For the Love of a Goddess (MilitairyWalker X LeatrixSage)

[LeatrixSage]

Sands as smooth as silk and pale as milk were warm beneath her bare feet. The cool breeze that came in with the gentle waves along the shore kissed the sweat from her skin as she walked. A pair of plane and tattered sandals were hung about her hips, their shape lost beneath the many loose folds of thin fabric that clung to her damp skin. Even when wearing cloth that was nearly transparent, it did not breath enough to keep her from sweating. The only thing better would have been to rush into the crystal-clear, blue waters naked and go for a swim. Senua smiled at the thought. That was all she needed, for a stray fisherman or villager to find her swimming about in the ocean like a wanton nymph. She’d lose her position in the temple before the day had ended.

Being a priestess of the Merciful Goddess came with certain restrictions, and responsibilities, but Senua found joy in serving the small fishing village that had become her home. She was their physical embodiment of Inanna, their midwife, their doctor, their religious leader, their judge, and their councilor. She married young people, past sentencing on the accused, blessed new homes, mended broken bones, and prepared medicine for the sick. She had spent her entire life learning to be a Matriarch, and yet Senua was much younger than those that usually served in such a position of freedom and prestige. Granted, it wasn’t strictly her skill and ability that had won her the unique opportunity, but also the fact that her elders didn’t want to be tucked away on a remote coastal island with nothing more than fishing villages.

While they could never be wives, mothers, or lovers, many of her sisters preferred the rich life of major cities – centers of learning and philosophy – to offer their skills. The temples of Inanna thrived in such places, and so did her virgin vessels that channeled her power and authority to better the lives and communities they lived in. Senua, however, had never had much love for the crowded streets and packed ghettos. She would much rather enjoy the fresh air, the salty sea spray, and the quite and polite nature of the sparse villagers that lived there.

The temple that stood on the island was both light house and a place of worship, as well as Senua’s home. Senua crossed a short sand bar from the beach out into the ocean to reach the structure, a path that would vanish in high tide. The main body of the stone and marble structure was typical, the same as any other temple of Inanna, but a widening and rocky path led up from the sandbar up the steep outcropping of sun-bleached stone to the towering columns and domed ceilings. Within was cool shade and many massive arche ways that allowed the ocean breeze to swirl unimpeded around the circular room. At its center stood a statue of a woman without a face, she was dressed as a matriarch, but was left featureless to represent all of Inanna’s many vessels and servants. At her feet was an alter that was covered in a white cloth and set with a dish of abalone that Senua filled with fresh water every morning, and wine every night.

A long, shallow, circular stair led up from the wide floor and into the upper level of the dome where a small catwalk circled the entire building. It was a private place for prayer and study that led to access to a short bridge that ended at towering lighthouse, built on the highest point of the outcrop island. The lower level was Senua’s modest home, and the tower was an exhaustively tall spiraling stair that led to a pyre. While she lit the pyre at dusk every night, the villagers brought her wood and oil every morning so that she did not need to chop the wood herself.

The day before she had found something unusual on the beach. Even as she walked along it now, there was still debris scattered everywhere. Broken bits of wood mostly, broken pottery, even bits of metal from barrels had been found. But, what had been unique, was the battered man that had been laid out over the black, volcanic rocks at the southern end of the beach. She’d found him late in the evening on her way out to mend a child’s broken arm. Gestipo, the little girl’s father, had helped her retrieve the man and carried him to the temple while she’d patched up his little girl. He hadn’t been comfortable with cleaning the man up for her, nor was he willing to stay after nightfall to watch her do it to verify her chaste behavior. So she had been forced to leave him in his rotten and fouled clothing, able only to keep him warm and hope that he woke soon. He’d been running a fever, it still hadn’t broken that morning, and she doubted that it had gotten better while she had been away.

She found him still resting on mat on the floor in a small prayer room below the temple main. It was a place of meditation but had served as a room for his rest. She’d covered him in woven blankets to ward off his shaking, and she’d gotten a little bit of cool water down his throat a time or two, but if he did not wake soon, Senua feared her might not make it. She’d prayed for him, burned incense, and had channeled the Merciful Goddess to no avail. It was unlike Inanna not to answer her, and Senua could only wonder at what terrible lesson the man was suffering from.

Senua reached down to press the back of her hand to his cheek. He was still warm, and his skin was still clammy. She tilted his head back and rubbed his throat as she poured cool water past his parched lips. The massage helped him swallow, but it only worked for water and broth – poor sustenance for a fever. There was little else she could do for the man, so Senua knelt down on a pillow and closed her eyes to meditate and pray. After a few moments of silence, she began to mutter, which grew into a throat chant, and then a soft song in a long dead language believe to be the words of the Gods themselves. She sang her prayer and her praise to Inanna and hoped her devotion would be enough to allow the man to live a little longer.

 

[MilitairyWalker]

Whoever had entered his room that day would have thought he had a seizzure. The normally so peaceful Neilla lay thrashing and heaving on the bamboo matress sprawled out on the hard wooden floor of his small confindment. Neilla was known for roaming the halls of his monastery without saying a word, nor making eye contact with anyone. Long had he completed his training and was an honered recruit of the deity army, as they called themselves. Neilla and his fellow 'soldiers' all praised the god Aatrox and the hell siren named Meredith. While the two weren't together they made an unbeatable team. Meredith herself turning on her sex and feeling it was her duty to help Aatrox in his quest by submitting all females to the stronger race. It was Meredith especially who was disgusted by female figures of power, the name Aphrodite alone made Meredith's eyes burn and temper rise above hell's standards.

Just that hatred had Neilla experienced that night, his dreams occupied by the voice of Aatrox, ordering Neilla to do Aatrox a favour. There seemed to be some sanctuary, desolate place where Merciful Goddess was being praised. Despite his own disgust, Neilla felt the burning hatred and fury of Meredith rush through his body like a fever. Nestling itself in his veins as he went send out to destroy said Goddess. Of course he wasn't fit to fight any god or goddess, nor was he capable of destroying an entire town with his bare hands. Yet he was send on a mission, a quest to infiltrate and hit the temple where it hurt. Appearantly a girl needed to be taken out, for what reason Neilla didn't know, asking that question wasn't even on his mind as he woke from his vision and immediatly started on his first assignment.

The fevorious temperature did not go away, neither did it bother him. Mixing dust with mud from outside and wooden splinters, which he managed to scrape off of his floor by grinding stones into it, together in a bowl made a coloured substance which would tone his body in such a way it didn't stand out as foreign. When he had covered his tatoo, as he was told by Aatrox, he was barely able to see the difference in skin colour. Nodding in appreciation, Neilla gathered what he thought neccesairy for his short trip.

He was to enter barren, yet Aatrox would ensure of that... what it meant was unclear to Neilla, yet he boarded the first boat he could and ordered anyone off of the ship. It's captain refused to leave, which left Neilla no choice but the sail with the man of authority until he was told differently. Tired from his restless night, and hasty work, Neilla rested against the ship's cabin until his head slumbed to the side and his vision again returned. This time there wasn't even an image, just a green mist with a whisper, a female whisper. "Noble soldier.... by the power of the sirens I will ensure your trip to the island, but it won't go without a sacrifice..." A thunderous lightning bolt snapped Neilla awake, anxious whether he had missed part of the message due to his awakening, Neilla felt even warmer than before as his body temperature seemed to rise above human limits. Another electric strike coloured the horizon and Neilla was just able to see how the captain was blasted into cold water by the impact of some tidal wave. A mere second later, Neilla was propelled through the air, landing head first in the freezing water as his vision blacked out.

When he awoke, his body collided with sand and rocks. Neilla wasn't able to stand nor move, yet he could sense he was awake. Fearing parallysis, his mind was eased by yet another whisper. "You've reached your destination soldier... await your oppurtunity and strike. Inside I won't be able to reach you due to the Goddesses wards, come to this shorr every night to see whether we have instructions. Now GO!" That last word hit Neilla like the lightningbolts he had witnessed before blacking out. He was now certain that the high siren had somehow tempered his body, possibly made it a vessel for her power. The rage being too much for him to handle, his mind again blacked out until he was somewhere inside.

Neilla had sensed he wasn't back in his monastery, sensed it hadn't all been a dream. Neilla awoke on a bed, words he could not comprehend filling his ears, yet having an unexplicable working on his body. The sounds seemed to anger and burn inside of him, the pain becomming too much to bear in his sleep had caused him to wake. Moving his head to the side he noticed a girl on the floor, she was the source of these sounds, she needed to be stopped. Opening his mouth Neilla couldn't bring forth more sound than a grunt of pain, yet the long drawn complaint could potentially attract her attention, snapping her from her singing as it seemed.

 

[LeatrixSage]

It wasn’t the sound that gave her pause. She didn’t notice it at first. Something else made her pause to listen, a sickening feeling, like food weighing too heavily on her stomach. Whatever it was stilled her tongue long enough that she heard the parched grunting sounds that came from the thatched matt behind her. Turning, she saw the man gaping, his mouth working as if trying to speak.

“Blessed Inanna,” the shock of it left her frozen for a moment before she scrambled to her feet and came to his side.

“Here, take some water,” she insisted as she pressed a cool, stoneware cup into his hands. He still looked feverish, and his lips were cracked from the sea’s salt and the sun, and when she lightly touched his cheek again she indeed found it still warmer than it should have been. “You were in a ship wreck,” she explained in soothing tones. It wasn’t unusual for a person to forget what had happened to them after being stricken with a fever and she sought to ease his mind. “You were found on the beach and a fisherman helped to bring you here. The people here are deeply distrusting of strangers, I am afraid, but you’ll find plenty of food and water here until you can find passage home.”

Senua sat back on her heels and told herself to wait. The man was still feverish, may even be having waking dreams, and she was unloading information on him faster than he could drink the water she had given him. Auburn curls tumbled about her shoulders, and the flames from the little fire in the far-left corner of the little meditation space made her olive skin glow yellow and gold while she waited. It occurred to her that he might not speak the language of the people on the Island, but… she would just have to wait and see. She was fluent in so many tongues, she doubted he’d speak one she didn’t know. It meant she might need to serve as a translator for him, a daunting task of skill that she hadn’t needed to use in many years.

He looked the part of the brigand, a pirate, perhaps, but there was no telling for sure. Time would tell, and she hoped he wouldn’t be so foolish as to try to steal from the temple. Many had tried, all had failed. Inanna was a jealous protector, and she rarely allowed even the meanest creature to steal from her vessels. It was that promise of protection that allowed her to sit next to him, uncaring of his strength or any danger he may present to her. That, and the renowned respect that she and her order demanded. No one harmed a vessel of the Merciful Goddess, Inanna. They provided too much to the communities they served.

“What is your name,” she finally asked when he seemed to collect himself, “I am Senua.”