Closed Fraint and the Koten Temple

[Fraint]

Fraint grinned sheepishly. “Sorry. I don’t know much about them. All I can tell you is that they were gargantuan in size, and they flew high enough for me to think I could touch the clouds,” he admitted, rubbing the back of his neck. Johanne’s enthusiasm embraced his countenance like a loving mother. He regretted not asking much of the Endal that had personally escorted him to the dream-like mountainous city of Lhavit. The red-headed fellow was gruff in personality, crusty in disposition, and completely stoical. Though kind, the Endal had a certain aura about him that intimidated Fraint, rendering easygoing conversation difficult. Despite himself, he awaited the moment of Johanne’s disappointment with dread. He took time in absorbing the view. The hazy, blue lights seemed to shiver under his careful scrutiny, a mother hen watching her children with both adoration and a strict, hawk-like gaze that failed to cease. Fraint’s fists clenched and unclenched, flexing as his head swiveled from side to side. He was afraid to move around, to look closer, lest he did something wrong and was kicked out for good. Still, he couldn’t ignore the constant, low thrumming that pounded inside his ribcage, his heart ready to break loose in a grandiose of lights and flames. His smile had disappeared, and was replaced with a philosophical, more concentrated expression, a tight line his lips. He regarded Johanne closely. She wasn’t well versed in Zintila’s lore, it seemed. Well, he shouldn’t have expected every single resident to know everything about the Star Goddess. Still, his expectations still opted for something more. He’d naturally assumed that everybody would know about the Koten Temple. It wasn’t so. But he laughed. “I guess neither of us knows much about what the other wants,” he laughed, the sound reverberating throughout the temple. Though his tone was carefully handled, a bitter note still wound its way into his words. “It’s a pity. But I think looking taking a look at this—” he gestured, arms splayed, “was quite enough. Can we go farther in?”

[Johanne]

Johanne looked down at the floor, the skyglass floor, disappointed. Shrugging her shoulders, she shook off the apology. He could not apologise for having experienced something in a certain way. To even be in the same room, to be talking to someone and know that they had ridden atop one of the great birds from Mt. Skyinarta, was amazing enough. Perhaps one day she would even see them for herself. "Don't apologise. I can hardly expect you to ask questions of a Wind Eagle merely so you can answer the incessant badgering of a girl you hadn't even met yet." Like Fraint, she smiled sheepishly. His own disappointment was sure to come.

Strange, though, that so soon after meeting him, she already regretted not having the answers he wanted.

There were so many things she wanted to ask him. Johanne never asked questions, never badgered someone for answers like this, but there was something about Fraint that thought perhaps here was a kindred spirit. Someone who understood stories and words and the importance of places and silences. That a story could hold power and change your life. That you could become the story. He had written his own, adventuring so far and coming just to stand in this spot. No, for all the questions she wanted to ask, she would not interrupt this moment for him: a moment he had probably dreamed up in a hundred different ways.

Oh, but she missed his smile, when Fraint regarded Johanne curiously. She had hated to tell him the truth, to burst his bubble like that, to let him down, to let him know that she was not what he had hoped for. It was like telling a pilgrim that their god was something made up for sport. Ready to turn and leave when he asked, Johanne was shocked by the laugh that burst from his lips, and again, her heart skipped.

"I'm very sorry, Fraint," she said, softly. "Truly. But if you would like, we could learn together." She took a step into the main hall. The ceiling was absolutely beautiful, rising high, stretching onwards. Two of the doors on either side were locked and guarded by the Shinya in their robes, but the biggest door in the center remained cracked open. She would begin walking to that and hope that Fraint followed.

"I'm from Denval, you see. I didn't grow up thinking Zintila was the lady of my city. I knew, of course, of the stars, but not in the way you had hoped. I don't know much of any god, really." Like Fraint, her tone was a little bitter. "Anyway. I moved here just under two years ago."

[Fraint]

“I don’t see why you’re apologizing,” he said, shaking his head as he shadowed Johanne’s footsteps. His eyes twinkled in amusement. “I was able to see the Koten Temple with wonderful company.” Fraint scrutinized Johanne’s figure with strange curiosity. She was unusually soft-spoken, especially for one so tall. She was prone to apologizing, and she didn’t know much about the Koten Temple, so she should’ve been useless to him. However, the girl seemed so frail and fragile that he couldn’t help but assume that the slightest gust of wind would knock her over. It made evoked a maternal instinct inside of him that he didn’t know he had—or at least, that was what he led himself to believe. When he had strut out on his own, he promised himself that he would not fall awry to the woes of women and their shallow dispositions, so it surprised him that the very first one he met outside of an official government facility would be so . . . pure. She exuded an aura of intelligence. Fraint sensed the curious spirit in him was also in her. “Oh, but there’s much to know about Zintila,” said Fraint, his eyes lightening with fervor. “She was once a truly powerful goddess, reigning over the stars in the sky. They say that nobody knows how great she once was.” He walked with a bounce to his step, his words becoming more and more animated as he continued to speak. “However, she took a great fall. She lost much of her power, and to this day, her rank equates to that of a demi-god. However, being a patient and humble goddess, she waits for her power to come back to her so that she may rise and become the ruler of the skies once more.” He stopped himself, taking a deep breath. “I could go on and on, but I still have much to learn. I hope to have that learning opportunity here.” He accelerated his pace so that he could walk alongside Johanne as they approached the center door. Fraint's heart beat against his ribcage. “How was Denval like?”

[Johanne]

Fraint would not see it, but beneath the woollen scarf that curved itself around her neck extended a pale pink blush, burning fervently on her skin. Wonderful company? She did not smile, she did not look anything other than bashful and slightly embarrassed, but inside her heart was smiling. Why did this always happen to her? An intelligent man, soft-spoken and kind, appeared and payed her the least of compliments, and she fell head over heels for them with no prompting. Joseph, Dariel, Fraint. There was not a future with any of them, and still she indulged herself in their flattery.

Taking a moment to look away from his handsome face, focusing on the fluttering candlelight that stained the room blue, she took a moment to breathe. Johanne plastered a neutral smile and her face and continued her slow steps forward into the Temple, determined to maintain some sort of composure, and not show herself to be anymore the fool.

As they walked through the Temple with its high, shining roof, Fraint's tone merged into one of complete and utter awe. He had clearly read so much about Zintila before leaving home, finding beauty where Johanne could see none. But you see, Johanne had lived through the Day of Discourse, had seen what the Anchorite, a servant of the Alvina, had let the city fall into. Did Fraint know about that, all the way in his homeland, with his books and his dreams?

"And that is why you find her interesting?" she asked quietly, musing, as if to herself. "Because she fell and still stayed beautiful?" Johanne hesitated, wondering if she should bring it up, and crush him a little, but she could not resist. "Did you hear of the Day of Discourse in your home, Fraint?" She did not want to crush his illusions: simply she wanted to know if he knew, and adored despite it.

"Denval..." Johanne stayed silent as they approached the central door, standing in front of the giant skyglass doors. Pausing for a moment to let Fraint take in the moment. To her, these doors meant nothing, but to Fraint, they were a symbol he had waited for. "Denval is very small. It's quiet, hemmed in, and the people can be a little narrowminded. We did not get many travellers there. Every child is raised to protect and defend, but I ... I am not like that." She shrugged. "I left looking for stories. I have not found any yet, but I am glad I left." As she spoke, her hands caressed the scars on her arms, though Fraint could not see them beneath her dress and cloak.

"Would you like to do the honours?" Johanne asked, gesturing to the doors. She stood back and waited.

[Fraint]

“Indeed,” he chuckled, scratching the back of his head. “I like to think of myself as an intelligent man, but I guess it’s naïve of me to assume that she’s perfect when she’s shrouded in a clandestine veil. I . . . do admit, I do not know much of her. Which is why I’d like to learn.” The twinkle in his eyes and the hop in his step said much; Fraint was happy. It was, after all, his second day in the land of his dreams. He dreaded the day where the wonder would disappear, and hoped that the day would never come, but for now, he was going to drown in his own pool of senseless happiness before he became that unassuming gentleman with a judgmental interior. “Day . . . of Discourse? No, I have not. What of it?” Fraint paused. “If I may?” It were as though he couldn’t feel his fingers anymore, standing in front of the doors that led to whatever it was Johanne wanted to show him. The Koten Temple housed many wonders, but Fraint felt like this was it—this was the moment he’d been waiting for. Rather rudely, all things about Denval had nearly flew over his head, and he only nodded as to show that he was paying attention, even though it was the doors under his ecstatic scrutiny. “Yes. Stories.” “Ah—well. I . . . I’ll accept your offer.” He cleared his throat, before raising his arms and giving the two doors a firm push. They were cold under his moist palms. As they opened up, Fraint didn’t know what to expect, other than being certain that his jaw would be hitting the floor unceremoniously. OOCGah, it's late, it's short, it's vague . . . 1000 apologies. Also, I, uh, didn't really know what to expect behind the doors, so I kind of just left it there . . . yeah, ha-ha. Sorry.

[Brandon Blackwing]

JOHANNE

XP Award:

• Socialization +4
• Observation +3
• Rhetoric +2
• Interrogation +3
• Teaching +1

Lore:

• Zintila: So close, but so far away
• Fraint: A story worth pursuing?
• Fraint: the man from Syliras
• Fraint: rode a Wind Eagle
• Zintila: Once powerful, now merely of the same rank of a demi-god

Notes:
Fraint: your grade has been withheld due to inactivity
Johanne: I must say I really like your style, especially so when reading your first few posts.
Nice work.

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credit goes to Adelaide Sitai