1st Day of Fall, 519 AV
The air was cooler that morning than she was used to. A shiver ran down her spine as she stood at one of the pews at the very front, facing the symbolic shard within the Temple of the Black Sun. Pious as ever, she prayed, palms pressed together, knowing that the chill she felt had nothing to do with the flurries pointed out to her during her ride.
There, look closely, before it melts—do you see the crystalline shape? Snowflakes, what a treasure. Such lightness and beauty in it. Gods, would you believe it? I haven’t seen that in ages. Is Morwen back? Or do you think the God of Chaos and Evil is in a mood?
Rhysol and his moods were still a mystery to the sybil. There were no answers she could give to the ravosalawoman who asked for her thoughts so early in Syna’s dawning light while floating down the wide and quiet canal. Roh’s own moods were enough of a problem on their own, let alone the inner feelings of a God. Rhysol wouldn’t have time to deal with the musings and worries of a woman who just wanted to do the right thing.
Outsiders saw him as the God of Evil, yes—but Rohka had grown up listening to the teachings of the One True force of the world… his ways were meant to be unconventional, to work around the tragedies that the other Gods were bound to make if he was absent. Rhysol and his ‘evil’, as they say, kept the city safe and protected. That’s what mattered, after all.
The protection of all Ravokian citizens and their properties.
So then why should she need to run away? Couldn’t she just confess, right here, right now? The thought made her feel cautious, yet another chill spreading through her arms, causing goosebumps, making her clasp her hands together instead, attempting to conceal the simple silver band on her finger.
Her confession was two-fold: the first involved her wish to rid herself of the responsibility of having the ring. The second involved her knowledge of her family. The second was harder to do anything about. What could Rhysol do if she confessed her family’s treasons? Why would Rhysol care to change any of it? She managed to catch herself thinking that the God had to be the one to change things, when she knew she couldn’t hope for such things. She knew she would need to do things on her own. Avenge things on her own. Leave here, and work for something she believed in. Something that not only created change, but sustained it. Something she could trust in, once more. Did something like that even exist? Did it exist within her?
Rohka took another deep breath and prayed, standing still.
“Um, excuse me? You’re the apprentice from the Mystic Eye, are you not?”
WC = 477
The air was cooler that morning than she was used to. A shiver ran down her spine as she stood at one of the pews at the very front, facing the symbolic shard within the Temple of the Black Sun. Pious as ever, she prayed, palms pressed together, knowing that the chill she felt had nothing to do with the flurries pointed out to her during her ride.
There, look closely, before it melts—do you see the crystalline shape? Snowflakes, what a treasure. Such lightness and beauty in it. Gods, would you believe it? I haven’t seen that in ages. Is Morwen back? Or do you think the God of Chaos and Evil is in a mood?
Rhysol and his moods were still a mystery to the sybil. There were no answers she could give to the ravosalawoman who asked for her thoughts so early in Syna’s dawning light while floating down the wide and quiet canal. Roh’s own moods were enough of a problem on their own, let alone the inner feelings of a God. Rhysol wouldn’t have time to deal with the musings and worries of a woman who just wanted to do the right thing.
Outsiders saw him as the God of Evil, yes—but Rohka had grown up listening to the teachings of the One True force of the world… his ways were meant to be unconventional, to work around the tragedies that the other Gods were bound to make if he was absent. Rhysol and his ‘evil’, as they say, kept the city safe and protected. That’s what mattered, after all.
The protection of all Ravokian citizens and their properties.
So then why should she need to run away? Couldn’t she just confess, right here, right now? The thought made her feel cautious, yet another chill spreading through her arms, causing goosebumps, making her clasp her hands together instead, attempting to conceal the simple silver band on her finger.
Her confession was two-fold: the first involved her wish to rid herself of the responsibility of having the ring. The second involved her knowledge of her family. The second was harder to do anything about. What could Rhysol do if she confessed her family’s treasons? Why would Rhysol care to change any of it? She managed to catch herself thinking that the God had to be the one to change things, when she knew she couldn’t hope for such things. She knew she would need to do things on her own. Avenge things on her own. Leave here, and work for something she believed in. Something that not only created change, but sustained it. Something she could trust in, once more. Did something like that even exist? Did it exist within her?
Rohka took another deep breath and prayed, standing still.
“Um, excuse me? You’re the apprentice from the Mystic Eye, are you not?”
WC = 477