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Post by Myrion on Feb 25, 2010 22:45:23 GMT -5
MYRION
Myrion clasped the palms of his hands together and closed his silver eyes. Ice blue hair fell into his face as he bowed his head and whispered a long string of words in a long-forgotten language. Forgotten, by all those who were not seers. Long blue eyelashes flickered as Myrion whispered his strange, sacred words. He touched his fingers to his forehead gently then opened his eyes. A large statue of a great robed man stood in front of him, etched in marble. Mraz.
Myrion smiled and glanced down at the temple floor where a small white kitten lay at his feet. Cats loved this temple, his temple. There were many here, all rescued strays, healed and strengthened by the kindness of the seer. He always had a soft spot for cats. Many Frost followers suspected him of caring more for his felines then his human patients. Perhaps it was true. Myrion put his hand down and let the little kitten rub against his fingers. It purred loudly and narrowed green eyes at him affectionately.
The seer stood, disappointing the white cat. He shook out his blue hair and looked around the dimly lit temple. A few other worshippers sat in the pews, heads bowed and lips moving gently. Myrion smiled at the devote members of the Order of Frost before making his way out into the summer morning. There was no snow, but it was still cold. It was never very warm in Ryma despite its proximity to the Land of Flame. Myrion brought his fur coat closer to his body and stuffed his hands into pockets before proceeding down the sunny street. A cat trailed behind him, this one a yellow tabby. Myrion grinned, he was never without at least one feline follower.
The seer made his way to the local store. He went up to the grocer and requested his daily food of rice and carrots. Myrion never ate much; in fact he ate too little for a grown man. But it was part of being a holy man. He indulged in none of the vices other men of Ysera did. Myion was a seer; he was above all of that. With a bow to the grocer, he took his food and departed. The pale man sat on a stone bench along the grey street. He munched on the carrot while holding his little bag of rice, watching the procession of his people. And, of course, his cats.
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Post by Zeirelle on Feb 26, 2010 17:37:42 GMT -5
“Sometimes I forget you worship a different god.”
Kess looked concerned, glancing down at the young woman lying comfortably across her lap. She pushed a strand of blue-tipped white hair out of the two-colored eyes. “That isn’t a problem, is it? She might fight against Mraz in the heavens, but Laska is not your enemy. She’s our creator: strong, compassionate, warm.” Her brow furrowed, uncharacteristic for her normally carefree face, until a pale hand reached up to touch her cheek. She accepted the kiss and smiled faintly.
“So are you,” Zeirelle pointed out, forcing a grin onto her lips. “I suppose it isn’t a problem. It’s just … against what I’ve learned. I’m devoted to Mraz, and it’s hard to connect with someone he fights.”
The slighter girl scooted out from under Zeir and stood up off the bench, watching some others walk by, the wind catching their silk clothes. She avoided the disappointed face of her love and glanced instead up at the sky, where the clouds were ribbed with a fiery light in the frosty air.
“The Frost Order fights against mine,” she whispered, “and you have no problem connecting with me. Am I not the enemy?”
***
Zeirelle closed her eyes and bowed her head forward, resting it against the hands that clasped the bench seat in front of her. She whispered a quiet prayer, asking for strength like she did every day she was in the temple area. She had not mastered the language of the seers, as a mere apothecary, but even the mundane common language was layered with passion as she spoke to her god.
Due to roaming the lands of Frost for the past few days, she hadn’t gotten much of a chance to visit such a religious place. It was therefore a relief to come here, to cast some of her memories into the back of her mind where they would not plague her. Mraz comforted her in a way that no living mortal could, because she knew that he would look over her and the other loyal worshipers of Frost.
Relaxing taut shoulders, the woman leaned back into the seat and, a few moments later, rose to her feet to walk down the aisle of the temple. She still needed to make sure the herbs and medicines she might require were still in stock while she had the time, the lull in fighting. However, as she stepped onto the path, something furry twined around her legs and caused her to stumble. The grey tabby shot out from under her with a loud meow of protest and scurried to the large temple doors, which she threw open impatiently.
Her feline acquaintance gravitated back to her legs once he knew she wasn’t going to topple over and continued to rub against her, tail coiling and eyes half-closed in the sunlight. “Isn’t there someone else you should bother?” she demanded gently of the tomcat. She was used to seeing all the animals running around the temple, mostly because of the seer that dwelled near there. “Find Myrion,” she suggested when she nearly tripped over him again, causing her to have to grasp a passerby to keep her balance. Ignoring the amused look shot at her, she sighed and reached down to sweep the cat up in her arms.
“Make up your damn mind,” Zeir ordered when the wiry creature squirmed to get out of her grasp. When the struggling became too much, she resignedly deposited him on a bench and then realized the occupant of it.
“Seer Myrion,” she greeted with a quick, broad grin. “I offer you one of your fleabags; you’ll have better luck with him than I did.” She ruffled the grey cat’s ears affectionately as she referred to him and took a seat at the edge of the stone bench, allowing the tabby room as he stretched out, sphinx like. |
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Post by Myrion on Feb 28, 2010 1:03:00 GMT -5
MYRION
Myrion made quite an interesting site, completely exemplifying the “crazy seer” image as he sat on a bench munching on a carrot with a small flock of cats appearing around him. Yes, crazy seer did seem quite fitting. However wise and skilled Myrion might be, there was a certain edge of weirdness about him. The cats definitely contributed to that effect.
He grinned slightly and looked up at the rising sun. Blue hair fell into his face but he hardly noticed, he was too busy enjoying the beauty and warmth of the day. He wore light robes on a day like today, without their typical rabbit-fur lining. It was about as warm as it would ever get in the Land of Frost, however, and soon the sun would remain in the sky for only a couple of hours each day and the air would be tinged with frost. The Frost winter was nearly endless.
Myrion raised the hand that held the carrot to shield his silver eyes as someone greeted him. It was an apothecary. What was her name…? He looked at her blankly, before it came to him. Zeirelle! Yes, that was it. “Good morning, Zeirelle. It’s a lovely day, don’t you think?” Cheer radiated from the seer as he spoke with his fellow healer. It was too much for some people; he didn’t know Zeir well enough to know if she’d be one of those people.
Myrion laughed at her comment about the cat she had deposited upon the bench. The seer reached out to pet the tomcat’s long, stretched out body. “Don’t take it personally. I have better luck than everyone with cats,” he said with another grin and stroked the cat’s fur. “So what are you doing today, Zeirelle?” he asked as he watched the grey cat wash itself behind the ears.
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