The Temple [Rhu, Milk/Open]

[Zinami]

19th day of Summer, 511 AV, Afternoon-just before dusk Self conscious, she uneasily pressed the palm of a hand that seemed to belong to a faerie to the door before she extended her arm, and it slowly creaked open. She stepped within the well lit temple, awed by the lights cast over the stone-work in brilliant colours. She slipped her four foot eight frame within the towering doors then eased them back together, closed. Her knuckles bore a whitened tinct as her spindly extremities grasped tightly around hand-fulls of her pale-tan cotton cloak, pulling it tightly around her slim figure. She found herself in the centre of a pew towards the back, the sun casting a glow over her flesh and cloak of various hues, dancing over her as she hunched forward, gazing at where she imagined her toes would be within her leather shoes over her knees. Her expression was something of a mask shaded by the darkness thrown by her hood that denied a viewer into her thoughts and emotions. Nine-teen years... where is your protection now, Zina? Didn't think of it.. should I have? You haven't found your god, yet... Your religion... what do you believe in? I-I... I don't know... myself? Unbeknownst to the female with locks of chocolate dripping over her visage in curls, her parted, ever-moving lips had been producing a sound as she hummed very softly to herself. Rather than humming, her private thoughts became words that echoed against the back of the pew before her. Her confused muttering would most likely disturb any within a few yards of her, but other than that, no one would hear her. Her cheeks became flustered, tears began to make themselves known upon her lower lid, threatening to pour over and trigger sobs. She wasn't convincing even herself that she could do everything without help, and that was her reason for being in the temple. Soon, it would be dark, and she would saunter out of here and try to find her saviour in the bottom of a bottle on a lonely stool. This adventure wasn't at all what she'd thought it'd be, and now, the loss of everything she'd had rested upon her shoulders, like a pile of the stones that crafted this fortress of safety.

[Runas]

The Eypharian had her head bowed in prayer, her long black hair, colored with varying red and green paints, tumbled down her back and over her proud shoulders. All six of her hands were clasped into three separate prayer positions, one to each of the three deities she devoted her life to. On the pew against her calves sat her cloak, folded and freshly laundered for the final wink of the sun when she would don it as her features melted into those of another.

To Leth, she prayed for peace in her life on Mizahar. Memories of being at his side plagued her mind every day she walked among the mortals, but Leth always eased her burden at night.

To Zintila she prayed for knowledge, for understanding. She wished to be as one among the mortals, without forsaking her ethereal form, and she desired knowledge above all else.

And, to Makath, the Eypharian prayed for the ability to detect truths, to collect secrets. All she sought was all she needed, and Makath was the Goddess of Shadows, the Goddess of the Whispered Word.

As her prayers finished, the Eypharian heard the sound of humming. Was someone composing a song for their deity? She turned her head and set her moss green eyes on a forlorn woman. The woman looked on the verge of tears, and the Eypharian inwardly chuckled. Something had gone wrong in her little mortal life. Maybe she could help? Maybe she could give comfort while taking secrets? What better way to see than to ask the mortal?

"Hello, miss." The Eypharian asked after a few moments of concentration. She had rarely found the need to speak to these people. "Is something the matter? Do you need help?" The Eypharian lifted her cloak and clasped it around her neck as she approached the woman, her eyes focused entirely on the mortal's.