[The Chapel] Changing Times, Changing Minds [Veldrys]

[Sela]

Timestamp: 20th Winter 511 A.V.

The flurry came down fast and thick, with small crystalline particles of ice and snow throwing them against Sela's already chilled skin. Her eyes were almost completely obscured by the mini-blizzard, rendering the street and houses before her to little more than grey, meaningless blobs. Twice now she had slipped on patches of ice, and her all-too-fragile body was showing it.

Petching snow! This is why I was so happy to leave the Wastes! Raced across her mind like a lightning bolt, and it was at that exact instant she spotted the door. A door to a public place. Sela gasped her relief and teetered near it, forgoing the cautious tread with which she had walked since the second fall. She managed to keep her balance this time around, and, with a desperate hand, she seized the doorknob and thrust it open.

The torch scones nearly blinded her as she walked in, rendering the surroundings a brilliant shade of white. Once her stolen eyes had adjusted to the change in light, Sela saw where she was - a chapel, fine and ornate, clad proudly in metal and wood.

She froze, her coals for eyes moving dully around the room. The snowstorm, escaping in from the open door, chilled her back, but her front seemed colder still. For a split second she was motionless, and then she slowly moved from the doorframe and entered the church. Her hand closed the door forcefully, shutting out the freezed-over hell behind her.

She moved slowly and languidly, as if in a dream. An idle hand fell to the backing of a pew, reveling in the sensation of wood beneath her fingers, dulled by undeath though it was. But she kept moving forward, ignoring any and all worshipers, in her path or in the pews. She approached the altar, but with trepidation. While she got close to it, she never laid her hand on it, keeping her body away from the altar. As though she was afraid of it.

Her dark eyes might have seemed locked on the shrine in front of her, but they were seeing other times. It was the same shrine...but in a way still different. Younger. And she - in a different body, with a different soul - was praying. Hunched over the altar, praying fiercely, words escaping from his lips: Aquiras, Aquiras, Aquiras...AQUIRAS!

Sela snarled and took a step back, returning to the now-and-then. "No, no longer..." She muttered. "...No longer." But despite her brave words, her thin arms came up to grab her thin chest in a feeble attempt at reassurance. She looked pitiful in her huddled state, very pitiful indeed...and also very alone.

"No longer...That was my decision, my choice..."

[Veldrys]

He watched her from the shadows near the wall, with no small amount of fascination. She had already attracted his attention the moment she had entered the Chapel. She looked different from the rest of the humans in Denval. Her skin was darker, and there was something strange about the way she moved, something that he couldn’t explain. They way that she looked at the altar, the things that she murmurred, what did they mean? No longer? What had happened to her? What had she done? She seemed so desperate, so lonely that it almost hurt to look at her ...

He came closer, slowly, nearly silently. „No longer“, he agreed. He spoke Common with a strong accent, a sign that he had only learned the language later in life. „Whatever has happened is over.“ His voice was calm, gentle, reassuring, but if she turned her head, she would find herself looking into a face that was anything but. The man that stood next to her wasn’t human. His pale face with the amethyst eyes could have almost passed for human, but his arms were slightly too long and ended in black claws, and his hair seemed to be made of pure silver.

„If you wish, we can talk about it.“ In his clothes he would have looked almost like a priest if they hadn’t been blood red, if it weren’t for the strange mark on his arm, a red chain. If he was a priest at all, then he was a priest of blood.

[Sela]

Sela stiffened once she felt the man's presence behind her. The words were stoppered almost immediately, cutting off raggedly.

He spoke Common with a strange accent, one that was hard to place. Sela had been many places, but it seemed not wherever this man was from. She half-turned, exposing a small face and fierce black eyes to the man. The coals worked their way across him, evaluating, examining him. At a passing glance, he might have been human. But closer inspection revealed he was not- in that way, he and Sela might have been kin. But not in any other way.

"And what do you know about me?" She demanded, turning her face away. "Nothing. You know nothing. Nobody here knows anything about me." The last words were bit off bitterly, as though she couldn't long to force them away.

At once, Sela straightened up, trying to reach her full height. It was a futile gesture, as she still stood heads-and-shoulders below the man. She found it demeaning that she had to speak up to him, which might have inspired the rancor in her following words;

"Talking? How useless. Talking does no one any good. Words, that's all. Words, words, words...they are but lies, spun in tongues and false emotions. Only actions matter...or inaction, in the right situation." Sela cast a loaded look at the other. "And what are you? One who acts, or one who talks?"

"From your robes, I say'd you're a priest...or want to be. If that is the case, I'd say you're one who talks instead of acts. Correct?" The cruel words were tempered by unshed tears in the woman's eyes, one hand still hovering over the altar like it was a campfire. One might have thought she wanted to get warm, but was afraid of being burnt...

Petch, when did I get so damn emotional?

[Veldrys]

„I don’t know your name or your history“, the Symenestra replied. Unlike hers, his voice was calm and exceptionally polite. The look in his eyes was gentle, as if he weren’t venomous, as if none of the stories that were told about his people were true, as if he were just like the humans that were so common in Denval. „But I do know something about you. The way that you hold yourself, the way that you move, the look in your eyes, the things that you say, they tell me something about what kind of person you are. Do you want to know what?“

„Actions matter“, he agreed because it was the truth. „But what good are actions without words to explain them, without words to describe how you really feel? Talking can help, if you let actions follow your words, and people do not always tell lies. As for what I am, I am both. I’m not a man of empty words. I would love to claim that I never lie as well, but in the end I’m just like the rest of us and prone to making mistakes.“

As she guessed that he was a priest, he nodded curtly. „I serve Viratas“, he explained. He didn’t react to her assumption that he was one who talked instead of acting. It was unnecessary in his opinion, especially considering what he had said before. Besides, he couldn’t help but notice the look in her eyes.

She seemed hurt. She seemed to be frustrated that she had to look up to him. She didn’t seem to like that he was taller than her, and thus he took a seat near the altar, so that he would be the one looking up.

„Why did you come into the Chapel?“ he wanted to know.

[Sela]

The man stayed. That was curious. Beyond the watery expression, Sela tilted her head and watched him, saw his kind expression. Usually by now the sensitive ones made their excuses and ran away. Seemed like this one was stronger than she thought.

"What is it that you know about me?" The shift was sudden - her voice, which had been racing in volume and tempo only moments ago, was soft. Quiet. Gentle. As though her anger had abated, which it might very well have. "I did not know that the way I moved said something about me. Explain...please," That last word was added as an afterthought, to counter the syllables of command she had uttered only moments ago. For the one who specialized in reading people, such new techniques were eagerly welcomed. Like a smith improving his craft, or a carpenter finding a more efficient way to cut wood. All incoming information was devoured with an almost fervent expression.

"If you act properly, everything you are trying to convey can be conveyed," she replied to the man's reply of his own. A small, humorless smile flitted across her features. "And in less time, too."

"But I am too hasty. Words do have their place in this world. Otherwise, why would have the Gods have given them to us?" Then, in an undertone, so the follower before her couldn't hear, she muttered, "Not that everything they give us is good, though." She spared him a curious sidelong glance thereafter. "Why do you speak of lies as a bad thing?" she wondered aloud. "Given the right situation, they are just as helpful as truth." she said with conviction, as though speaking from experience.

"Viratas? The...blood god. Yes. Are you one of his..." she searched for the proper word, "...people?" she finished lamely, having sought for it and failed. "The spider people, I mean. Sym..." she trailed off.

The man took a seat in the pew, an act which caused Sela to startle back, surprised. She simply looked at him for a second with those black eyes of hers, than sighed. She took the seat next to him reluctantly, but took it nonetheless; it was her way of making a concession to match his own.

"Honestly, I didn't know this was the Chapel when I entered," Sela admitted in one muttered breath. "I was really just looking for a place to get out of the cold. And, of course, I came in...here." she waved her hands at their surroundings to accentuate her point.

"Who are you? What is your name?" she asked a question of her own, though thus far she had spared no personal details of her own. Sela knew that names were important, that they were a handle on the person and a glance into their innermost essence. She liked knowing names, if not exactly happy with the situation reversed. It was therefore with mingled anxiety and trepidation she awaited the priest's response.

[Veldrys]

„Confident people usually move with confidence“, the Symenestra explained. „Shy people will always stick to the walls and be hesitant to stand in the center of the room. If somebody is angry, it is reflected in the way they act as well. Strangers will always act different from people that are familiar with a certain place. I saw you in front of the altar. There was something unusual about the way you looked at it, about the way you said Aquiras‘ name. This is not the first time you have come to Denval, is it?“ This was a mere guess. Veldrys could not read minds nor did he wish to, but in his opinion Sela’s behaviour was unusual for a complete stranger. Few from outside cared about Aquiras. „What kind of meaning does the god whose heart was stolen have for you?“

„No, sometimes actions can be misinterpreted“, he argued. „Different actions have different meanings, depending on where you come from.“ As she conceded that words did have their place in this world, he inclined his head. „No, not everything the gods give to us is good“, he agreed. „As for lies, most of the time they are a bad thing. I’d rather tell the truth. But lies can be justified if they help to save a life or prevent a fight.“ He wished he would never have to lie, that he could tell the truth about his race without people recoiling in fear and disgust, that they would understand, but of course that was just wishful thinking.

„I am one of his people. I am a Symenestra“, he confirmed and smiled a somewhat bitter smile, aware of what kind of reputation his people had in most of the world. „It is warm here“, he said to her. „Warmer than outside at least, so you can stay as long as you want to. I don’t think my god minds.“

„My name is Veldrys“, he introduced himself. „And what may I call you?“

[Sela]

“Aquiras holds no meaning for me.” Sela mumbled, something almost like discomfiture shading the bitter timbre of her voice. “Not anymore.” Her hands trembled in her laps with the pain of a thousand years separated from her patron.

The fingers met, steadied each other with their cold grasp. Her eyes were downcast, watching them; and silence stagnated around her form. For a few moments, nothing was said. No words passed icy blue lips. And then:

“Truth is only a matter of perception.” she spoke suddenly, eerily. “People accept only what they want to hear. That is their truth, and anything else is false. For them. So I say only the things that I need to say. The things that comfort them, or...do not.”

A worried glance was thrown sideways. “Is that wrong?”

Sela sighed with the word Symenestra, feeling the back of her head meet the wood of the pew backing. It was almost as cold as she.

“I remember now…” her eyes were closed, the world of today replaced by the world of yesterday. “Symenestra…yes. I know you kind, I’ve met one of you before.” Her eyes opened. “He tried to kidnap me.” The eyes trailed to Veldrys again. Ironic was the fire dwelling there.

“Are you going to try to kidnap me...Veldrys? If you do...please don't refer to me as 'slave'. Call me Sela.” A smile twitched blue lips.

[Veldrys]

„Your hands are trembling though“, the Symenestra observed as Sela claimed that Aquiras held no meaning for her anymore. „You still think about him every now and then. Why does the mention of his name make you uncomfortable?“ He furrowed his brow as he asked this. Her behaviour didn’t make any sense to him. Why had she averted her gaze? What had happened between her and the sleeping god?

„Personally I’d rather have the real truth“, he said. „I don’t want people to tell me what they think I want to hear. I don’t want some obscure kind of half-truth. As far as I am concerned, truth is not only a matter of perception. There is an absolute kind of truth somewhere out there. As to whether what you think is wrong …“ He thought about it for a moment. „It’s not wrong. It’s different from what I would do, but it’s not completely wrong. There are times when it’s better to say very little, when it’s better to comfort people, to say what they want to hear.“

As she stated that she remembered his kind, he arched an eyebrow. „He tried to kidnap you?“ He made a face. Hearing about the Harvest, even thinking about it always made him uncomfortable. He knew that it was necessary to ensure his race’s survival, that it was better if others died instead of them, but still, he wished that things were different. He didn’t know how to act when people mentioned it. „I’m glad that you got away then.“

„And rest assured, I have no intention of kidnapping you, Sela. If I had wanted to do that, I wouldn’t have started a conversation with you. And neither will I refer to you as a slave.“ There was no smile on his face. Veldrys sounded very serious, and he wasn’t particularly happy about the turn the conversation had taken.