An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Chapters: 4/?
Word Count: 1,978
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Summary:
It's been many a century since the all Cathedral's corridors had been accounted for, that's the thing with old buildings, you never see all of them all at once.
So when the Sanctuary doors open, Father Allard is caught surprised by a young lady lacking the usual garments of the Sisters, kneeling before an unfamiliar sigil of Lua, Sol, and .. Terra? Touched by the Cardinal and with a despicable distaste for the Cathedral's inhabitants.
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Roathe rolled his eyes, turning and leaving Eithne to her devices. It was her right to be that way, and he would not offer help she clearly did not seek.
However, when the scent of burning…something, started coming from the Sanctuary, with Marie accusing him of being the cause, well. That simply wouldn't stand.
"I do believe the Terran, is up to some kind of unique heresey that disgusts even me," Roathe practically bitched to Lyon. "And I cannot stand Marie believing that it is I who smells quite that foul. I know to at least keep that mess to the Refractory."
Lyon did not look at Roathe, instead turning and headed to the Sanctuary to investigate on his own. For all her efforts to be respectful, was it possible she was committing a grievous sin? It was impossible to say, though approaching the doors, Lyon shuddered. Burning flesh, much like in Roathe's darkest memories, hovered by the door.
So when Lyon pulled open the doors, he considered whether or not he would see her charred corpse, or the corpse of some poor animal—
Eithne had tied back her hair, and was working cautiously with pale bones over an unfamiliar altar. She jumped, glancing back at Lyon and Roathe, standing in the doorway. With a flick of her hand, Eithne extinguished the small candles, and the smell ceased immediately. She stood, hiding the sizeable altar set-up. It was impossible to conceal the evidence of ground herbs and bones, of a mortar and pestle, and an open book carefully sat to one side, and the green candle set to the opposite.
"Apologies, I didn't hear you knock," Eithne shifted slightly, adjusting her weight on her feet. "Is there something I can assist you with?"
"You've been making this damned church stink worse than an incense I've seen Marie or Lyon burn," Roathe was quick to accuse Eithne, but seeing her cheeks turn pink, he thought himself justified. "You've got to quit it, it's disgusting, whatever you're doing."
"Ah, that's right, you lot use beeswax.. Unfortunately my ritual candles are all animal fats," Eithne shook her head. "I promise it'll be done sooner rather than later."
Lyon watched Eithne's movements, his eye narrowing.
"In what practice does it require you to use such foul candles?" Lyon questioned, "it befouls la Cathedral, we can find you better candles if that is all that is required."
"It's..not. The colored candles actually serve a purpose," Eithne's shoulders dropped with the heavy sigh that escaped her. "Though if it bothers you so greatly, white candles should be fine.."
Lyon's jaw tightened, and he shook his head. "That is not the question, what part of your faith requires this of you?" Lyon redoubled his efforts. He wanted to know, to understand. He had poured over the books on her faith, but it gave him little in the way of actually identifying the differences and more lectures on why it was so wrong. That didn't sit right with him, simply being told it was wrong instead of how or why Terra had been cut from the cloth of the the Luminaries.
Eithne blinked as Roathe scoffed.
"Why does it matter? We've gotten what we needed, hopefully that smell comes out of her clothes,"Roathe muttered, walking off.
It was just Eithne and Lyon now.
Eithne moved, walking around to the other side of the altar with a quiet solemnity Lyon had not expected from her.
"Blessings, born of Terra and the.. You call them the Luminaries," Eithne gestured to the altar. "A practice of care and well-wishes crafted usually in the light of one of the two Celestials." Eithne hesitated, watching Lyon's brow furrow. "One is for Sol's Peace, the other is Lua's Protection."
"And how do you go about asking for such blessings?" Lyon found himself asking as he scanned the open book, his expression softening slightly seeing the guidelines on how Eithne is to make, and seal, said blessing.
"Through meditation, prayer, the usual ways," Eithne hesitated, "And with an offering to each. Sol is not so hard to set up a consecrated offering for, it is Lua whom usually challenges me."
Lyon nodded, watching as Eithne struck a match against the hardened plating that sat just atop her wrist. The candle flame danced with some unknown breeze, and the match was quickly snuffed.
"And why are you making such.. blessings? Does something trouble you?" Eithne's gaze fell upon Lyon as she opened a leather pouch, a shimmering moonstone inside catching the light.
"For you and Marie," Eithne finally relented, "I worry for you both, thinking pain is a necessity to be blessed. To be welcomed by Lua and Sol as one of their children. This.. Will bring me some peace of mind that I have done what I can for you, in a manner that I hope would be kinder than how I was treated for also being different."
Lyon blinked, looking up at Eithne's expression. She meant it, that he did not doubt. The idea the Luminaries had bodies outside of the planetary, that is what went against the faith he had built. The Luminaries were untouchable, vast and beautiful as they were dreadful some days. To think they had blessings to be brought forward with some offerings in an exchange.. Though that was truly no different than asking the Luminaries for a blessing or peace by any other means, like disciplined pains, or the solemnity of prayers..
In fact, it may have been more sincere, given the resources and time simply required to incorporate the third, Terra, into the faith.
"It is…Kind of you, to think of us in such a manner." Lyon nodded slowly, his gaze returning to the altar, his brow furrowing again. "Marie will be pleased to see you thought of us."
"I would hope so," Eithne laughed a little, reaching for the mortar and pestle. She had set aside the moonstone, which seemed to bloom in color under the candlelight. "I have meant to apologize if I misspoke earlier. As much as it, worries, me to see others in pain, I must accept it is apart of your faith just as much as the burning of old bones and the scattering of ashes may be apart of mine."
"It would be more a concern if your faith had you worshipping spiders as Terra's greatest blessing," Lyon spoke without thinking, almost immediately regretting it, if not for the bright laughter it brought Eithne.
"By Lua no! Absolutely not," Eithne giggled, "While spiders are a friend to the planter, they are not by any means worshipped. They are friends, not Gods."
"Dieu merci," Lyon whispered, nodding along with Eithne's remark. There was a ghost of a smile on his face, though the grinding of herbs was a slightly grating sound.
"You.. don't like spiders do you?" Eithne glanced toward the small terracotta pots by the stained glass window.
"Non, I do not. All life under Sol is scared, but.." Lyon could not help how he shuddered, "I would not mind if spiders disappeared."
Eithne chuckled, nodding. "So, if I know where one is, don't tell you?"
Lyon blinked, looking toward the corner himself. He could see the spider silk in the dim lighting, and he shook his head.
"Do not tell me." Lyon looked to Eithne, "And, for the sake of my remaining sanity, do not allow it to wander the halls."
Eithne paused, looking Lyon over. Her brow furrowed, and her ministrations ceased. Lyon could sense the question on the tip of her tongue. "Remaining, what do you mean?" He watched, before she shook her head.
"Ah, so we share a plight then." Eithne teased, perhaps all too lightly. "Those migraines should have clued me in. The lights flashing, the heat of your robes, no wonder you retreat to the quieter halls." She was more careful in her motions, looking down and continuing to grind down the herbs, the sound quieter. "I imagine the pain is more grounding than I anticipated."
That was it, no asking what he meant, but an acceptance and assumption that the pain kept him centered. He blinked, watching as Eithne set down the mortar and pestle, before picking up the candle and dripping some of the hot wax into the ground herbs. Lyon watched as the scent of lavender and.. moonflower? Hit him, almost calming his nerves. For a moment, his mind was entirely quiet. Lyon's shoulders dropped, causing Eithne to look up with a smile.
"Smells better than the candle, huh?" Eithne offered for him to talk if he wanted. An invitation for perhaps the lowest stakes conversation they'd had to date.
But Lyon simply nodded, a subtle smile dawning across his face as she worked.
Lyon did not realize how long he had been watching Eithne, but she did not shoo him away, instead returning to her ritual and prayer in silence. Marie came up to investigate, worried that Lyon had come down with another megrim. To see Lyon, quietly watching Eithne work, and finding the sweet scent of lavender.. It warmed her heart to see him happy.
"Eithne, Lyon, whatever are you up to?" Marie made her presence known, and Eithne lit up.
"Ah! Marie, perfect timing, dear Sister," Eithne sounded so elated, setting down her materials, again brushing off her dress. This time Lyon noticed, the green stains on Eithne's fingertips, the knotwork patterns along the hems of her dress, the small patches done by hand and the layers in her skirt she had taken care to organize. Lyon looked to Marie.
Eithne lifted a small, Sol-patterned satchel, which was sealed shut with a golden color wax. It had the soft scent of lilac, and perhaps warmed sunflower oil. Eithne held out one hand to Marie.
Marie lifted her hand in turn, and Eithne gently pressed the golden satchel into her hand.
"From Sister to Sister, I offer a blessing-spell of Sol, for guidance and protection and peace. Whatever it may look like for you." Eithne carefully guided Marie's fingers to close over the satchel. "I.. Sincerely hope you like it.."
Marie blinked, opening her hand up as she looked at the satchel. She smiled, giggling, holding the satchel.
"The Blessing of Sol? In such a small satchel?" Marie questioned, rolling the satchel around in the palm of her hand. It was a sweet perfume, that was for certain, and there was a soft clicking as it moved in her hand.
"Yes, in such a small satchel, to keep and to hold, in case the days of prayer alone leave you feeling lonely." Eithne was quick to answer, "Think of it like a.. a different version of prayer beads,a way to ground oneself."
"It is a lovely thought," Marie giggled, looking to Lyon for direction. Lyon nodded, a soft smile on his face. Marie looked back at the satchel, the sigil of Sol beautifully woven into the shimmering fabric. "Merci, Eithne."
"Tá fáilte romhat, Marie," Eithne bowed her head for just a moment. Marie and Lyon blinked, looking to one another. Marie lit up even more, looking to Lyon. Lyon tilted his head, before turning to step out of the Sanctuary.
"You hear that? Such a beautiful sound!" Marie giggled, following Lyon. Lyon could not resist the small chuckle that escaped him, nodding to Marie.
"Oui, perhaps we were all just too quick to judge one another.." Lyon relented, stepping into the surge of the voices again, but feeling somewhat prepared for them. Their anger was no longer directed at her, if anything, there were whispers to learn more of her practice, to witness more. Not to practice it himself, of course not, that would be heretical, but…
Perhaps it was not Terra who at fault for being cast out of the Luminaries circle of worship.
I feel like I have been trained my whole life to be a ghost that is merely present.
I don’t want to be seen, I don’t want to be perceived, I don’t want nobody to hear nor acknoweledge me. I want to be there without really being there.
I wish I was a fly sometimes, I would be there but nobody would try to talk to me or try to establish a connection with me.
Growing up I learned that the less I am perceived, the less problems I would face and the less in danger I would be.
Being a grown up now this protection-mechanism sadly doesn’t serve me anymore and it still keeps me from being a ‘normal’ human being, humanizing through the world.
