Post by Naia Shahrizai on Jun 8, 2010 22:27:49 GMT -5
Week 6 of Winter, Year Two of Queen Sabrina's Reign
I had done everything Azriel had asked of me: apologized, registered for a class (art, which I thought would make a good start and be something I enjoyed), and I had not gone out and drank all week, nor visited the Dragon's Den, though that was more difficult than I'd imagined. Even so, I woke every morning feeling ill and discontent and now that I wasn't drinking away the pain, it was a constant ache in my heart and a knot in my belly. It wasn't just the same old hurts that I had nursed for so long - it was everything that I had done since coming to the City.
No matter what I believed about Sarielle's motives in leaving me behind, I had never once asked her about them. I had been afraid to ask the question, and instead I had done everything I could to make her hate me - just as I always feared that she did. I had done things to hurt her, and others, and I had disappointed Azriel terribly. Even Sinclair, who was supposed to be my best friend, I had hurt even him, tricking him into being a spectacle at my party. I hurt everyone I cared about, in one way or another, and now that I had been sober even for one week, I could see it all in stark relief, painted across my conscious in vivid hues so that I could not ignore my sins.
I thought about it, and it occurred to me that people did penance for sins. Like my doing everything Azriel had asked of me in order to win his forgiveness, I could perhaps find penance for all of my wrongs. Was that not what Kushiel offered, a loving expiation of one's sins?
When I first came to the City, I had gone oft to the Temple, though I did not really know why. Maybe subconsciously I had known that this was coming, that it was a matter of time before I was here not just to visit.
I was brought first to the baths of purification, hot steamy water that smelled faintly of sulphur. I left my clothing near the tub and sank into the water, all under the watchful eyes of a Priestess who said nothing. When I was deemed clean, I was bid with a mere look to dress again, which I did, though it was rather difficult, being wet and with my long hair trailing streams of water down my back.
I was led now to another chamber, a large effigy of Kushiel dominating the room. More Priests and Priestesses were in this room, though I noticed nothing save mighty Kushiel, my eyes drawn to him as they already began to sting with tears. One of the Priests addressed me and I turned my attention to him, trying to ignore the flogger he held, though my stomach had twisted with fear.
"Do you seek to offer penance?" He asked, his tone formal.
"I do." I said, surprised at the strength in my voice, despite my fear. The man wore a mask, so that I would not know his face, and for some reason I found that oddly comforting. The eyes that peered from behind it were full of compassion and it was also comforting beyond measure.
Suddenly, I was being disrobed, and I had to wonder at the point of dressing just to be undressed again, but of course, I might have changed my mind, I supposed. I didn't have the chance to think too much on it, however, as a hand at my shoulder pressed me none too gently to my knees on the cold stone floor. The Priest stepped aside to reveal a whipping post and I had to bite back a whimper that seemed to come out of nowhere. My hands were bound to a ring at the top of it, above my head, though not so far as to make my shoulders ache.
When the Priest with the flogger stepped forward again, I closed my eyes as the fear became stronger now, almost overpowering ... and here there was no signale for when the pain passed my threshold.
When the flogger cracked against my back, I didn't cry out, but only because the flare of pain drove the breath from my body. It was nothing like the things that I had played at; no, this was true pain, with no pleasure to take the sting out of it. The second blow was just as harsh and my body jerked against the post, as if I could escape the flogger by writhing and twisting. The man was an expert, however, and he seemed to account for my every movement, the blows falling in succession until I was aware of nothing but the agony of pain that engulfed me.
I was aware at some point of something else, a presence, loving and stern, kind and unyielding ... Kushiel? I yearned toward it, toward finding the thing that had always been missing in my life - unconditional love. I was aware that I was sobbing - not because of the pain that exploded across my skin, but rather the pain that was buried deeper, that poured out with the blood that ran in rivulets over my bare skin. I remembered all of the pain father had caused, but then I remembered something else. Sarielle, and all of the love and comfort we had shared as children. Suddenly those memories were sharp in my mind and it seemed ridiculous then that I had ever believed that she hated me ... what basis was there for such? The word of a cruel man who had lived to make me miserable?
And then the pain stopped, or rather, lessened. "You may now make your confession." The priest intoned. I opened my eyes, every bone in my body aching with pain, my knees pressed against the hard stone. My confession? It was so hard to think, so I said the first thing that came to my mind.
"I'm sorry for hurting everyone who cared about me..." It was one sentence, but it was the heart of why I was there. He seemed to understand, for he nodded and then rested the metal tips of the flogger against my cheek. It was odd that I took comfort in that as well.
Then he was gone, and another voice spoke, "Be free of it." I gasped when I felt the sting of saltwater being poured over my wounds, my hands clenching into fists at the pain of it.
Be free of it. Could it be that simple?
Someone released me from my bonds, helped me to my feet, patted my back dry and helped me to dress. The fabric felt like the roughest sandpaper against my sensitive skin, and I wanted nothing more than to crawl into a corner and sleep for a week.
But it was not the time for it, for this was only the first part of this day. I had decided before coming here that if I made my penance, I would go after to Balm House to find succor. I had been feeling ill for weeks now, and after this ordeal, I knew I needed healing, and not just of the spiritual variety.
So it was there I headed, in a carriage borrowed from my dear cousin, the one who had set me on this path, in some measure. I wondered what he would make of this, if I confided in him.
I had done everything Azriel had asked of me: apologized, registered for a class (art, which I thought would make a good start and be something I enjoyed), and I had not gone out and drank all week, nor visited the Dragon's Den, though that was more difficult than I'd imagined. Even so, I woke every morning feeling ill and discontent and now that I wasn't drinking away the pain, it was a constant ache in my heart and a knot in my belly. It wasn't just the same old hurts that I had nursed for so long - it was everything that I had done since coming to the City.
No matter what I believed about Sarielle's motives in leaving me behind, I had never once asked her about them. I had been afraid to ask the question, and instead I had done everything I could to make her hate me - just as I always feared that she did. I had done things to hurt her, and others, and I had disappointed Azriel terribly. Even Sinclair, who was supposed to be my best friend, I had hurt even him, tricking him into being a spectacle at my party. I hurt everyone I cared about, in one way or another, and now that I had been sober even for one week, I could see it all in stark relief, painted across my conscious in vivid hues so that I could not ignore my sins.
I thought about it, and it occurred to me that people did penance for sins. Like my doing everything Azriel had asked of me in order to win his forgiveness, I could perhaps find penance for all of my wrongs. Was that not what Kushiel offered, a loving expiation of one's sins?
When I first came to the City, I had gone oft to the Temple, though I did not really know why. Maybe subconsciously I had known that this was coming, that it was a matter of time before I was here not just to visit.
I was brought first to the baths of purification, hot steamy water that smelled faintly of sulphur. I left my clothing near the tub and sank into the water, all under the watchful eyes of a Priestess who said nothing. When I was deemed clean, I was bid with a mere look to dress again, which I did, though it was rather difficult, being wet and with my long hair trailing streams of water down my back.
I was led now to another chamber, a large effigy of Kushiel dominating the room. More Priests and Priestesses were in this room, though I noticed nothing save mighty Kushiel, my eyes drawn to him as they already began to sting with tears. One of the Priests addressed me and I turned my attention to him, trying to ignore the flogger he held, though my stomach had twisted with fear.
"Do you seek to offer penance?" He asked, his tone formal.
"I do." I said, surprised at the strength in my voice, despite my fear. The man wore a mask, so that I would not know his face, and for some reason I found that oddly comforting. The eyes that peered from behind it were full of compassion and it was also comforting beyond measure.
Suddenly, I was being disrobed, and I had to wonder at the point of dressing just to be undressed again, but of course, I might have changed my mind, I supposed. I didn't have the chance to think too much on it, however, as a hand at my shoulder pressed me none too gently to my knees on the cold stone floor. The Priest stepped aside to reveal a whipping post and I had to bite back a whimper that seemed to come out of nowhere. My hands were bound to a ring at the top of it, above my head, though not so far as to make my shoulders ache.
When the Priest with the flogger stepped forward again, I closed my eyes as the fear became stronger now, almost overpowering ... and here there was no signale for when the pain passed my threshold.
When the flogger cracked against my back, I didn't cry out, but only because the flare of pain drove the breath from my body. It was nothing like the things that I had played at; no, this was true pain, with no pleasure to take the sting out of it. The second blow was just as harsh and my body jerked against the post, as if I could escape the flogger by writhing and twisting. The man was an expert, however, and he seemed to account for my every movement, the blows falling in succession until I was aware of nothing but the agony of pain that engulfed me.
I was aware at some point of something else, a presence, loving and stern, kind and unyielding ... Kushiel? I yearned toward it, toward finding the thing that had always been missing in my life - unconditional love. I was aware that I was sobbing - not because of the pain that exploded across my skin, but rather the pain that was buried deeper, that poured out with the blood that ran in rivulets over my bare skin. I remembered all of the pain father had caused, but then I remembered something else. Sarielle, and all of the love and comfort we had shared as children. Suddenly those memories were sharp in my mind and it seemed ridiculous then that I had ever believed that she hated me ... what basis was there for such? The word of a cruel man who had lived to make me miserable?
And then the pain stopped, or rather, lessened. "You may now make your confession." The priest intoned. I opened my eyes, every bone in my body aching with pain, my knees pressed against the hard stone. My confession? It was so hard to think, so I said the first thing that came to my mind.
"I'm sorry for hurting everyone who cared about me..." It was one sentence, but it was the heart of why I was there. He seemed to understand, for he nodded and then rested the metal tips of the flogger against my cheek. It was odd that I took comfort in that as well.
Then he was gone, and another voice spoke, "Be free of it." I gasped when I felt the sting of saltwater being poured over my wounds, my hands clenching into fists at the pain of it.
Be free of it. Could it be that simple?
Someone released me from my bonds, helped me to my feet, patted my back dry and helped me to dress. The fabric felt like the roughest sandpaper against my sensitive skin, and I wanted nothing more than to crawl into a corner and sleep for a week.
But it was not the time for it, for this was only the first part of this day. I had decided before coming here that if I made my penance, I would go after to Balm House to find succor. I had been feeling ill for weeks now, and after this ordeal, I knew I needed healing, and not just of the spiritual variety.
So it was there I headed, in a carriage borrowed from my dear cousin, the one who had set me on this path, in some measure. I wondered what he would make of this, if I confided in him.