6th Spring 513 AV
The Temple of All Gods
Early morningFrom ... Birthday
He took a deep breathe; weary of what he might say. Lindel had heard tales of prayers coming true, and because of that he knew very well the importance of his precision in prayer, the necessity to be humble, and the open mindedness to communicate on par with the divine who viewed the whole world in a way he couldn't imagine. He took a glimpse at the altar again, looking for that coin to gleam. He couldn't see it, but knew it was there somewhere in offering. What in the world would a God do with a miza?! No, stop it, just stop. It's a symbol. Now pray.
He started to mutter, in prayer, a request to Sylir – dead or alive – with a far-fetched hope that the God would show him mercy, knowledge, or something more to guide him. He was able to become a vessel for peace, but he needed to be shown the way. The call of knighthood had never struck him, and even now he was opposed to it somehow. There was something about them he never liked, a reputation and method he didn't agree with. There must be a way, without force, to bring peace.
"Sylir, Lord of Peace, for which this my home has been named, hear me. There is much I do not understand, and I seek answers. I implore you, hear me. What is peace? "
He stopped. As much as he wanted to go on in explanation, he was fearful what foolish babbling might get him. As broad a question as it might seem on the surface, there was a level of precision to it. Wasn't there?
"I mean, I know what peace means, but… I don't understand how it works. Would you please help me, Sylir, to understand why the knights must fight to keep peace? Why must anyone fight at all for peace?
"I'm so confused, Sylir. I don't know for certain that fate is all random as its made out to be, but I know I feel at the very least there is something I can do, that maybe I am meant to, to play my part. Please, help me understand, and show me to the way, and I swear upon my soul, I will follow the path to peace – whatever it may be, whatever trials I might face. The knights keep the peace still, so certainly you cannot be dead, so please, hear me, and show me."
Lindel began to lose himself in prayer, finding the comfort he was looking for, someone to hear him, even if it were seemingly fruitless efforts in that moment. What began as a plea for help became utter confessional, ranks seamlessly dropping between him and whatever received these prayers – fragments or conscious.
"It probably sounds silly to hear I don't know what I'm doing, even this prayer might be foolish. My mother is dead, my father gone, fathers more accurately, and now I'm just working to live in a castle where peace needs to be held by a gauntlet. I'm not sure I – no, I am sure, I don't want this. I can't want it, and I can't stand it for much longer. There is something lacking in this place and probably throughout the world needing to be, I don't know found or made. What am I saying? Peace, Sylir, I need to know what it means to be at peace. I need to know and understand what it is and why we are so without it. I don't mean to be so arrogant, but if it is something I can agree with, then I do swear my soul and loyalty to you solely. I don't know if I can forsake the pleasures I find in the realm of others, but my faith will rest solely with you. As the knights make their blades, take, break, burn, and forge their steel into weapons of actions, mold and wield me as you see fit. I cannot be so foolish as to say I am truly and fully yours at this one prayer, this strange prayer, but if I can then I will.
"I know the ways and workings of all Gods may be mysterious and sometimes unspoken, and I will do what I can to be open and receive you from whatever plane you come from. I will wait, Sylir, but please do not leave me without an answer by my life's end. You must hear this, all things say you must."
His fingers had wrapped over themselves and grasped into force-filled fists, an exercise of restraint for the boy's frustrations. Eyes shut, he had burrowed his forehead into his joint fists he prayed so devoutly. The light red mark from keeping his head down so long would last a few minutes. He had said what he needed to say though, and his thoughts had brought him that much closer to understanding whatever it was he sought after. How funny a thing that he might blindly chase after something based on a unfound feeling… How very funny, but that's faith, isn't it?
Lindel drew himself together, unaware of the mark on his head, and observed the Temple once more, noticing possibly a shift in bodies and people, the angle of the light. He had been there, just thinking, for a while more than he thought, maybe a bell. He had not heard anything. He checked the front again and saw his piece still in place. So much depended on that gold miza set at the front. And yet, despite all the tension in needing to wait possibly a life time for an answer, he did feel a wave of peace having been able to talk to someone who could hear him, in belief at least. He felt better having done something than nothing at all. Was that the answer he was after?
Lindel lowered his eyes to the floor and traced the length of the aisle back out of the temple into the castle halls to go about his daily business. He had glanced up, but once for a split second, looking for the priest. He knew he was sure to be looking, but hadn't the nerve to face him now. It was spring and beautiful, a time to heal and grow. |
Sometimes called Glav Navik, Sylir is the God of Peace and Civilization. Glav Navik has for the whole of his life been a student of religion. Having taken it upon himself to intensely study the Gods and their interactions with the world and each other, Glav is a bastion of knowledge in a somewhat chaotic life. He holds services every five days, and maintains the Temple of All Gods where folks can come, meditate, pray or even strike up a discussion with him. Glav is reported to have more gnosis marks than any current living person on Mizahar.
by Lindel Ward on April 21st, 2013, 6:51 am 