[Temple of The Moon] Faithless

by **Haneht** on August 31st, 2018, 11:03 am

91st, Summer 518AV

Never had Haneht been so desperate as to turn to the gods for help. The only gods he prayed to were the ones the rest of his family did, and even then it was only to honour and seek their blessing. Even then, he was the least religious in his household.

It was not that he didn’t believe in them. The Eypharian was well aware they existed, watching mortals like himself to quell their boredom as they attended to the various aspects their lonely, immortal existences catered to. He had nothing against the gods. Rather, from an early age he’d known that none of the deities would ever explicitly help them, unless it benefitted them somehow. It wasn’t that he blamed them either; the gods had the world to tend to, and the troubles of a few were woefully insignificant in the larger scheme of things. Imagine having to listen to people lament and complain while one tried to work—surely a distracting and unpleasant experience.

Not to mention, he wanted to owe nothing, didn’t want to be obligated like he had been to his family. He’s had enough of unquestioning submissiveness and blind obedience, and he doubted they want half-hearted loyalty. If he was to truly pray to a god, Haneht wanted to be convinced. Wanted to be able to believe, and not be disappointed. Syna, was a goddess whose influence he’d grown up surrounded in. Dira, for death deserved to be respected and understood, for it existed to balance out life; Makutsi, for the water and rains that sustained life in the Eyktol desert; Sivah, for reasons that were self-explanatory. The God of the Moon, however...

Outside the entrance of the Temple of the Moon, Haneht’s footsteps faltered and ceased completely. What was he hoping to accomplish by seeking Leth? What good would it do?

You seem lost.

Glazed pools of amber stared blankly into the silver-glowing dome, seemingly absorbing of any and all light that entered their gaze. Seeing, unseeing, a boy lost in the very depths of his turbulent ocean soul. Lost? Haneht was always lost. He could never seem to be in the right place at the right time. Where was the fun in staying on a designated path, though, the thrill of adventure?

Can you find your way back, then? Haneht huffed, a puff of air escaping rose petal lips to tease at a wisp of chocolate brown locks. Of course he could—what sort of silly question was that? No matter where he went, he was always aware of his drifting, always knew the direction he’d come from and his original, intended destination. As long as he knew where he was, he was confident he could renavigate if he truly wanted to. So where are you, Haneht?

An easy enough question. The Kalea Region, Lhavit, Shinyama Peak. A year ago, the dancer had left his home in search of freedom, independence, an adventure. No, two. It’s been two years. No, that was not right. He arrived in Winter, or wasn’t it Spring? He first set foot past the Amaranthine Gates in the year of 516AV, but before that... Hadn’t he travelled a great way as well?

How long had it been? Time had flown by so fast. He barely remembered anyone from before Lhavit, the friendly desert nomads who had kindly hosted him on his travels, the hands that gifted him cheap but well-meaning trinkets. The people he’d met and travelled, sat round campfires and shared meals with.

It’s so easy to lose yourself, isn’t it?

“Stop eavesdropping on my thoughts!” He snapped.

A figure emerged from the shadows, pale as a corpse, ebony-haired and deep indigo eyes almost clairvoyant in nature, searching the depths of his soul. At her piercing stare, the brunet felt the urge to cover himself up.

“I'm not,” the priestess’ face was impassive as she spoke, solemn and exuding every bit of propriety one would expect, but her eyes shone with amusement, almost teasing. “They’re simply that loud.”

by **Haneht** on September 6th, 2018, 10:51 am

91st, Summer 518AV

Selane Nymphea had come across many a lost soul in her time serving as Leth's Priestess, had seen her fair share of troubled minds and hearts seeking solace and comfort in the Moon God's embrace. The mind was a complex machine, easy to take apart but tedious to put back together once dismantled. Facing a bit of resistance was a very human reaction, an expected response in the face of change. Change brought about discomfort and unease. Self-reflection did not come easily to everyone, and thus it was partly her duty as priestess to guide them, enable them like a mother supporting her child's endeavours. Such was her calling.

“Loud?” Haneht repeated, incredulous. The priestess was poking around in his head, without an invitation no less! It’s a two way street, Haneht.

“And you know my name!” Selane let out a heavy sigh, striding forward to the Eypharian lingering at the entrance, who took a step back in response. This was going to be a long night for them both. “Very loud,” she added, striding into his full view. Leth’s moonbeams bathed her frame in a silver glow, reminding the boy of the temple’s sacredness. Best behave, he told himself. “Have you come to pray?” Had he now? Haneht was looking for an answer to that question himself. He was not religious. He didn’t believe in the gods so much, couldn’t believe. Couldn’t trust, couldn’t let go of his insecurities and bare himself, open his mind and heart, body and soul. To Leth, of all gods, who greatly emphasised on self-reflection and betterment, changed and motivated by his lover Syna.

Love. It had changed Dira’s brother into the more or less benevolent god he was today. Haneht wasn’t quite sure if he was ready to love. If he was ready to change. If he even needed to. He’d never had to so far, never felt so giddy and confused until a certain Inarta stumbled across his path and ensnared him with his ocean-deep eyes and deceivingly radiant smile, the way he would flush at the slightest compliment, or how his hair would fall into place, red locks tumbling past shoulders. Never felt so awful and inhuman until this particular Summer.

Leth will help you.

Haneht had come to the temple looking for peace. Solace. Comfort in the silence, to quiet his thoughts and not think or feel at all. If he wanted hope and joy and radiance, he’d have gone to Syna’s temple. Yet, would it really hurt to try for once? To have something to believe in, pray to, give himself some peace of mind and hope at the same time? “I’m not a very good person,” Haneht revealed quietly. At this point, he didn’t quite know what he wanted anymore, what he’d come for in the first place. Repentance. Silence. The brunet wanted many, many things, was always very greedy and self-indulgent. Would Leth mind, having him sullying his sacred temple with his tainted golden touch?

“Neither was he,” Selane offered gently, scintillating indigo eyes kind and patient. “Do you want to change?” Haneht shrugged. Tigers never changed their stripes. This was all Haneht knew, the selfishness and spite, arrogance and hedonism. Self-indulgence, pleasure, incompassion. Yet, vaguely, he remembered being a much kinder boy as a child, remembered how he’d started off so pure and clean and wore his heart on his sleeve, only to have to adapt and change to survive, bury away his heart alongside his sister.

Before expectation. Hate. Trauma. Lust. Before he began hurting others; never set yourself on fire to warm others. Rather, do it to chase them away. Burn hot and wild enough, and he’d be safe.

Did he want to change? He couldn’t answer. Yes. No. He needed help, clearly, but he didn’t want any.

He figured, if Leth didn’t help him, he’d at least listen, keep all his shameful weaknessesses and secrets safe. He highly doubted a god would care for gossip, or care at all, frankly. Haneht would likely be one of thousands he had to listen to.

“I want to pray.” Selane nodded, content and unopposing of his decision.

And at least, he thought dryly, smiling to himself wistfully, my thoughts are loud.

by **Haneht** on September 8th, 2018, 9:25 am

91st, Summer 518AV

Bold proclamation aside, Haneht actually had no idea how to pray. Back home, he merely followed in his sisters’ examples, said a few lines that grew repetitive over the years, asked for blessings. The usual. He moved closer to the pool, to the moon’s reflection lurking in the center of it, and knelt down to meet his reflection staring back up at him. “Don’t touch it,” Selane warned firmly, as if reading his mind. She was.

“It’s Leth’s gift of Telepathy, not mind-reading. Communication. And you’re louder in thoughts than in person,” she explained, adding, “If it makes you so uncomfortable, I will stop,” and true to her words, she did just that. Just like that, they both fell into comfortable silence, joined by nature’s nightly choir outside and the occasional gust of wind. Haneht knelt by the pool wordlessly, dazed, more phantom than man. As he peered into it, Selane watched respectfully from behind, retreating towards the walls to allow him a modicum of privacy. She lied—somewhat—she wouldn’t stop listening. She had to know his plight, the extent of trauma that seemed deeply enrooted in an unspoken past that the boy had convinced himself into believing he was over. No one really got over trauma. They merely learnt how to handle it better, but this Eypharian was handling it as well as a child did. And in some ways, he still was one. A boy. Mature, with innocence still hidden away somewhere, fragmented. Fallen to depravity, but there was still hope. Selane had glimpsed something in the blaringly loud thoughts he was unwittingly broadcasting, a lantern in the oppressive darkness of his mind.

Love. In its purest form. The seed of it, slowly budding and waiting to bloom beautifully, biding it’s time as its roots took hold in his heart and strengthened the foundation of it. This was a man who, deep in his heart, sought to change. He just needed time, refuge, and Leth would be the one to provide that, with his invisible, soothing presence, subtly accompanying this lost soul throughout his journey without frightening him off. Patience that only Leth could afford this difficult, complex man.

“No touching!” Haneht’s fingers jerked backwards from the surface of the pool they’d been hovering over, six arms folding behind his back like a mischievous toddler caught red-handed.

“I was praying,” he said, poker-faced and pensively staring into his reflection in the pool. Selane snorted. She was rolling her eyes too, behind him. He could feel it. “Do you know how to pray, Haneht?” And there she went, exposing him again. He could! He just needed to figure it out. He was not helpless. Selane approached him slowly, soft footfalls that matched the pacing of his breath, like she was approaching a timid creature with the utmost care. Like he startled that easily. What was he, deer?

“Leth is the God of change, thoughts, reflection. He will hear you, if you let Him,” Selane began, guiding a hand onto his back. Just like that, the fight in him died down again, tension melting away under her touch. He had not felt the warmth of another’s touch, another’s skin, in days. Not since he last wrapped his hands around someone’s throat. He hadn’t wanted to touch anyone after, hadn’t wanted to even go near people. How he’d missed it, this physical contact and comfort only gestures of affection could give. The brunet made no form of protest as she joined him by the pool on her knees as well, watching in quiet fascination as her image appeared in the waters along with his and Leth’s. “Close your eyes. Think of what you seek.” The world around him darkened on command, heavy eyelids sweeping over misty ambers. Exhaustion sank itself deeply into his bones; he hadn’t realised, just how many restless nights he’s had in the past weeks, how tired he’s been. Since attempting to strangle the life out of Mauriel, he had barely allowed himself a moment’s rest.

What do you seek, O’ wanderer?

This. All this that he was feeling right now, this silence in his mind and thoughts. He’s never been so still by his own volition before, could never seem to settle down for too long. Peace, he thought. I pray for silence. Peace. Everything is so loud. So terrifying. I can’t hear myself, I can’t see anything.

A feeling of calm that Leth’s gentle light seemed to bask him in, a new comfort he hadn’t realised he’d needed until now. He was always so, so noisy, always had to distract himself from, well, himself, because his thoughts and inner screaming would catch up with him otherwise. But here, they all seemed to dissolve in Leth’s presence. Everything was much quieter, his thoughts were much more fluid. Coherent, even. He could lose himself, and still come back, open his eyes and know exactly where he is and what he’s done.

For now, though, he just wants to rest.

by **Haneht** on September 22nd, 2018, 10:15 am

91st, Summer 518AV

Leth heard him just fine, it seemed. Everything was quiet. His thoughts, heart, mind. No warring thoughts, no noise, nothing. Was this all it had needed? Just a bit of kneeling and talking to a God, and everything went away?

"Wake up, Haneht. You've slept long enough. Go home." No thank you. Eyktol was so far away, and he had yet to have his fill of fun and adventures around the world. Besides, there was no place for him there, not anymore. Lhavit was his home now.

He hadn't felt such peace in a long while. Was this what death felt like, what Dira's embrace felt like? It was warm and pleasant and... soft. Like a pillow.

"Haneht." Something tapped lightly on his cheek. Lashes fluttered against his cheeks gently as he slowly cracked open his eyes, coming to only to find himself on his back, gazing upwards at a face that took him a fair bit of time to recognise as the priestess. Leth's light seemed a little dimmer now, the pale of the moon overshadowed by thick clouds. "I think He heard me." His voice was thick and heavy with sleep, words tumbling out with a bit of a mumble. The priestess smiled, slight laugh escaping her in a breath, striking eyes kind and almost motherly even. She ran a hand over his forehead, drawing a low, content hum from the boy as she brushed his chocolate hair from forehead. Only then did he realise that the soft embrace of death had, in fact, been himself comfortably and soundly asleep with his head cradled in her lap.

"What's your name?" Amber eyes began to clear, but they were still glazed enough to show how deeply asleep the brunet had been.
Her skin seemed so soft and supple, lashes long like his, and now that he was much closer, she was almost doll-like in appearance. Fascinating. The pale of her skin betrayed purplish-blue veins beneath, lines clear as day against a paper-thin layer. "Selane Nymphea." He reached out a hand, meaning to touch her face and verify that she wasn't some sort of phantom his sleep-deprived mind had concocted. Her own interceded his, nudging it away. "You have pretty eyes." Haneht smiled up to her in wonder, before finally deciding to sit up. Where was he again? The temple. Whose temple? What had he been doing here, him of all people? Haneht had never been one to look towards the gods.

Everything came back to him slowly. The path he had taken, stumbling into the temple like a mindless corpse (sorry, Savis), having his thoughts invaded and being told he was loud. He most certainly wasn't.

I would beg to differ.

He shot her a displeased look. Selane had said she would stop! What a fat liar this priestess was. The noirette sighed. "What happened?" He knew he had been on his knees just seconds ago, head bowed in submission as he prayed, genuinely, to the God of the Moon. "You fell asleep," came her calm reply, "You seemed very tired. You remained so still, I was momentarily impressed. Then you keeled over and I thought you'd died. Nearly hit your head, too. It's been a bell since." That much time had passed? "You should go home." Selane made a move to stand up, only to stagger forward when her legs seemed unable to hold her petite frame up. The Eypharian got up in time to catch and steady her balance with a firm, but gentle hold.

Leth's priestess waved him off, wincing ever so slightly. "I'm alright. Seems like my legs fell asleep too," she teased, and it was now his turn to roll his eyes at her. Gratefully, however, he whispered a quiet thank you that the tinier woman heard just fine, and she flashed him a demure smile in response.

"You're most welcome, child." She was making herself sound ancient, addressing hin so. He was a man, just a little younger than herself, but here she was calling him a child and looking at him like she was fifty hundred or so years older? Speaking of... Haneht had thought the priestess of the Temple of the Moon would be a little older. More wrinkly and grey. Not this young woman who seemed to be at most a decade older than he was.

Experience, dear. I might be young, but the role of priestess is a very serious responsibility that isn't given lightly.

The Eypharian dancer sighed. So much for keeping out of his head.

"Come. I'll walk you out." The woman motioned for him to follow after her, and he did, stopping by the entrance briefly yo cast one last longing look at the pool centred in the chamber. At Leth's silver reflection in it, and for a moment, he could almost swear that there really was a face. That he had gazed upon a God in this sacred sanctum for wandering souls, of which the boy was now a part of.

"Come."

Haneht turned, and glided out after the Symenestra, trailing after the priestess like a child toddling after their parent.

by **Haneht** on September 23rd, 2018, 1:17 am

91st, Summer 518AV

The walk through the hall of the Temple was slow, as both of them strolled at a rather leisurely pace. Haneht trailed behind with smaller steps to match the shorter strides Selane took in comparison to his, feeling strangely lighter than he had been before. Safe. But with that sense of comfort and security, there was now fear and freed accompanying it at he neared the end of the corridor, leading to a doorway where the entrance o the Temple was, leading to a large flight of stairs down and out into the world. Into the night, away from this newfound source of comfort.

The young man wasn't ready to leave. He had to stall.

"Do you worship only Leth?" The petite noirette paused in her steps, to his relief, and he immediately followed suit. "No. Viratas was my primary deity of worship. He still is, of course." Haneht knew that much. Most, if not all of her face worshipped Viratas, as he's heard. The God of Blood and Heitage. What he didn't know, was much about Viratas and his ways. Just that He was often misunderstood.

"Viratas presides over blood, and life, though on a more specific and smaller scale. He guards the sanctity of heritage and bonds." Now he regretted ever asking. What would this God think, if they learned of his lack of filial piety and complete disregard towards family, the betrayal they suffered. None of them knew the betrayal of Blood he had committed years ago, when he ended his own parent's life in a spiteful act of vengeance. To this day, even, he felt no remorse over it. Just relief, and discomfort, but never regret, for his father had deserved none of that. The strength of their familial bond had been no stronger than that of thin thread. Flimsy, pathetic, binding by obligation rather than loyalty.

Breath hitching, Haneht looked to Selane inquisitively, wondering if she had heard. In return, she gave him an inquisitive look, indicating that his secret was safely undisclosed for now.

"Why do you worship him?" They were moving again. Gods, no. Haneht did not want to leave at all. Leth was here, in this Temple. The gangly youth had felt his presence in the chamber, felt that gentle invisible caress that soothed his nerves so well. In the short time he had spent in Leth's temple, already he had established the location as a sanctum of his, something that could ground him and keep his worries and demons at bay. Couldn't he stay just a little more?

"You can return, you know. And... You don't really need to be in the Temple to pray to him, or feel his presence. His light reaches just as far as his lover's." Selane assured him. This time, she had not needed to listen to his thoughts. The boy's reluctance was clear as day, and perhaps if he had been a little more in control of himself Selane might not have such an easy time reading him. Yet, the more she knew him, the more she found that Haneht was very much not in control. Not disciplined, or composed like she portrayed himself to be. Sure, he moved with the grace of a swan, had a rather charming smile and an endearingly childish personality, but the mirage he had conjured up had been partly dissolved to reveal one who just didn't seem to know what he was doing anymore. Lost and fallen from grace, or falling from grace.

If he was not saved, she shuddered to think the man he would turn out to be.

Haneht contemplated her words in silence. The tap of their feet against the stone floors was almost foreboding as they drew nearer towards the entrance. "Must I really go?" He looked to the young priestess of Leth pleadingly. Wordlessly, she gently pushed at his back with a hand, encouraging him into the open air. How exposed he felt. The cloak of his did nothing for him, and with every passing tick he found himself unable to take another step out.

Leth is with you, Haneht. Just look for His light.

He inhaled deeply, placing one foot forward, then another, and the motion continued from an agonizingly slow pace to a shambles of sorts, until he was finally descending the stairs.

The Priestess of the Temple of the Moon watched his retreating figure solemnly. Eyes turning skyward, she closed her eyes, and made a small prayer for the misguided, poor boy with the sweetest eyes and silly smile.

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