Yaotl wrote:Spring 5th, 512 AV
Just four days ago, the Temple of the Black Sun had fractured. The storm that roused the city on the anniversary of the Valterrian had caused unspeakable damage to the Temple and to the morale of the men and women that thought Rhysol had abandoned them to suffer. Yaotl considered the mess being tended to by still faithful citizens with an air of boredom. In her opinion, they wouldn't be able to salvage the main part of the church and their energies would be better directed at somehow improving themselves so this wouldn't happen to them again. If Rhysol wanted the holiest of artifacts buried beneath rubble, then who were mere mortals to try to dig it out?
Unless, of course, he wanted them to.
And that would have to be the greatest question of all the questions Yaotl could come up with at that moment. Rhysol was the lord of a dominion that could not be judged by a fixed set of standards. He was chaos, and trying to figure out what he was truly going for when he decided to destroy his main center of worship without warning was beyond her ability to comprehend.
Her green eyes skittered over labouring backs as the woman walked through their ranks, not lifting a finger to help them. Perhaps that could be seen as disloyal to Rhysol, perhaps not. She wasn't stupid enough to work her ass off on something that would probably take the season to clear. It wouldn't do good for her to see her work meant nothing if the pillar had shattered.
Yaotl wasn't sure exactly where she could go to offer a prayer and a question to Rhysol. She hadnt been present when the Temple snapped under the pressure of the storm, so she didn't know if the alcoves had caved in. She couldnt put her trust into the stability of a balcony or a convenient unlocked door. She could only skirt the men, women and children as she sharked for an alcove that didn't have water or rubble clogging it.
She found one, probably the first of a few more, and approved of its relative cleanliness. It wasn't like Parah was here to wash the thing, so she could bear with it for now.
The alcove was as ornate as the Temple, and open. She face a looming pile of debris on one side and the other opened to the hall she just left. Dark wine seats, black marble floor, and ornate designs on the marble walls. Yaotl liked this one room more than she liked her own apartment.
With a sigh, Yaotl purged her mind of thought. It wasn't always easy to do so. There was usually a strain of haunting music, her anger directed at some trivial thing, whether it was the mess Parah left around every day, the dog being a stupid yappy little thing, or the weather being unpleasant. She took a few deep breaths to calm those thoughts away for now, folding them away to be pondered later. She never liked to pray to Rhysol in a temper. Krysus, yes. Rhysol, no. That god seemed to have some use for people not always in a rage.
Green eyes focused on intertwined fingers as Yaotl opened her mind, hoping to hear some small whisper of voice not hers for once. She didn't close her eyes, what was the point? She didn't speak either though, preferring to keep her question to herself in case the answer wasn't allowed to be heard.
Rhysol, she began, I am here to day for you, as I have been here for you in thought for a long time now. You were there in Nyka to be my salvation when my family no longer took notice of me, and you were there as I walked Sylira to find my home in your city. I am here for you now, here to be used by you for whatever need you have. I would give you my life, the life of my children, and the life of my parents and brothers. Would you give me this honour and answer one question?
Yaotl paused as the people outside started on eachother about who worked longest and hardest. Straining not to roll her eyes just yet, she returned to her thoughts.
What happened?
Her green eyes blinked lazily as the thought resounded in her head, clanging with an unholy fervor as though some kid were wailing on a gong. Others were asking 'why did it happen' or 'where are you', and while those questions were good to ask, Yaotl would try her luck in a different direction.
Rhysol, perhaps my service to you has not been the best you have received, but after the event on the anniversary of your triumph, I have been willing to prove that it is to you I hold the most faith. I would like to prove myself as a member of your devout followers. I wish to join the Black Sun.
She then fell to silence, her mind wide open for any whisper of chaos from the lord of Ravok. |
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The Temple was in shambles. It would be seasons before it was fully rebuilt, but still the devoted Ravokians tried as fast as they could. They needed their temple, their connection to Rhysol. The Black Shard, the artifact that the city of Ravok was founded upon, was obscured from view, covered under rubble. Many of the the Black Sun had been killed, and many more citizens with them, and the amount of people trapped in the underwater depths were unkown.
Ematho rarely left his home in the The Black Hole, but with most of his dungeon flooded the mysterious Druvin had nowhere to go and nothing to do. So few even knew of his existence, though his nature was obvious if one looked at his face. Only the Druvin bore the third mark of Rhysol, the twin eyes of white that saw more than normal eyes could see. Ematho wandered among the faithful, watching as they tried to fix what had been damaged.
The Druvin knew not why his lord had chosen to destroy the temple, to allow the massive storm to hit Ravok. His mistress, the Voice, the one person who might have shed some light on what had happened was nowhere to be found. Perhaps she too was trapped beneath the rubble, though Ematho doubted such a thing would contain her for more than a chime. The orders of Rhysol had chosen to keep her absence a secret, but how long could they maintain such a charade if she did not return? Ematho did not know.
Everyone was working to rebuild.. or almost everyone. Ematho stopped when he saw a lone woman, beautiful and finely dressed. The fact that she was praying was not so odd, many people would stop to pray now and then. It was the whisper. So long he had been beneath the waters, Ematho had brought few into the fold. But he knew the whisper when he heard it, Rhysol's answer to the prayers of the faithful. The chosen. This woman, she had a chance, and Rhysol was letting him know. Of course the Defiler would not speak to her directly, he never did, but Ematho knew that he must speak to her for him. The Druvin approached, moving silent even in his heavy armor, and Yaotl would not know he was their until a gloved hand fell on her shoulder.
"What do you seek, child?" |
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