Roleplay City
Oberon Castle => The Temples => OBERON CASTLE: Drink Today, Die Tomorrow => Adora's Sanctuary => Topic started by: Kysis on December 30, 2006, 03:23:47 PM
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Slow steps echoed through the foyer, unsure footfalls. Despite the heavy cloak covering the lithe form, she kept tugging it closer around her, pulling the hood further over his face. Alia could barely see, but that was how it had to be. What would her family think if they caught her here? No, she could never let them know, why she was covered head to toe in the dense cloth. Only a few platinum curls shown, hanging out of the cavernous hood though she did not notice.
With a deep breath that ended in coughs, Alia tried gathering some courage. Talon offered no hope. She knew that now. In fact, one of the clergy had told her to embrace death as Talon smiling upon her. Alia just could not accept that. Biting lightly her ashen lips, she finally came in to the prayer room, shocked but remaining silently reverent. That room was so simple yet so beautiful in her eyes, so different from the spaces offered by Talon. Alia could understand how this place was often called a sanctuary...
Blue eyes roamed the room, picking out a corner that held some shadows, away from the priests and people. Alia had come to pray, wished peace while here. If any saw the daughter of a weapons merchant here... Alia just knelt on the pillow, hands coming together, head lowered. Silence washed over her. No matter how hard she tried, the words just would not come no matter how hard she concentrated, another cough disrupting that. It seemed like sacrilige to cough in such a place, to even go within with how sickly she was. But that did not matter now. She had come, and for a reason.
"Lady of Life... give thy servant strength. I pray to thee, guide my path so that right can be done..." Alia swallowed, her whisper low and hoarse. She must have sounded horrible. Weren\'t the gods supposed to judge on guidelines far above voice, though? Alia was unsure, so she paused her prayer, settling down heavily on her heels. The pillow beneath her legs was not the most comfortable she had used, but it kept her aware, concentrated. Luxury always dulled the mind... or at least that was what her brother was always saying. Alia was not certain of what to believe, but she did know one thing, the reason why she came to this sanctuary, why she had gone through so many complicated steps just to get out of the manor unseen.
"Adora... I don\'t want to die..."
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Pheobe Thibideaux entered the temple soon after, smile creeping across her face as she bathed in the warmth of the space. Her layered skirt matched the colour scheme of the temple, all dark oranges, earthy yellows and russet reds, with a bodice of olive green.
The footsteps of the bard were firm and steady as she approached the center of the center of the sanctuary, eyes closed for a moment as she inhaled the scent of the Earth, of the mother Goddess. "Thank you, mother, for this day," she murmured, still standing in the middle of the temple.
These actions had the air of a ritual, and drew the gazes of a few bored worshippers. but she ignored them, as she was so good at doing when she wanted to, and crossed the room to kneel beside the frail-looking woman. Pheobe prayed, however, with her arms outspread, and her head tilted back, tendrils of glossy black hair spilling free down her back – and her prayers were of thanks, spoken aloud, but in a hushed tone, so as not to disturb the woman kneeling beside her. "Thank you, Lady, for the waters, and the blessings of the land, and the breath in my body. Thank you, Lady, for the voice with which I sing your praises."
Pheobe was everthing that Alia, it seemed, was not. Poor, but happy, and quite robust. She did not hear the things the other woman prayed for, as she thought it rude to listen to the prayers of others. She was not a fanatically religious woman, but she believed very deeply in the Powers That Be.
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Alia took a deep breath, tiny frame stiffening as someone can near, even knelt next to her. She took a quick glance over, noting the clothing, the openness in which the woman prayed. The young woman envied it all, really. The healthiness, the lack of fear, that vibrance of life. Alia sighed, shoulders slumping as she closed her eyes, mouth moving silently as she added more to her prayer. Was it too much to ask for just to be normal?
The readiness to stand was stopped by something else, an intense curiosity that was creeping up on her. This woman seemed one of the common folk, with her simple yet lovely attire, her entire appearence really. Alia had the urge to do something which seemed more of her brother\'s taste, following someone to ask them questions. It was an innocent game really, Alia just wanting to know what it was like to be of average income and average health and average anything else. Alia just wanted to talk to someone other than her family and personal caretaker.
Too many years of being under lock and key had peeked a rebeliousness in her that should not have been present. Yes, Kysis was worse, but Alia was unused to bold moved... however, if she made one, it would not be in the sanctuary propper. No need to disturb hallowed grounds when one did not need to. So Alia waited, pretending as if she were still in dutiful prayer. Alia had been in prayer so much of her life that it was not hard to fake.
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Pheobe finished her prayers shortly thereafter, a contented smile touching the corners of her mouth as she rose to her feet with a practiced ease, doing her best not to disturb the prayers of the woman next to her, though she hummed a tune to herself as she walked away, a jaunty new spring in her step.
She had risen at an uncharacteristically early hour on this day, and nobody had called for her, yet. The bard was planning on using the time for some well-earned relaxation – perhaps even a bath – if no unplanned interruptions made their way into her day. But, unplanned interruptions always had a way of doing that, and she was fine with that, as well. Any day above ground was a good one, in her book. Things she didn\'t plan, she had found, were more likely to make her some coin, anyway.
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Alia waited, counting her shuddering breaths as they rattled from her. She could hear the woman\'s steps quite distinctly, and by the sound of them growing fainter, Alia was drawn to rise. She wrapped up her prayers quickly, keeping to a fast walk as she followed. It would put undue strain on her body, Alia knew it with every hasty step. She could feel the draw, the drain, but pushed on anyway. Alia had questions to ask and would not be foiled once again.
"Miss..."
The young woman had caught up, but at what cost? And what gain, for that matter? Alia found herself at a loss for words, just staring at the woman, hoping she stopped and gave a moment to think. The young woman knew exactly what she wanted to ask the other, but how to phrase it was the hardest part. It would make her come off as crazy, to say the least. Alia did not want that. No, she just wanted a friendly conversation, that was all, and perhaps she could find her answers in there.
"Might I have a moment of your time?"
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Pheobe turned midstep when she was adressed, only to find herself looking into the face of the frail young woman who\'d been kneeling next to her. The bard\'s face broke into a sunny grin, "Why certainly, m\'lady," she said brightly. Their steps had carried thme into the broad foyer, now, which happened to be deserted but for the two of them.
"I don\'t have my fiddle with me, at present," she lamented, "But ( can sing you something, just the same." Usually, people stopped her like this because they knew her face, and desired to hear a song, or a tale; she assumed that this young lady was no different.
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"No, I--" The words were broken off by a cough, Alia\'s hand flying to cover her mouth. Delicately she dabbed away a few specks of blood from her ashen lips, forcing a smile that seemed more like the grimace of a skull. It was the best she could, though, "I was wondering if we could just... talk?"
It might have seemed an odd request. Probably suspicious on many levels. Alia was still new to Oberon, and even back home she had not gotten out much. That lack of people contact left her at a loss, an awkward silence feeling almost like home. Alia just wanted to be friendly. She just wanted to see what a healthy, normal person was like. Her family was a strange one, none of them fitting in with the people back home or here in Oberon. Father was doing the best. Alia tried a smile again, this one not so grim. If she had not been so ill all her life, she might have turned out beautiful, but.... none would ever see that.
"If you are not busy, of course..."
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"Easy there, miss," cautioned Pheobe, noting the cough with some concern. Disease spread quickly among the lower classes, due to inferior medical treatment and close quarters. The last thing she needed was to be infected with some wasting sickness. Her dark brows knit for a moment, but this young lady looked too well bred and well groomed - even under the pallid haze of illness – to be contagious.
"I\'ve got all the time in the world, lassy, and I could talk the hills down – but I think it\'s a healer y\'should think on speakin\' to, not me." A grin crept back to her rosy lips, slow and habitual, as she spoke, "Not meanin\' t\'be rude, o\'course." Pheobe, too, was fairly new to Oberon, but that didn\'t stop her from being anything but herself – every word carrying a hint of good-natured taunting, as if she were being perpetually amused by some private, never-ending joke.
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A long, exhasperated sigh managed out of her colorless lips, azure eyes finding her feet. Alia had heard it too many times. Go see a healer. Go talk to a priest. Go pray more. Go light a chicken\'s foot on fire while dancing around a blue river stone. She just couldn\'t take it any more. This whole illness was too frustrating, and even the change of venue from Greece to here was hardly making a difference. Yes, the streets of Oberon were safer, but...
"I have. I must have seen every healer between here and the sea... You look healthy and.... and happy. What is that like?"
Strange question, yes, but Alia had learned a while ago that money could bring no happiness, nor could possessions. Her father tried giving her everything she wanted within the limits of money, but he could not give her a cure. It seemed like no one could, and that was all she really wanted now, just one healthy day in her life. She might even be able to die happy if she got just that... Alia pushed a few strands of her pale hair back in to her hood, looking back up at the bard. Her big eyes were pleading really.
Was her question too much to ask?
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For once, Pheobe didn\'t have a snappy comeback. Her mouth opened, a parting of full, dark lips, as if she had an immediate answer, but the shut again when she realized she didn\'t have one at all. She thought for a while, mouth set, unsmiling, and folded her arms loosely.
She sensed the girl\'s frustration, and made a mental note to stay away fromt he subject of her illness, unless the young lady herself brought it up again.
"It\'s a gift," she said, at length, "Every day I\'m alive, I\'m breathin\'. My belly ain\'t always full, and I ain\'t always got a place to sleep, and sometimes the little aches of livin\' just keep insistin\' on making me miserable, and I start to think it ain\'t worth it no more, but then I remember: It may be shoddy work, but I\'m alive, and each day is a gift the lady made for me with love, and it won\'t do to spit on it, thinkin\' like that. \'Sides, tomorrow could be better." She shrugged, and her smile returned, "Dunno if that answers your question, but it\'s the best I can do, at present."
She looked up, quickly, directly over Alia\'s shoulder, and spied a rough-hewn bench being vacated near the entrance to the sanctuary. The bard gestured toward it, "Y\'feel like sitting down, lass? Even bein\' healthy and happy that prayer pillow was none too good on my knees, and I\'m feelin\' it now. Doesn\'t do nobody no good, standin\' \'round like this, leastaways."
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Alia forced a smile on to her lips. She viewed life as a gift, definitely, though she had just been introduced to worship of the Lady of Life. Her homeland was so chaotic that such prayer seemed laughable at first, but perhaps... Alia shook her head slightly, walking towards the bench. She needed to sit. Though her thick cloak hid it, her legs had begun to shake a little, and Alia did agree. Those cushions were murder to knees.
"Thank you..."
What else had she to say? Alia was thanking the bard for both the time for her words and for suggesting a seat. In fact, Alia was all too happy when she slumped on to the bench, the weight taken off her feet. Not the most comfortable thing, but better than nothing at all, Alia would have to admit. Pale hands wove together, fiddling with each other in nervousness. Alia was at a loss for words, and despite all the painstakingly long lessons in coversation, Alia could think of none. Her instruction failed, just as Kysis said it would.
Alia did not want to prove her pessimistic brother correct, trying to think of something to say, "A gift? But if you have it every day..."
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Pheobe took a seat beside her – at the most respectful distance the small piece of furniture would allow. She crossed her legs at he ankles, tucking them demurely beneath the bench, and folded her callused hands in her lap.
"You\'re welcome, lass," said Pheobe, "I welcome a challenge." She smiled gently.
"And aye, it is a gift. Any day the Lady could choose to take everything away from under me, and every day she chooses not to is somethin\' sacred." She shrugged, "\'Course, I never known it to be no other way. Always been a fast healer, all that. I reckon you see it differently – not to speak out o\' m\'turn, o\'course." She unfolded her hands to gesture as she spoke the last part, bowing her head in acknowledgement.
Pheobe wasn\'t learned like Alia, but she knew quite a few things about people despite the fact, it seemed. She\'d been studying the other young woman; her manner, her speech, everything about her marked her as upper class. "I\'m goin\' to take a leap here and say that this in\'t where y\'normally come to say your praises, then, miss...?"
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"I am not from around here, so no."
Alia shook her head, running a hand through her platinum curls. It was probably obvious from her appearence alone, her being from some place far away. Of course, she did not realize the bard might be referring specifically to the worship of Adora rather than Talon. In fact, it took a little bit of thinking to riddle it out, Alia feeling like an idiot once she finally had.
"Oh, no. My family, they support Talos. I just... can\'t."
The young woman knew enough about the world to not give details, not to a total stranger. Alia did not want to be a stranger, but... things did not work that way, not that quickly. It took work to figure if someone was trustworthy, Alia not even wishing to part with her name at the moment. She was not supposed to leave the manor without an escort, and not after dark, and not unarmed. Currently she was breaking all three rules, so word of her outing getting back to her family... not something she wanted.
Always err on the side of causion... at least that was how she had been taught.
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Pheobe chose not to ask why her family worshipped Talon. She could guess easily enough. The bard just nodded, and leaned forward, suddenly interested as the other woman called attention to her lovely hair. Pheobe had noticed it\'s uncommon colour before, ut she\'d assumed it was done with grey powder and lead – as was in fashion in some upper class circles.
Bu hair like that never moved so naturally. It was remarkable enough to Pheobe that it made her forget that the young lady hadn\'t offered her name when it was requested, "How\'d you do that t\'your hair, love?" she asked, instead, "It\'s lovely."
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"Do what with it?"
Alia was confused, blinking as she lifted a curling strand up to her own eye level. Her big blues just stared at it, then she looked back to the bard, then to the hair. At a loss for words assumed that Alia had any clue what was happening, which she did not. Was there something wrong with it.
"Well... if you mean how it curls, I use wood pins every morning...."
The young woman shrugged, lithe shoulders rising and falling in an almost unnoticable fashion. Of course, Alia did not notice. It felt like a strain, moving her shoulders, so she did not realize just how little they budged. She was still a bit bewildered too, flustered with a lack of an answer. Alia was used to people with pale features like herself, as Kreos was full of them. Why would it seem so odd to others?
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"No, no," said Pheobe, laughing gently, "How d\'ye get it to be that colour? So pale, and yet...is it as soft as it looks?"
Pheobe realized she was being somewhat forward, and really musch too blunt, but it was lovely.
She leaned back, suddenly, "Oh, I\'m sorry, ye must excuse me," she said, waving a hand, "I just..haven\'t never seen nothin\' like it before in all my born days." She smiled wanly, "Don\'t mean to be pryin\' or nothin\'."
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"The color?" Alia\'s nose wrinkled in a girlish fashion, furrowed brows and twisted lip along with it as she looking back to the ringlet she was holding. Well, Alia hadn\'t seen anyone with hair like hers in Oberon, minus her own family. It was just... strange and new. It was also the first complement Alia had gotten ever that she could remember. Those big blue optics blinked a few more times before she found the strength of voice to speak again, "No, it\'s quite alright. Thank you, it\'s... It\'s the natural color."
Alia could not help but smile. So, this was what it felt like to receive a complement? Alia had never imagined it feeling any good at all. Of course, she was a little over excited, coughing in to her little white cloth. She had gotten good at judging when each ripping cough would come, so they were easy to shield. Alia had been so long in the illness after all... But she would not think of it. Alia actually pushed her hood back so her hair could be better seen, the full palor of her face also in full view now. She\'d forgotten.
"Is it really so strange here in Oberon?" Suddenly Alia understood her brother\'s curiousity about the place, mirroring it herself. Now that there was something for her to wonder over, she wanted to know. It was much like how she felt with her books, unable to put them down until she had read all the way through. Alia was excited to hear the answer.
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"Not just in Oberon, lass," said Pheobe, "I\'ve been travelin\' this country from eas\' to west for most o\' my life, and I can really say I\'ve hever seen hair that colour naturally." She shook her head, and folded her hands in her lap, "Lovely," she murmured, once again, then laughed, "Look at me, cooin\' and droolin\' like a child. Y\'must think I\'m a damn fool!"
She laughed again, at that, "Not that that\'s so far from th\'truth," she added, "My name\'s Pheobe, by the way. Pheobe Thibideaux."
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"Oh."
Well, that did certainly make Alia feel like a sore thumb, sticking out as she really must have. The girl managed a smile though, listening to the name closely and repeating it mentally. Alia was always good with names, not that she was ever introduced to many people to make it an issue. They must have all thought she had chalked her hair too, or something of the sort. At least she could just smile secretly about it and know the truth.
"I\'m Alia Dinaris. It\'s a pleasure to meet you."
Alia had seen people shake hands before, though it was always men (which she disregarded). So, in fashion of how two business partners might do so, Alia extended her slender hand in the offering of a hand-shake. It must have looked strange, with the frilly ends of her dress right there at her wrist. But Alia paid no heed. She only wished friendly conversation, and who better than a bard to give it?
"Where I\'m from, northern Greece, it is quite normal. Might you have stumbled upon Kreos at some time?"