[When Sorey had told Alisha days ago that he didn't know how to pray, he hadn't been kidding; he'd seen examples of it back home, of course, all kinds. Parents praying for the seraphim to heal their sick children. Corrupt priests encouraging parishioners to give more and ask for less. Morgrim had said once that she didn't know if receiving prayers and answering prayers was the right thing to do; that if it was just a matter of exchanging prayers for blessing, then nothing would ever change.
The relationship between humans and seraphim had never felt so great as it did in that small, unremarkable moment.
As Sorey kneels in front of Eizen's coin, the possessor of the vessel just behind him, looking over the items within the altar, Sorey reflects on what he can do. Mikleo hated the idea of Sorey praying to the little snowglobe as if it were a representation of him; that's part of why he wanted Sorey to keep it, because he felt comfortably removed from its image. They hadn't had any arguments about it since that huge one right after Mikleo forgave him, but Sorey knew Mikleo still thought about it, just as he did, from time to time.
The gap between seraphim and humans. One, natural inhabitants of the world, elements personified, but still beings separate from it and each other with their own thoughts and hearts and dreams. Eizen, an earth malak who sailed with humans across all the seas, was proof enough of the individuality of seraphim, and the complete opposite of those who wished to remain aloof from the world's problems as if they didn't live in it.
And humans; short-lived, sometimes even shorter-sighted, selfish but passionate, driven, peaceful if given the chance but so easily corrupted. Some Shepherds in the past even came to think of humans as a plague upon the world, their race poisoning the ground beneath their feet and giving rise to daemons and hellions across thousands of years in a cycle neverending. Self-loathing had driven those Shepherds to their ruin, as it had led Sorey to his own, and part of him wonders if that will ever change.
Sorey glances back at Eizen. He'd brought down a Shepherd, one of the first, and had eaten a Lord of Calamity. In the end, he'd been warped and twisted into a horrible figure, and Zaveid and Edna had put him into his grave, with Sorey's help.
He turns back to the coin and bows his head again.
He prays for peace, for adventure, for family. He prays for courage and wellness, and he prays for a release from heartache. With the image of Eizen fixed firmly in his mind, broad shoulders, eyes sharp as his sister's, Sorey piles unto his vessel prayers for his safety, and for his own determination to see Eizen through it, however he must. He promises to Eizen's vessel that he will protect his precious people, his sister and his friends, with every shred of his soul.
And when Sorey finishes he looks up, picks up the coin, and hands it back to Eizen to close Eizen's hands around it, and his own around Eizen's (as best he can), bowing his head over their hands both.]
As Shepherd, a servant to humans and seraphim alike, I offer these prayers to you, Lord Eizen. May they serve you well and strengthen your heart.
no subject
The relationship between humans and seraphim had never felt so great as it did in that small, unremarkable moment.
As Sorey kneels in front of Eizen's coin, the possessor of the vessel just behind him, looking over the items within the altar, Sorey reflects on what he can do. Mikleo hated the idea of Sorey praying to the little snowglobe as if it were a representation of him; that's part of why he wanted Sorey to keep it, because he felt comfortably removed from its image. They hadn't had any arguments about it since that huge one right after Mikleo forgave him, but Sorey knew Mikleo still thought about it, just as he did, from time to time.
The gap between seraphim and humans. One, natural inhabitants of the world, elements personified, but still beings separate from it and each other with their own thoughts and hearts and dreams. Eizen, an earth malak who sailed with humans across all the seas, was proof enough of the individuality of seraphim, and the complete opposite of those who wished to remain aloof from the world's problems as if they didn't live in it.
And humans; short-lived, sometimes even shorter-sighted, selfish but passionate, driven, peaceful if given the chance but so easily corrupted. Some Shepherds in the past even came to think of humans as a plague upon the world, their race poisoning the ground beneath their feet and giving rise to daemons and hellions across thousands of years in a cycle neverending. Self-loathing had driven those Shepherds to their ruin, as it had led Sorey to his own, and part of him wonders if that will ever change.
Sorey glances back at Eizen. He'd brought down a Shepherd, one of the first, and had eaten a Lord of Calamity. In the end, he'd been warped and twisted into a horrible figure, and Zaveid and Edna had put him into his grave, with Sorey's help.
He turns back to the coin and bows his head again.
He prays for peace, for adventure, for family. He prays for courage and wellness, and he prays for a release from heartache. With the image of Eizen fixed firmly in his mind, broad shoulders, eyes sharp as his sister's, Sorey piles unto his vessel prayers for his safety, and for his own determination to see Eizen through it, however he must. He promises to Eizen's vessel that he will protect his precious people, his sister and his friends, with every shred of his soul.
And when Sorey finishes he looks up, picks up the coin, and hands it back to Eizen to close Eizen's hands around it, and his own around Eizen's (as best he can), bowing his head over their hands both.]
As Shepherd, a servant to humans and seraphim alike, I offer these prayers to you, Lord Eizen. May they serve you well and strengthen your heart.