The temple stands tall, taller than nearly all the buildings in the city with its intricately-carved ivory spires. Only the Hall of Noble Voices stands higher and more bold against the skyline. Honestly, it’s kind of peaceful here—quiet, contemplative. Maybe that’s why you take your leave days here, in spite of Bitty.
It hasn’t always been an Immaculate temple; some ages ago, it was a temple to Yesryk, the patron god of the region, and you stop before their statue. You don’t pray; you’re not supposed to, after all. The Immaculates take care of giving each god their due and no more. Still, it’s always seemed a little lonely to you, so in lieu of seeking out your brother you sit on one of the stone benches, enjoying the quiet.
But it’s not long after that there’s the soft sound of slippers on stone, and a familiar grumble. “What the hell are you doing here, *******?” Bitty says, coming to stand next to you. “Don’t tell me you want family time.”
You give a one-shouldered shrug. “This is probably the last leave I’m going to get in a while, and—I don’t really have a good place to spend it, anyway. Mother’s much too busy, and—“
And Lark’s gone.
“And, well. You didn’t have to come see me.”
He crosses his arms and looks away. “Honorable Ascendant Crane’s really pushing for war, isn’t she.”
“You don’t think it’s a good idea? With Ryuken’s incursions—”
“Ugh.” He turns on the ball of his foot, his junior monk’s robes swirling around him. “Just because you made officer—honestly, you being an officer is a sign we really shouldn’t be going to war, and you know it.”
“I’m—trying.”
“When have you ever tried in your entire life, *******? Taking the path of least resistance isn’t trying, but, hey, it got you everything, so why argue with that?”
You sit very still, hands in your lap, waiting for him to get it out of his system, but he stalks over and grabs you by the lapels, hauling you up off the bench—you’re so surprised that you don’t even resist. “I, I didn’t mean to—what could I have done, Bitty—“
“Fuck off, *******. You could have done literally anything, but here we are, aren’t we? You’re always going to be a disappointment, and I’m always going to be nothing, all because you’re too coward to change anything.” He looks like he’s not sure what he wants to do—if he wants to throw a punch, or walk away.
His consideration is cut short, though, by the click of heeled boots across the stone floor. “Guarded Bittern,” says a smooth, serene voice—a voice you’ve heard before, in fact. “Could you see to preparing tomorrow’s offerings?”
A woman in senior monk’s robes—Ascendant Crane, one of the highest authorities in the temple. You’d seen her speak before, and she was a commanding presence then; your brother, wordlessly, lets you down, after a moment of hesitation, and you stumble back against the bench. He gives you a look, like this isn’t over, but steps back, and walks off without argument.
You’re a little surprised when Ascendant Crane walks over to you, though, with a soft smile. “It’s *******, isn’t it?” she says, and you’re surprised she would even know, much less have remembered. “My apologies for his behavior.”
You shake your head. “It’s, um—an old argument,” you say. “He has a right to be angry.”
“I think he’s wrong, though,” she says, putting a hand on your shoulder. “I’ve heard you’re making very good progress with your unit. It’s a difficult task you’ve been put to, but don’t give up on your potential. You have important skills for your position—even if they’re not the ones you’ve been told to prioritize.”
“Oh, um.” You don’t even know what to say to that. “Th… thank you. I, ah…” You shouldn’t argue with her, and—honestly, she has such a soothing presence, you don’t really want to. “It’s an honor, to hear you say that?”
“It’s the truth.” She pats your shoulder. “I’ve business to attend to, but I hope the rest of your visit will be peaceful. And, too, the days to come.”
You nod, and watch her walk away; somehow, you feel better, in spite of everything.
Notable:
Dark-haired, tan-skinned Shrike this time; she's probably about twenty. Somewhere after Memory 17?
Her brother's name is apparently Guarded Bittern, which explains the nickname "Bitty."
Apparently things are going better for her in the military? But also it seems like war is on the horizon.
They are maybe at war, or close to it, with a neighboring nation called Ryuken.
Ascendant Crane seems to be... very convincing? Maybe weirdly so?
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
softlyfalling) wrote2019-01-24 12:53 am
memory 018
It hasn’t always been an Immaculate temple; some ages ago, it was a temple to Yesryk, the patron god of the region, and you stop before their statue. You don’t pray; you’re not supposed to, after all. The Immaculates take care of giving each god their due and no more. Still, it’s always seemed a little lonely to you, so in lieu of seeking out your brother you sit on one of the stone benches, enjoying the quiet.
But it’s not long after that there’s the soft sound of slippers on stone, and a familiar grumble. “What the hell are you doing here, *******?” Bitty says, coming to stand next to you. “Don’t tell me you want family time.”
You give a one-shouldered shrug. “This is probably the last leave I’m going to get in a while, and—I don’t really have a good place to spend it, anyway. Mother’s much too busy, and—“
And Lark’s gone.
“And, well. You didn’t have to come see me.”
He crosses his arms and looks away. “Honorable Ascendant Crane’s really pushing for war, isn’t she.”
“You don’t think it’s a good idea? With Ryuken’s incursions—”
“Ugh.” He turns on the ball of his foot, his junior monk’s robes swirling around him. “Just because you made officer—honestly, you being an officer is a sign we really shouldn’t be going to war, and you know it.”
“I’m—trying.”
“When have you ever tried in your entire life, *******? Taking the path of least resistance isn’t trying, but, hey, it got you everything, so why argue with that?”
You sit very still, hands in your lap, waiting for him to get it out of his system, but he stalks over and grabs you by the lapels, hauling you up off the bench—you’re so surprised that you don’t even resist. “I, I didn’t mean to—what could I have done, Bitty—“
“Fuck off, *******. You could have done literally anything, but here we are, aren’t we? You’re always going to be a disappointment, and I’m always going to be nothing, all because you’re too coward to change anything.” He looks like he’s not sure what he wants to do—if he wants to throw a punch, or walk away.
His consideration is cut short, though, by the click of heeled boots across the stone floor. “Guarded Bittern,” says a smooth, serene voice—a voice you’ve heard before, in fact. “Could you see to preparing tomorrow’s offerings?”
A woman in senior monk’s robes—Ascendant Crane, one of the highest authorities in the temple. You’d seen her speak before, and she was a commanding presence then; your brother, wordlessly, lets you down, after a moment of hesitation, and you stumble back against the bench. He gives you a look, like this isn’t over, but steps back, and walks off without argument.
You’re a little surprised when Ascendant Crane walks over to you, though, with a soft smile. “It’s *******, isn’t it?” she says, and you’re surprised she would even know, much less have remembered. “My apologies for his behavior.”
You shake your head. “It’s, um—an old argument,” you say. “He has a right to be angry.”
“I think he’s wrong, though,” she says, putting a hand on your shoulder. “I’ve heard you’re making very good progress with your unit. It’s a difficult task you’ve been put to, but don’t give up on your potential. You have important skills for your position—even if they’re not the ones you’ve been told to prioritize.”
“Oh, um.” You don’t even know what to say to that. “Th… thank you. I, ah…” You shouldn’t argue with her, and—honestly, she has such a soothing presence, you don’t really want to. “It’s an honor, to hear you say that?”
“It’s the truth.” She pats your shoulder. “I’ve business to attend to, but I hope the rest of your visit will be peaceful. And, too, the days to come.”
You nod, and watch her walk away; somehow, you feel better, in spite of everything.
Notable: