Reflection and Celebration [Temple Of The Unknown solo]

[Xavior Silhouette]

Be thou faithful unto death, and I will give thee a crown of life. Winter 92 511 AV Xavior had found a pleasant area to create his nest at. The southern reaches served him well, secluded and away from the hustle and bustle of the city. It was perfect! The nights were quiet and the sky was on full display thanks to the smooth land. Trees leveled and made way for farmlands. Xavior had no idea what the crops were and figured that the winter frost discouraged any sort of agriculture endeavours. The sun slowly crept along the horizon as Xavior stepped out of his spacious canvas tent. The place he had called home was big enough to fit at least four people within it comfortably. The extra space was filled with storage. A few tools and sundry items were neatly stacked along the covered forest floor ready for Spring. But for now Xavior picked up two bottles of his favorite ales and put them in a pack. Tonight was special, it was the night of the full moon and Xavior stuck to his own personal tradition and intended to walk to the only holy building he could find in the forsaken city of Sunberth. He didn’t know much about the temple, but he was sure he could occupy a pew somewhere and enjoy a night of personal reflection of the past year and share it with his favorite man, Leth. Christy and Evan his adoptive family passed the tradition down to him. Celebrate the coming of Spring and come to the conclusion about what needs to be changed about a past life. Of course such a tradition would need absolute honesty, what better way to become honest then with alcohol? Xavior looked over his shoulder as he exited the tent. His large wings unfolded and stretched out from their tight position near his back. He gave a few flaps and caused the fabric of the tent to flutter. He did a quick check to make sure he had everything needed for the overnight stay at the at the temple before he flapped hard and lifted his feet off the ground. With each hard flap he grew higher and higher until he was off the ground. Soon he was over the trees below. He began to fly forward and toward the main city of Sunberth a journey he was familiar with. His wings caught a wind stream, which made flight much easier. The bottles jingled in his pouch with each flap until he began to glide. The journey progressed smoothly as the city began to grow larger and larger in his sight. The wind whistled in his ear as he flew past a flock of birds. He banked his wings to avoid a mass of feathers in his open mouth, “blasted vermin. They were coming right at me!” He evened out his flight once more, “something seems odd, aren’t they going the wrong direction?” Xavior pondered the thought for a moment before he dismissed it and began to make a dive toward the outskirts of the city. The sun soon vanished below the horizon and Xavior had landed just in time before his wings had transformed into the crown of horns wrapped around his head like a low halo. He took the time to change into his favorite leather pants and jacket. The jacket was a bit breezy as the cold wind rolled through the slit made by that man in the frenzied tavern. He remembered after that night to never return there. His hand still throbbed at random from the knife that had been driven through it. The wound had healed well, not to mention without a bit of help from the strange power he discovered that night. But that was not all he discovered that night. He had found his body had a low tolerance for the alcohol and knew that the two bottles of ale were more then enough to make him feel real good. He anticipated seeing pink lions. His travel through the city was rather tense. Night in this city always made him tense as he moved through the alleyways between tall buildings. It seemed the city was only a maze of alleys, one that one wrong turn could land you smack dab in the middle of an undesired situation. But as Xavior passed many a shady character he soon found himself in front of the cathedral that he sought. The building wasn’t anything like he was used to, though the night concealed most of its blemishes. Slowly he walked into the Cathedral and was met with a site he did not expect to see. The insides was in various states of disarray. The pews strewn about, some broken and discarded. Though the ones that were not broken were occupied by various squatters and homeless. The inside instead of a pleasant scent of oils and incense instead wore the cologne of musk, stink and uncaring. He danced around the mess as he moved further into the building. He looked up at the high ceilings and couldn’t help but feel they were more of a danger to those below then a sanctuary. “Well, isn’t this pleasant?” Xavior mouthed to himself as he found a place to sit next to what looked to be the alter. He felt dirt, or what he hoped was dirt, under his rump and decided to reach into his pack and find the bit of blanket he used to rest on. “Well it isn’t much, but it will do. It was once a place of worship, I’m sure it still has a bit of spirituality within it.” “Hey, get your petching hands off me!” A voice echoed off the walls. “Shut the petch up swine,” a loud oof was heard as the man who yelled was punched in the gut. Xavior watched as the man was robbed and then beaten to a pulp. Xavior eyed the man for a moment as he moaned in pain. Such displays were not unusual and normally Xavior would ignore it. Whether it was his happy spirits or just a random feeling of empathy he stood up and walked toward the man. He took his bag with him as he walked toward the downed man. A twinge in the back of his mind told him to look back. When he did, he found that his blanket had been snatched up by someone within the room. He sighed and then knelt next to the man. Whoever stole the blanket probably needed it more than himself. He focused a bit of his energy onto the palm of his hand. It still tingled and burned slightly from the episode of overgiving as he touched it to the man’s body. “Are you alright?” He paused, then continued, “my name is Xavior,” he pronounced his name all in one syllable. He hoped that his djed suggestion of comfort and calming would help sway the man to seeing him as not a threat. The man flinched and kicked away from Xavior before he whimpered in pain. Xavior sighed and decided to plop down next to the broken man only after a thorough checking of the floor. He could smell piss in the air. The back of his horns taped into the wood of a broken pew as he sighed and began to focus on his magic. “Tsk, I came here to celebrate,” Xavior punctuated the word celebrate with a bought of suggestion, “but instead find myself once again helping a man.” Xavior looked over at the man as he breathed deeply. Xavior’s tongue tingled slightly as he moved to retrieve his bag. He was sure to move it quietly, he had about twenty gold on his person. The rest he kept buried in the grown within his tent for safety. He retrieved one of the bottles of ales and uncorked it before he took a swig. The man finally sat up and leaned against the pew next to Xavior. Both of their eyes met and Xavior used that moment to elicit an emotional response. “Do you mind sharing that with an old man?” The voice was rough with age, but it had a tone of confidence and wisdom built only from years of hard life. A beggar who seemed to have had it all at one point in time. “Sure, help yourself, it’s always best to spend this time with company.” Xavior handed the dirty older man his second bottle of ale. “What is great about this time to spend it with company?” The man asked pointedly, “you aren’t the religious type are you?” The man took the bottle from Xavior and uncorked it quickly before he took a swig. Xavior stared for a moment unsure on how to answer, “I...yes I am.” Xavior sputtered out ready to defend himself if needed. The man snorted a bit and wiped some ale that had worked its way up through his nose and onto his mustache. The man swallowed, the anticipation mounted as Xavior sat silently. “Tsk, such honesty will get you killed kid.” The man calmed and took another swig of ale. Xavior did the same and swallowed the sweet with a bitter finish liquid. “But it is nice to see someone who still has something they believe in around here.” Xavior’s posture softened as he felt he was in the clear, “I ask again, what is this time of celebration with drink?” Xavior grinned. He spoke softly, “I’m celebrating a renewing of my year. Tonight is near the end of the cold winter. With the melting of the ice, the things I want to change about my life melt with it. Sort of just a self analysis.” The man nodded and took another swig. Already Xavior could feel his skin grow warm and flush. “What sort of god do you worship?” “A truly great one,” Xavior replied with little hesitation. The man grunted, “I used to pray to a god as well. But when it didn’t seem like he had answered my prayers I grew away from him.” Xavior nodded this time, “who?” “Kelwyn. I lost my home and family on a bet,” the man admitted. “Kelwyn? Who is that?.” Xavior sat back and took another swig. He drank much slower then the older man, yet his long almost song like accent began to grow thicker. “Kel and Wyn are the god and goddess of lost causes. But it would seem they’ve answered my pleas with tragedy.” The man’s dirty fair skin began to show signs of life as they grew red. “Oh I’m sorry, you don’t have to say any more.” Xavior nodded as he suppressed his curiosity. “Though I will say, maybe you were asking the wrong gods.” Xavior sipped again already feeling the effects of the ale. “The one I love and worship, has treated me well. True, there were some rocky moments however I’m still here sitting next to a broken man--” “I’m not broken!” The man turned and glared at Xavior. A sudden wash of calmness washed over the man’s body once more brought on by Xavior, “I’m just out of luck.” “I didn’t mean to offend,” he looked around the hall and noticed the outburst had caused some of the squatters to look over. Xavior sighed and looked around at those who stared at him. When those who met his gaze, they had a feeling that everything was going to be alright wash over their paranoid brains. “You know, sometimes those we worship answer our prayers in strange ways.”