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Post by Léandre de Guivre on Jan 24, 2010 18:15:10 GMT -5
It was not usually my custom to stroll in the same area of the City until a week had passed, but I felt strangely compelled to do so again. Simpletons would have said that the gods were influencing my actions, but I preferred to think of it as my body signaling that the route I took through the district provided just the right amount of exercise. The simplest explanation was often the right one, in my experience.
I stood closest to Kushiel's temple, a somber figure clad all in black, head bowed, eyes closed. At this distance, I could hear many things--idle chatter, the laughter of children, the sound of boots against cobblestones, but I was struck by the silence that seemed to surround this place. It was appropriate for such a building, I supposed, but also a little unnerving.
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Post by Asfandiyar Azarkevanejad on Jan 24, 2010 20:45:35 GMT -5
I had awoken from unpleasant dreams, rife with a jumble of swift-passing images that confused me. I had been assailed throughout a restless night by images of looming figures that seemed to have oppressive, omniscient personality, yet no faces. Their edges were blurry. As though sentient, they refused to coalesce, but they seemed to whisper my name in silent voices. All but one. That one purred it, and in so doing lit my innards not unlike I were a brazen singing bowl being expertly tolled. The sensation shook me awake with a start. I was for a moment lost in the unfamiliar bed, in the unfamiliar room at the inn, panting and full of an odd ache I couldn't define.
I slid out from between the bedclothes, disconcerted, and combed out my hair agitatedly with my fingers. It had felted it's way into snarls as I'd tossed in the night. I felt crisp air through my gauzy sudrah and it brought me back to myself, reminded me to turn toward the golden light of the D'Angeline day streaming in through the little window. It took a force of will to concentrate upon my manthra ]as I retied the kusti about my slim waist, but I felt cleaner after the familiar ritual. I slid into shalvar leggings and a fresh jameh robe with its wide sash - indigo to match my eyes - and stepped into my dark boots; I then lifted my puppy. He had slept like the dead through all my discomfort, typical of a sighthound. But his warmth was a comfort against my chest as I left the little room and ventured out into the day.
It was warm and the air smelt of blossoms, which soothed my heart deeply. I strolled slowly, taking in the sights - here a boisterous merchant calling out across the square, there a clutch of well-dressed women gossiping, much like home. I exchanged a small coin for some breakfast and shared it with my puppy as I walked. Again, the people bustled about me, aflame with their own concerns, as they had done yesterday. I petted my dog's head and wandered for a long while.
Eventually I emerged into a wide road, banded by magnificent buildings -clearly temples - and finely-attired gentlepeople. The air was thick with mingled incenses, and doves fluttered back and forth across the visible skies with a racket from the unique squeaking scrabble of their short wings. There was little idle chatter about me, and a sincerity radiated off those who I watched disappearing into the tall temple doors. This atmosphere set me much at ease. I had grown up amongst the aromatic stones of temples.
I was intrigued to compare my lifetime of reverent scholarship with the ways of the people of Terre D'Ange, and wondered if I might be welcome in their temples. Foreigners were not allowed past the doors of the Fire-temples. Only the initiated, born in the land of Drujan and raised amongst its customs were permitted, and then only if one dedicated oneself forthrightly to Ahura Mazda. Drujanis had to protect their precarious peace from further disruption by invading dogmas; as a people we had become keenly protective of our fragile restoration, after the atrocities of the Evil Apostate whose name was now bane in my land.
My curiosity was insatiable, however. I had to know if I could gain entry, to be allowed at least one local experience from which I could learn. One temple in particular seemed to tug at my breast mysteriously, but I would be content with any. I began casting about for an open countenance from which I might gather information.
The only man standing still in the bustle of the temple square was tall, nearly as tall as I, and dressed in black. He looked grave, but also a little aimless. I approached him humbly, my stature respectfully low but eyes focused upon his. My dog blinked his shining little copper eyes toward the man as well.
"Ushta, my lord," I began, my strange voice sure but gentle, a tone I had learned to set men at ease with me. I measured out my meager D'Angeline carefully, pronouncing the words as best I could, but was yet hampered by my accent. "Please excuse. I visit in your fine city and wish to question about your temples. Are those such as I allowed to enter?"
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Post by Léandre de Guivre on Jan 24, 2010 21:05:52 GMT -5
I was startled out of my reverie by the sound of a stranger's voice addressing me in a strange tongue. I could not place his accent, but his words seemed familiar to me, as if I had read about them myself. My gaze took in his manner of dress and the dog which trotted along beside him. It was quite obvious that he was a foreigner. Fortunately, I rather liked foreigners.
Well met, my lord," I said, by way of greeting, making sure that I spoke slowly enough so that he could understand without giving the impression that I thought he was dense. "The temples are open to all. The gods make no distinctions between D'Angeline and foreigner." I was a fine one to be speaking of gods, but the life of a foreigner could be hard in the City of Elua.
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Post by Asfandiyar Azarkevanejad on Jan 25, 2010 2:23:47 GMT -5
The gentleman, though pensive, spoke in a genial tone. I was glad of the relatively competent D'Angeline accent my Umaiyyati teacher had cultivated and accustomed me to, for the softly sibilant language was at times too sleek to grasp. "I am glad to hear this," I replied, my shoulders relaxing. I nodded slowly, a bow in miniature, and smiled with a respectful, closed-lipped gratitude. "For I am very curious to understand the ways of your people. Terre D'Ange's…. Charms... are not well known in my country." My puppy leaned up against my leg, encouraging me through the little stumble in my speech.
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Post by Léandre de Guivre on Jan 25, 2010 10:14:20 GMT -5
"Ah, well, you are in luck," I replied. "I am quite knowledgeable in the ways of my people, and if I do not know it, I likely know someone who does." I gave him a formal bow. "My name is Léandre de Guivre, at your service."
I still could not place his manner of dress nor his accent. "If you will pardon my being so forward, might I ask where you hail from? I would hazard a guess and say Khebbel-im-Akkad, but I would not wish to offend were that not the case."
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Post by Asfandiyar Azarkevanejad on Jan 25, 2010 13:54:36 GMT -5
I did not expect such a gallant bow and it made my meek smile widen reflexively. If such refined acts were commonplace in this land, I would have to accustom myself to returning them gracefully. I laid my spidery hand over my heart - over the pocket of my sudrah - and hinged at the hip ever so slightly. My eyes fluttered closed for a moment and a lock of my long hair came darkly over my shoulder.
"The honor is mine, Aghaye Leandre. It pleases me and bodes well that the first D'Angeline whose acquaintance I have made is so very amicable." I straightened. "My name is Asfandiyar Azarkevanejad, and I hail from great Ahura Mazda's chosen country, Drujan." My homeland's name fell off my tongue like the bass roll of a skin drum, and it warmed me to be so proud. I knew that the D'Angelines would likely be somewhat cognizent of the recent history of my homeland. But I resolved to ensure that I would present my people in our best possible light, to show the strength of character that overcame the druj. "There is no offense taken… Khebbel-im-Akkad was helpful to my people in the early days of the restoration. They are good men."
I turned to the temples, and a soft breeze blew to me from their lovely facades. I brushed errant curls away from my face. "What, Aghaye Leandre, can you teach me about the use of your arresting temples? I have heard that D'Angelines have many gods. It is not so in my land. If it is not forward for a guest in this country, I would like very much to understand this pantheon and its worshippers."
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Post by Léandre de Guivre on Jan 25, 2010 14:42:03 GMT -5
Well, well, a Drujani was a rare sight in Terre D'Ange indeed.I had read of the mad Mahrkagir, of course. The stories gave many a D'Angeline writer the excuse to extol the virtues of Terre d'Ange over misguided foreign powers. It was pure arrogance, as far as I was concerned.
I pondered his question. In fact, it was more like many questions rolled into one. "Their use, to use your phrasing, largely depends on the wishes of the visitor to the temple." I nodded towards Kushiel's temple. "In front of us is Kushiel's temple, one of the Companions of Blessed Elua. Kushiel is the punisher of the One God, D'Angelines most often go to his temple to seek penance for their sins." I turned towards him again. "Blessed Elua is the most prominent deity worshiped by D'Angelines, but the eight Companions are no less honoured. A priest of Elua could probably give you more information. I am unaccustomed to spending a lot of time in temples."
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Post by Asfandiyar Azarkevanejad on Jan 25, 2010 16:08:16 GMT -5
"For me, quite the opposite," I replied, glancing down at my puppy, whose face was turned up towards mine. "I was raised, educated and housed within them all my life. Perhaps this is why I feel so … serene… in this place." Well, serene but for the sudden suffusion of heat that penetrated my breast when Leandre pronounced the name of Kushiel. I turned my eyes toward His temple, unable somehow to look away. 'Punisher of the One God'. A place to wash away sins, a place for attrition. My breath came jaggedly for a moment. Though a little distractedly, I resolved not to betray my weak nature.
"My lord, if I may ask, why is it that you come amongst the temples if they do not succor your heart? Do not all D'Angeline's follow in the steps of these... Companions of Blessed Elua?" The words tasted lovely on my tongue. I did indeed enjoy this gentle language.
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Post by Léandre de Guivre on Jan 25, 2010 16:46:52 GMT -5
"One might as well say that all foreigners are uneducated savages, but you and I know that that is not the case," I glanced toward Kushiel's temple. "My mother was a priestess of Shemhazai. The legends say that Shemhazai taught D'Angelines the written language." I shrugged. "If the gods do exist, they have not seen fit to inform me of their existence. As for why I am here..." I made a gesture encompassing the entire district. "Look around you and tell me that you could not appreciate such a view."
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Post by Asfandiyar Azarkevanejad on Jan 25, 2010 17:21:02 GMT -5
I followed his arm and naturally agreed in full. "Some might say it is only the expression of beauty, and the reality of becoming lost in its thrall, which is capable of 'informing' man of the existence of the divine," I mentioned, cocking an eyebrow and smiling sidelong at Leandre's cynical comment. "But far be it for this uneducated savage to complicate the simple grace of mankind's achievements and his interesting activities." I hoped Leandre caught my playful tone. I had never been the type to argue with a man's understanding of his world. It was not the way of my people to press our beliefs upon others, as Zarathusht bade us respect all paths to the One God. And above all, to respect human will when directed toward good.
"Your mother's god…. Shemhazai. If He is indeed a god of written language, it seems you share at least some small thing with Him. You observe. No writer was born who did not have a keen eye, threaded to his keen heart. Not even a writing god."
Watching the attractive D'Angelines wend their way back and forth across the square, bathed in golden light, the prickling scents of familiar incenses heavy on the air, I felt as though observing a living poem. "I can believe that your people are beloved of their gods. One can see much happiness in the people's faces here. One can feel their… contentment as they emerge from these temples." I turned to Leandre, a light of eagerness behind my indigo eyes. "You say foreigners are allowed entry. Will you show me?"
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Post by Léandre de Guivre on Jan 25, 2010 17:47:04 GMT -5
"Yes," I agreed, without the usual hesitation on my part. He seemed so eager to learn, to explore, and like many Siovalese, I was not one to discourage such inquisitiveness, especially in a foreigner. I rather liked this man. He was eloquent even in a tongue that was undoubtedly foreign to him, and while I did not share his beliefs--and indeed, the beliefs of my nation at large--his arguments seemed sound. Indeed, I wondered how he would fare in a debate against some of my colleagues.
"Which temple would you like to see first?" I asked. "We are closest to Kushiel's, of course, but the statue of Elua in his temple in the City is one of the oldest images in existence today." How did I manage to land myself in the situation of tour guide to a foreigner? The things one will do for knowledge...
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Post by Asfandiyar Azarkevanejad on Jan 26, 2010 18:22:40 GMT -5
I couldn't deny the inexplicable tightening in my chest, thinking of what might await within Kushiel's temple. I felt it necessary, for now, to postpone visiting. Clasping my hands behind my back, I considered the appropriate -though less titillating - course of action. "I think I would like to begin where the D'Angeline's began. I have heard tell of Elua's beautiful temple, and would like to appreciate it for myself."
I turned my body to indicate that my esteemed guide should lead the way, and my little dog lifted himself up in response. "Ah," I stammered. "Foreigners may be allowed to see the temples… but you, Navid, may not be as welcome I'm afraid." He whined and cocked his head at my tone. "My lord, what do your people feel about the company of dogs?"
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Post by Léandre de Guivre on Jan 26, 2010 19:32:27 GMT -5
I stroked my chin thoughtfully. "Hm, that is an interesting question. Animals of all kinds sheltered Elua as he wandered from place to place, feeding him when he had need of food and such." I began to walk in the direction of the temple. "I am sure a priest of Elua would not mind caring for your companion while you tour the temple. No D'Angeline in his right mind would cause harm to an animal within the temple precincts."
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Post by Asfandiyar Azarkevanejad on Jan 26, 2010 22:12:34 GMT -5
I smiled broadly to know that Navid would be protected while in this sunny land. Being only a lanky puppy, I wished to socialize him and strengthen him as much as I could, but knew it was not done in every place. The Akkadians, for instance, often thought dogs (particularily black hounds like Navid) ill-omened, due to their mournful nighttime cries. But if Elua himself owed comfort and happiness to animals, no such prejudice would follow my young friend.
"I think he might even enjoy making new acquaintances," I smiled down at him, and he responded by wagging his whip-thin tail. He wobbled with the effort, his outsized joints awkward.
I fell in behind Leandre and Navid trotted beside us. Coming out from under the awnings and into warm shafts of sun caused me to turn my face skyward, squinting. "Terre D'Ange's gods are showing me their fairest faces already, my lord. I truth I already feel welcome."
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Post by Léandre de Guivre on Jan 26, 2010 22:49:08 GMT -5
"It is hard to feel unwelcome in the temple district," I replied. "It is the one place in this City where most everyone is on their best behaviour, even one as cynical as myself--apart from the Palace, of course."
I took the opportunity to examine my companion more closely. His robes certainly did not seem as cumbersome as the houppelande that I occasionally wore. I wondered if there was some ceremonial purpose to the garments--symbolic of office, perhaps? Or whether they were simple, everyday wear the way a doublet was to a D'Angeline male.
"Those words you said to me before: Ushta and Aghaye, what is their meaning?" I did have a way with foreign languages, and this was the perfect opportunity to learn what I could of an unfamiliar tongue.
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Post by Asfandiyar Azarkevanejad on Jan 26, 2010 23:24:17 GMT -5
I made a little moue of pleasant surprize. "You have a sharp memory for the pronunciation of words, refigh," I extended a hand to interrupt myself. "'My friend'. It is difficult for me to abandon completely the conventions of my mother tongue. Aghaye is…. Much like 'good sir', I suppose. It is a polite and respectful term with which to address strangers. Ushta is altogether more complex…. It is, among other things, an abiding ecstasy that settles upon one who is at peace with himself. My people offer the hope of experiencing Ushta when they say the word to others. Does the D'Angeline language have a similar concept?"
I suddenly stopped short, in the middle of one of my languid strides. My boot scuffed on the stones with much more volume than I would have expected. A strange sensation overcame my midsection, a blooming warmth which soon sent tingles down my limbs. I felt as though a plucked string. Navid circled me and pawed my thigh, concerned, but I could hardly respond due to a sudden impression that the air immediately forward of me was buckling. My eyelids fluttered and I felt a blackness threaten the edges of my vision, as though I were to faint, and the sounds of the square became distant, muffled. I felt more than heard within my skull a basso vibration, and I thought for a moment I saw dark feathers falling across my narrowed vision. I opened my swollen lips to query the presence that loomed around me, but before sound could come out, I was brought back with a dizzying rush to perfect lucidity. The sounds of the temple square clamoured back over me like a tide, and I spun on my heel to face where Leandre and I had begun our conversation. I was staring down Kushiel's temple, rising magnificently, and somehow more familiar, into the blue sky.
"I must beg your indulgence of my erratic desires, refigh," I began, my voice coming lower than normal and sounding somewhat somnambulant. "But I have just been moved to return to the temple of Kushiel."
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Post by Léandre de Guivre on Jan 26, 2010 23:45:25 GMT -5
I mouthed the words to myself as he said them. It was easier for me to grasp the subtle nuances of language through repetition of words and phrases, rolling them around on my tongue, meditating on the meaning until I was certain I understood it, at least as far as a speaker of D'Angeline could understand the words of foreigners.
I pondered a response to his question. "In truth, there are many words that, when taken together, could, perhaps, be roughly equivalent to Ushta, but I think the kiss of greeting might be a D'Angeline equivalent, embodying Elua's precept of 'Love as thou wilt' as it were."
I was about to say more, when I noticed how he paused, as if he had heard his name being called by someone out of range of my hearing. I raised an eyebrow at his quick apology, but nodded just the same.
"It is not a problem at all," I said, turning and beginning to retrace our steps. I suppose now my colleagues would accuse me of indulging in a foreigner's flights of fancy. Ah, the things I did for want of knowledge...
"While we walk, you will perhaps indulge my curiosity and tell me what refigh means." I said, adjusting my collar as I walked. "We Siovalese are known for our insatiable curiosity, I'm afraid..."
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Post by Asfandiyar Azarkevanejad on Jan 27, 2010 3:27:32 GMT -5
I led the way this time, retracing our footfalls back toward the temple. "Refigh… 'Friend'." I explained, though a little distractedly. This experience had caught me unawares. Usually I could feel visions or callings on their way to me, like ripples from a far-off splash, reaching shore. "I do hope I may call you that, my lord." I gave a little bow back in his direction, my eyes humble. "Hm, so you are not of the City of Elua? I have not heard tell of your Siovale."
"Though I have heard some say that curiosity is too dangerous," I mused, looking up at the temple façade. My words echoed my thoughts tangentially - thoughts of what divine attrition might entail rounded my mind like buzzards. The house of Kushiel seemed to cast deeper shadows than the other temples. A trick of the light no less. "There is that Hellene tale… and the Ch'in say the same. As though danger to one's person could ever be more terrifying than an endless blot of ignorance. The body, indeed the self, is so fleeting. No danger can stand long against the rapid course of history. Curiosity makes one step into its river, paying no mind to the ego and it's succor. And yet only those who shed ego and follow their curiosities are ever scribed upon the tablet of history. Safety condemns one to being forgotten. The lady Pandora will never be forgotten, though she released untold evil. So, what is wiser, I wonder?"
The scent of temple incense -dragonsblood resin, cinnamon, frankinscense - wafted to me like a promise.
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Post by Léandre de Guivre on Jan 27, 2010 9:39:49 GMT -5
"You are forgetting that when Pandora released all the evils in the world, hope remained, and hope is what vanquishes all ills...so they say," I countered. "Besides, the Hellenes--at least in certain places--have no love for women." It was a quaint little story, however. "I myself would rather seek the truth than live in ignorance, and sometimes knowledge carries a price."
As we approached the temple, I could not help but notice the sensation that comes when one is being watched by someone unseen. I turned my head, noticing a young acolyte with a broom clasped in his hand, undoubtedly in the middle of some chore or another. He all but dropped the broom and hurried over to us, no doubt possessed by the same curiosity of which we had just spoken.
"Be welcome, my lords," he murmured, bowing awkwardly as if he was not yet accustomed to the gesture. "That is a lovely dog," he continued. "Might I touch him?"
Oh yes, he was an acolyte for certain, thinking with his heart instead of his head.
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Post by Asfandiyar Azarkevanejad on Jan 27, 2010 16:10:30 GMT -5
"There is always hope," I smiled to myself, coming under the great arch of the doorway. "Which is why fear of the unknown - fear of the consequences of curiosity - is entirely foolish. Everything in this world has a price, for nothing can be changed or disturbed without something coming to fill the place it leaves behind, always in flux. It is the way of Asha: truth, balance. One must only be unafraid to give something of oneself in order to gain something else. It is not so terrible."
A young boy who had been tidying the temple precints dashed up to us and looked between Leandre and I with eager eyes. "Of course, young friend," I replied, and Navid bounded toward the boy with a wagging tail. "In truth, I would ask you a favour."
"My lord?" The boy ruffled my puppy's ears, slightly distracted.
"If you would be obliged, and would not be punished by your superiors for it… could you perhaps keep Navid occupied for a short while? My friend and I wish to visit the Temple and would not deign to interrupt the worshippers inside with Navid's enthusiasm."
The boys eyes lit as he crouched to play gently with the lanky black pup. "As you wish, my lord," He replied, eyes only for Navid.
"I thank you," I bowed slightly, respectfully, and smiled down over the pair, though both were entirely preoccupied with their frolic. So I turned back to Leandre. "Is there anything I must know, or ritual I must perform, before coming before Kushiel?" I could feel a thrumming in my chest, like the anticipation of the hard earth before the quaking of a volcano.
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Post by Léandre de Guivre on Jan 27, 2010 17:59:43 GMT -5
I could not recall one instance where I had ever set foot inside a temple to Kushiel. It was not normally a place where one would take children, and by the time I was of the age where I understood the concepts of sin and penance I had rejected the entire notion that there were gods at all.
I watched the acolyte and the dog play in the grass as I mentally turned the pages of every book I had ever read on D'Angeline religion, listened to remembered snatches of conversation wherein a visit to the temple was described, and from all this, came up with a plausible response.
"Well, those who come to make penance are given a bath before they enter the temple. It is traditional to offer incense in exchange for coin--you throw it on the brazier in front of the effigy. In front of the effigy there will be a post, it is used for...floggings..." I suppressed a shudder at the mention of the practice, it was one of the few barbaric practices that still survived in this land. "Pay no heed to the penitents, the chastisers are capable men and women."
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Post by Asfandiyar Azarkevanejad on Jan 27, 2010 18:37:41 GMT -5
As we moved inside, the golden light of the precinct seemed to suddenly shut like the pages of a book. A meditative half-light, candle-pierced, swept over me, as did a sense of being enfolded. If it had been a gentle caress, a blanket wrapped around me, I would not have given the shudder I did; instead it was like finding myself a small mammal under the shadow of a descending raptor. I looked around me with both a sense of wonder and trepidation, and I felt that tingle race under my skin again, a thin Atash-flame.
"Can one offer incense to the god without taking penance?" I questioned, a little subdued by the looming presence that now crackled the air around me. I did indeed feel hunted by an unseen conciousness. Whispers came to me, unintelligible. I assumed they could not be heard by anyone else.
Then I heard another kind of whisper… Distant whistling of a whip through air. It echoed down the halls, followed by its inevitable smack on moist skin. I visibly shivered and shut my eyes, and my skin rose up into goosepimples.
Leandre called the practice barbaric. I would keep the memory close, then, in his presence. He would think much less of me, and perhaps even scorn me, as many good people in my life had, if he knew how familiar my flesh was with the lash.
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Post by Léandre de Guivre on Jan 27, 2010 18:56:32 GMT -5
"If D'Angelines only sought Kushiel's succor through penance this temple would be impoverished," I remarked as we walked through the room that housed the baths, steam caressing my exposed skin. I noticed one of the priests of Kushiel watching us as we progressed, his--or her--bronze mask preventing any assessment of their opinion of the matter of foreigners in the temple, for surely they could not miss the strange dress of my companion.
"The priests and priestesses of Kushiel are seldom seen without their masks," I explained. "They are to be impartial, anonymous, and I suspect they are meant to make the penitent feel as if their chastisement comes at the hands of Kushiel himself."
I paused at the door which led into the main room of the temple. "The effigy is through this door," I explained. "I have heard it can be...overwhelming...to behold it at first. Try to take short breaths so that the smoke from the incense is not so bothersome."
I stood to the side of the door, like a sentry. "When you are ready..." I prompted, hoping I sounded encouraging.
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Post by Asfandiyar Azarkevanejad on Jan 27, 2010 19:59:33 GMT -5
As we walked past, I studied the bronze mask of the one who watched us. Somehow the mask was a comfort though the body behind it was a complete mystery. The face of the mask was stern but I could hear the echo of human breath within it. I wondered if it were odd for a supplicant to stare directly as I was, unintimidated for reasons I could not name. We approached a massive bronze door, the same rich foreboding shade of the priest's mask, but worked with sigils of keys. Leandre stood aside and offered encouragement.
"I'm glad I can offer something to great Kushiel," I mentioned, almost in a whisper. Sibilant, invisible shades brushed my cheek like water-serpents the closer I neared the door. It was as though I were being pushed from behind. The wide doors swung inward, pulled by a pair of initiates, and a cloud of incense and heat billowed out to receive me. My lungs filled with the ember-flash burn of it but I did not cough. It in fact made me feel quite at home - it was the air of the sacred spaces in which I had come to adulthood. I strode inside, and as the curtain of incense cleared, I saw the effigy of Kushiel rising with a dark gleam, enormous, imposing. His arms were crossed over a broad breast, a rod in one fisted hand, flail in the other. I gasped as my eyes rose over his set expression, the altar fire, so like my people's Atash-flames, flickering over his features with tongues of brazen light.
I had only taken a few steps toward the god when the feelings hit me. As though taking a punch to the stomach I buckled, struggling to stand. My heart beat with a rhythm and violence which assured me it would burst, and I searched Kushiel's staring bronze eyes for answers. I was too overwhelmed to make a sound, but that strange fainting sensation was coming over me again. The world narrowed to a still point through which I could only see the god's face and the flickering flames, and then a far-off sound. I strained to hear it, feeling reality slow around me. As it grew nearer I recognized it. The clamour of great bronze gongs… no… the beating of wings.
"What is this…?" I asked meekly, unaware whether I spoke it aloud or not. The query broke the spell I was under and it rushed away just as the feeling had done in the square. Touching my brow, I felt a thin sweat. With urgency I went to an offering table and exchanged coin for grains of incense, then approached the altar fire, casting the grains over it. The flame leapt and flashed with a tinge of blue, and the light moving over his stern face caused the illusion that he was looking directly down upon me.
"You are truly a powerful spirit, Yazata," I said to him in my mother tongue, under my breath. "I am not of your people, and yet I know you speak to me. But I do not know what it is you're trying to tell me." I stared up at the god a long while, flames of the altar flickering over my pale skin.
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Post by Léandre de Guivre on Jan 27, 2010 20:19:38 GMT -5
I stood at what I wagered was a respectful distance from the effigy and my companion, content to observe what was going on around us. There were a few kneeling forms off to one side, while others simply stared up at the effigy.
The blood on the flagstones was fresh, that much I could see through the clouds of incense that assaulted all the senses. The scent remained on one's clothes for days at a time, and if they were attempting to mask the scent of blood they were failing at it.
Well, at least it was warm inside, and the flickering of the flames was comforting, if a little ominous.
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Post by Asfandiyar Azarkevanejad on Jan 28, 2010 2:48:54 GMT -5
The whimpering of the penitants beyond the walls shook me back to conciousness of the room, and my weak and fleshen gaze broke from the eternal eyes of Kushiel. I curled my arms into my chest protectively, and realizing that I had been in some distant reverie and unaware of my actions, I embarrassedly glanced around me. I noted for the first time the supplicants in the corners of the room, kneeling on the unforgiving travertine of the temple floor, attended always by the bronze-faced priests and priestesses. Some kneeled only to pray, fresh from the outdoors, as though they had passed by on their ways home; others kneeled naked and bound, their bodies straining to remain upright and to show few signs of the pain I knew was shooting through their knees, backs and crumpled, bloodless calves. I wondered darkly if that kind of prayer did for these D'Angelines what complete suffering did for me.
I wondered, equally dismal, whether yazata Kushiel would be pleased with me if he witnessed my pain, now that I was in his land and under his sweeping, complacent gaze. A tremor of shock went through me as I registered and recognized the pleasure this profane thought brought me. 'Daeva-spawn,' I chastised myself mentally, and pushed my spidery hand into my hair and tugged it hard to silence such obscene contemplations.
I straightened defiantly and spun on my heel, nodding to a nearby priestess as I moved back toward Leandre. I could feel that my gait was betrayingly rapid, and heat went over my cheeks as I considered that my new friend might have noticed my behaviour. But he was languid under the arch of the door, seeming to try his hardest not to notice the… benedictions… of which he clearly did not approve. I approached him, attempting to brush off the lingering palpitations left by my strange experience.
"Mamnoon, Leandre, 'thank you'," I bowed a little to him. "I believe I have seen what I came to see. I shant make you wait any longer."
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Post by Léandre de Guivre on Jan 28, 2010 9:22:35 GMT -5
I raised a questioning eyebrow at the way he pulled his hair, no doubt some form of chastisement for...thinking sinful thoughts? I wondered what he would make of the Cassilines. They too were obsessed with punishing themselves, or perhaps I was reading too much into the gesture.
I watched him approach, a slight blush to his cheeks, and it suddenly occurred to me that he was very...womanish...in his mannerisms. Far be it for me to comment on such things, for many of the older bloodlines tended to produce men with the same qualities.
"No, no, you should not concern yourself with my comfort," I replied. "If you feel you still have more to do here, then you must do what you feel is right..."
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Post by Asfandiyar Azarkevanejad on Jan 28, 2010 18:30:44 GMT -5
"I am certain that I have not done with this place. Yazata Kushiel is very persuasive," I said, giving a little weakened shiver. For some reason I could not bring myself to raise my head and meet Leandre's perceptive eyes. My hair shaded my face.
"But whatever else is in store for me here, I do not yet believe I am prepared. I thank you, refigh, for bringing me to this temple. But I believe I need to breathe less weighty air a moment."
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Post by Léandre de Guivre on Jan 28, 2010 18:46:47 GMT -5
My sentiments exactly I thought as I nodded. "Come, then, there are plenty of places in the City of Elua where the air is less...oppressive..."
I was relieved when we entered the baths again, for the scent of incense was not half as strong as it was in the main room. "Are there similarities between the temples here and the ones you have in your homeland?" I asked, eager to learn as much about the customs of his people that he was willing to share.
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Post by Asfandiyar Azarkevanejad on Jan 28, 2010 19:39:28 GMT -5
I managed a weak smile as we passed the baths, and the sweet, clean feel of mist-imbued air moved over my face, dew clinging to my curls. I felt as though moving through an invisible barrier from dream into reality, and could suddenly breathe.
"Yes, the temples of Ahura Mazda - The Atashkadah - are much the same as this. Cavernous and stony, with hidden places, usually domed, and with four great pillars. We do not have large temple precincts as such, however. And no effigies. We do not typically glorify the building, for what is essential to our worship can be relocated anywhere. Though the old ways seep through and effigies of the Yazatas may accompany lesser fires in small local places of worship.
But we share in common a worshipful flame. In my homeland, though, we direct our prayers to that flame, though it is not fire itself that we revere. The sacred fire of the temples is called Atash - Eternal Fire. It is lit from other, elder fires, and remains ablaze at all times. There are said to be three especially sacred Atash fires that have been burning for thousands of years without cease, and they are of the purest grade of fire possible. From those three come the embers that light other Atash-flames, and from those, embers to light even more. And so it goes, that all our sacred fires are linked, like a family. " I laced my strange, spidery fingers together before me to illustrate the point.
"However it is not necessary to have Atash-flames to worship. They are just the most potent symbol of the light of Ahura Mazda. Any source of light can be considered his own. So the hearth-flame, a candle in the dark, or even morning sunlight, are all aspects of his goodness. Each one of my people is the true temple to Ahura Mazda, wherever he goes."
It strengthened my heart to speak of Drujani ways, as though I were bringing the Great God closer to me, girding him around me after the harrowing experience of Yazata Kushiel. I did not fear this powerful spirit, but I would be unwise to remain unwary of him now. Could his way truly be a face of Ahura Mazda?
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