16th of Summer
Splash.. Plop.. Plop..
Were the sounds heard, echoing in the central chamber of the temple as Dovinya went about scrubbing the floor clean of a patch of quickly drying blood. A particularly distracted worshiper had cut their palm too deep, and in their surprise left quite a mess around the central altar, which was why Dovinya found himself there that day, working at the blood caked on the floor with a plain scrap of cloth. Not that he minded too much, he was more relieved that the man hadn’t hurt himself majorly than at having to clean up after him, and it wasn’t exactly such an uncommon thing for a devout to get a little blood on the floor around the altar.
He actually relished task oriented jobs like this for they gave him reprieve from the tumultuous emotions that stirred within him. Submerging himself into his work helped him forget, at least briefly, the terrible events of the past seasons, and even allowed him to feel almost normal.
Working the caked dried blood from the floor was not terribly complicated, it separated easily from the worked stone, and from there it was simply a matter of ringing out the washcloth in the small half filled clay jar he’d brought back from the personal quarters of the temple’s attendants. Drying up the water he’d spilt across the floor proved to be more time consuming than ridding the floor of blood, though he made quick work of that as well.
“Dovinya?” He heard a familiar voice say not far off behind him.
Were the sounds heard, echoing in the central chamber of the temple as Dovinya went about scrubbing the floor clean of a patch of quickly drying blood. A particularly distracted worshiper had cut their palm too deep, and in their surprise left quite a mess around the central altar, which was why Dovinya found himself there that day, working at the blood caked on the floor with a plain scrap of cloth. Not that he minded too much, he was more relieved that the man hadn’t hurt himself majorly than at having to clean up after him, and it wasn’t exactly such an uncommon thing for a devout to get a little blood on the floor around the altar.
He actually relished task oriented jobs like this for they gave him reprieve from the tumultuous emotions that stirred within him. Submerging himself into his work helped him forget, at least briefly, the terrible events of the past seasons, and even allowed him to feel almost normal.
Working the caked dried blood from the floor was not terribly complicated, it separated easily from the worked stone, and from there it was simply a matter of ringing out the washcloth in the small half filled clay jar he’d brought back from the personal quarters of the temple’s attendants. Drying up the water he’d spilt across the floor proved to be more time consuming than ridding the floor of blood, though he made quick work of that as well.
“Dovinya?” He heard a familiar voice say not far off behind him.