Each word that came out of the priestess's mouth made the grin on Faelith's face grow wider and wider. So she might be able to help around the graveyard, after all! Now that she thought about it (and in fact, now that her spirits were lifted), cleaning and meditating didn't sound nearly so boring after all.
And the priestess is so lovely! She thought. And she's kind and generous, too. And beautiful.
Her smile didn't dim as the priestess gently informed her of ways to better clean the temple the next time. She was practically bouncing on the balls of her feet by the time the older Vantha finished speaking.
"Oh, thank you, Priestess! I've got it-- make candles, pick up incense, and come back for meditation." She found herself suddenly filled with energy, and an intense desire to prove herself worthy to the priestess. It wouldn't do to do a lackluster job so soon after the woman had so graciously offered her this position. She practically bolted out of the temple as soon as she thought she would be allowed, barreling into the snow with glee. She began walking back towards the Skyglow hold, plotting all the while the most efficient way to go about her tasks.
After a chime's contemplation as she trekked through the graveyard, slush shifting under her feet as she went, she decided: she'd seen her father sometimes make candles, so home would be first, since she'd need to ask her parents for some coin to buy incense with anyways.
Flushed with her new-found determination, the journey to her hold seemed half as long as the one going to the cemetery. She stumbled excitedly through the Arvinta, her feet clumsier than usual in her haste and excitement, before eventually finding her father.
"Papa!" She shouted, and he looked up, brow furrowed with confusion before it cleared with his smile as he realized who was addressing him.
"Fae--" he started to speak, but she'd already begun chattering excitedly, relaying all of her adventures so far.
"--and then the priestess told me that I did really well, except I sort of cleaned the frames instead of the actual altar, but I think next time I'll pay attention to that, and she's so pretty--"
"Faelith," her father interrupted, not unkindly. "Try breathing while you talk."
I have been breathing, she thought, but when she took a few great, gulping breaths as he instructed she realized that she actually had been holding her breath while she talked. She blushed sheepishly and frowned while her father laughed.
"Now, why don't you tell me what you need, hmm?"
She nodded and made sure to speak extra slowly, so that she wouldn't forget to breathe this time. "The priestess wants me to make candles for the altar. Would you help me?"
He'd barely gotten his Of course, dear. out of his mouth before she tackled him with a fierce hug 'round his middle. He laughed and patted her hair for a moment before pulling her off of him and going to fetch his materials.
Candle-making, as it turned out, was incredibly tedious. Faelith could appreciate art, of course, and even though usually her patience was thin at best she could hold herself still for chimes and bells on end if she was actively engaged in a painting or carving. Sitting on the floor and watching as the paraffin wax melted oh so slowly in the double boiler that her father had set up-- that was another story entirely. Luckily, her energy carried her over, and her Father, whose intuition she was eternally grateful for, engaged her in conversation all the while, allowing her to finish her story while the wax shavings melted into a clear, thick liquid.
Once the wax was fully melted, her father secured wicks within his candle molds, tying the waxed cotton to a small stick that was laid across the top of the molds, to ensure that the wick wouldn't fall in the cooling wax. After multiple reassurances that she wouldn't horribly scald herself, he allowed Faelith to pour the melted wax into the first mold. Her hand shook at first, but before any accidents could occur, he placed his hands over hers to steady her grip. After nearly spilling wax once more in creating a second candle, Faelith finally relinquished the melting pot to her father, who filled the remaining four molds with relative ease.
Faelith was looking out the window into the sun, trying her best to determine how much time she had left before she had to return to the temple, when her father handed her a single gold-rimmed miza. Before she could question him, he cut her off. "Go ahead and buy some incense from the Winterflames. I'll get these candles finished, and then you can be on your way in time for the meditation classes."
Faelith nodded vigorously and leaned forward to kiss her father on the cheek before she hustled out of the Skyglow hold.
By the time that she returned, incense and leftover coin in hand, her father had bundled up the six candles in some simple cloth and put them in a small woven basket. As she feared that her time was running short, Faelith didn't do more than retrieve the basket, kiss her father on the cheek once more in gratitude, and say hello to her mother (who was now seated with her husband), before she was once more rushing out of her hold.
As she had grown up in Avanthal and known nothing else, most of the time the beauty of the city was lost on Faelith. As she was caught between the Holds and the center of the city, the Ice Palace looming in the near distance, she was struck by the beauty of it. The sun had not yet sunk below the horizon, but it was nearing it, and the sky burned gold, and the city looked to be on fire. She slowed her steps, coming to a complete halt, staring at her city in rare wonder. After a tick, she came back to herself, and hurried on her way.
"Priestess!" She called, and then was reminded of how quiet the temple had been, how gentle the priestess's voice was. "Priestess," she repeated, much quieter. "I'm back."
And the priestess is so lovely! She thought. And she's kind and generous, too. And beautiful.
Her smile didn't dim as the priestess gently informed her of ways to better clean the temple the next time. She was practically bouncing on the balls of her feet by the time the older Vantha finished speaking.
"Oh, thank you, Priestess! I've got it-- make candles, pick up incense, and come back for meditation." She found herself suddenly filled with energy, and an intense desire to prove herself worthy to the priestess. It wouldn't do to do a lackluster job so soon after the woman had so graciously offered her this position. She practically bolted out of the temple as soon as she thought she would be allowed, barreling into the snow with glee. She began walking back towards the Skyglow hold, plotting all the while the most efficient way to go about her tasks.
After a chime's contemplation as she trekked through the graveyard, slush shifting under her feet as she went, she decided: she'd seen her father sometimes make candles, so home would be first, since she'd need to ask her parents for some coin to buy incense with anyways.
Flushed with her new-found determination, the journey to her hold seemed half as long as the one going to the cemetery. She stumbled excitedly through the Arvinta, her feet clumsier than usual in her haste and excitement, before eventually finding her father.
"Papa!" She shouted, and he looked up, brow furrowed with confusion before it cleared with his smile as he realized who was addressing him.
"Fae--" he started to speak, but she'd already begun chattering excitedly, relaying all of her adventures so far.
"--and then the priestess told me that I did really well, except I sort of cleaned the frames instead of the actual altar, but I think next time I'll pay attention to that, and she's so pretty--"
"Faelith," her father interrupted, not unkindly. "Try breathing while you talk."
I have been breathing, she thought, but when she took a few great, gulping breaths as he instructed she realized that she actually had been holding her breath while she talked. She blushed sheepishly and frowned while her father laughed.
"Now, why don't you tell me what you need, hmm?"
She nodded and made sure to speak extra slowly, so that she wouldn't forget to breathe this time. "The priestess wants me to make candles for the altar. Would you help me?"
He'd barely gotten his Of course, dear. out of his mouth before she tackled him with a fierce hug 'round his middle. He laughed and patted her hair for a moment before pulling her off of him and going to fetch his materials.
Candle-making, as it turned out, was incredibly tedious. Faelith could appreciate art, of course, and even though usually her patience was thin at best she could hold herself still for chimes and bells on end if she was actively engaged in a painting or carving. Sitting on the floor and watching as the paraffin wax melted oh so slowly in the double boiler that her father had set up-- that was another story entirely. Luckily, her energy carried her over, and her Father, whose intuition she was eternally grateful for, engaged her in conversation all the while, allowing her to finish her story while the wax shavings melted into a clear, thick liquid.
Once the wax was fully melted, her father secured wicks within his candle molds, tying the waxed cotton to a small stick that was laid across the top of the molds, to ensure that the wick wouldn't fall in the cooling wax. After multiple reassurances that she wouldn't horribly scald herself, he allowed Faelith to pour the melted wax into the first mold. Her hand shook at first, but before any accidents could occur, he placed his hands over hers to steady her grip. After nearly spilling wax once more in creating a second candle, Faelith finally relinquished the melting pot to her father, who filled the remaining four molds with relative ease.
Faelith was looking out the window into the sun, trying her best to determine how much time she had left before she had to return to the temple, when her father handed her a single gold-rimmed miza. Before she could question him, he cut her off. "Go ahead and buy some incense from the Winterflames. I'll get these candles finished, and then you can be on your way in time for the meditation classes."
Faelith nodded vigorously and leaned forward to kiss her father on the cheek before she hustled out of the Skyglow hold.
By the time that she returned, incense and leftover coin in hand, her father had bundled up the six candles in some simple cloth and put them in a small woven basket. As she feared that her time was running short, Faelith didn't do more than retrieve the basket, kiss her father on the cheek once more in gratitude, and say hello to her mother (who was now seated with her husband), before she was once more rushing out of her hold.
As she had grown up in Avanthal and known nothing else, most of the time the beauty of the city was lost on Faelith. As she was caught between the Holds and the center of the city, the Ice Palace looming in the near distance, she was struck by the beauty of it. The sun had not yet sunk below the horizon, but it was nearing it, and the sky burned gold, and the city looked to be on fire. She slowed her steps, coming to a complete halt, staring at her city in rare wonder. After a tick, she came back to herself, and hurried on her way.
"Priestess!" She called, and then was reminded of how quiet the temple had been, how gentle the priestess's voice was. "Priestess," she repeated, much quieter. "I'm back."
oocI couldn't find Incense on the price list, so I'm sort of guessing here. I'll go ahead and subtract 10 SM from Faelith's ledger, but of course if you think this is too high or too low I'll revise it.
