25 Days of TES Cheer #15 - Candle!
TLDR: After the events of Morrowind, Seran quietly lights a candle for his lost family.
Julan stood quietly in the doorway, unsure if Seran even knew he was there. They'd been distant for a while now, eyes glossed over as if they were somewhere else. They were quiet before, but they barely spoke anymore, since they left Mournhold Temple together, donned in the war masks of Ayem and Seht, baring the swords of Trueflame and Hopesfire. It still felt like a sin to hold Trueflame. Seran suited their divine sword much better than him. He supposed they always had.
They kneeled in the corner, knees protected by a thick brown mat, hovering over the small Waiting Door tucked into the corner. Julan watched them hold a trembling hand over the dark wood; whether the shakes were from nerves or pain, Julan couldn't tell. Maybe it was both.
After holding their hand over the Waiting Door, presumably reaching out for some kind of connection, they peered into the dark wood cupboards, selecting a large, wrapped beeswax candle, and a bundle of smaller, thin ones. Julan noted how dainty their golden fingers were; how thin they'd gotten. The loss of the tribunal had hit them hard.
"I'm sorry, mom." They whispered, voice barely higher than a breath. They placed the candles around the hearth, lighting them carefully with a match. Next they selected a stick of incense, lavender - Almalexia's favourite. They watched as the stick turned to a flickering glow, and Julan watched his face drop further into sadness. The small cabin they were staying in began to fill with the gentle aroma of the lavender, and Julan instantly realised why Seran had reacted in such a way; lavender was always burned in the temple. It smelled like their home.
Moving on from the lavender, Seran's hands continued to work with gentle fragility and care. They drew out a bushel of dried wisteria petals, lemongrass and sandalwood, placing them into the mortar and pestle - engraved with silver wisteria patterns, a gift from the Temple in Vvardenfell. Crushing the petals tenderly, they combined it with a dense charcoal disk, pouring the combination into a brass singing bowl. Music and sound was always Seht's favourite offering. Vehk and Ayem had preferred instruments, but simple singing bowls had been Seht's preference. They lit this blend, running the bowl's stick around it's rim, causing a pleasant ringing to travel through the shack, jostling the incense gently with the vibrations. This was a part of the mourning ritual Julan was accustomed with, for within ashlander tribes they also used singing bowls, much larger and louder, but still the same concept.
Julan walked into the room and kneeled beside Seran. They didn't speak, but they didn't need to. Julan would never feel the same loss in his heart that Seran had for the fall of the Tribunal, but he understood the pain.
They kneeled there in silence, watching the smoke dance in the air until it burned out.
