[Open] And Did the Countenance Divine

[graveling]

Who: Angel and You
What: Properly priesting, or trying to at least
When: July
Where: Yes!
Warning(s): None yet

1. I will not cease from mental fight [Temple Matters]
With Degas on his sabbatical, Angel is taking on the full mantle of Priest of the Mothers. He’s wearing the brown robes of a priest and the green stole with braided knotwork patterns similar to Celtic designs along it, even though doing so makes him feel a little like a child in their father’s shoes.

Still, he’s here if you need guidance or blessing, trying to fill the role.


2. Nor shall my sword sleep in my hand [Milk and Honey]
As he’s trying to fill the role of full-time priest, Angel’s still in his robes as he brings products from Kasprak farm into town. Vegetables and fruits, eggs and goat’s milk. And, of course, honey, in small glass jars all with a wax stamp on top–a bee with a pair of stylized feathered wings.

He’s visiting stores and restaurants, but if you catch him on the carriage Arcadia’s pulling, you might get tossed a ripe tomato or offered a melon. There’s plenty to go around.


3. Till we have built Jerusalem [A Day Off]
Sometimes, it’s all a bit much. Angel occasionally runs away from his duties. Never on days when there are services planned, never when he’s scheduled for something. But when restlessness strikes, Angel’s feet take him to the wild parts of the island. Paradesium, Lockwood Forest near Elsie’s Tree, and even nosing around the cave near Tawny Beach, though it’s been caved in since he and River had their adventure. He isn’t wearing his robes, he hasn’t combed his hair, he might be up a tree or sitting on a rock, and he surely isn’t expecting company.

But still, if you approach, there’s a sheepish little nod and a wave.


4. In England's green and pleasant land [Wildcard]
[find me on discord at darkersolstice to plot]

Comments

[not_the_last]

"And Mortanne is the winter goddess, you said," she says, in a tone of just-to-be-sure-I've-got-this-right. "Comfort to the orphan and widow."

[graveling]

“Yeah. That’s her.” He nods slightly. “And lover of horses and carriage-drivers.”

[not_the_last]

She smiles. "I've never been a carriage-driver, or spent much time with horses, but ... I should give her a word as well. And -- Serranai, you said? That's oddly similar to the name of another goddess we have at home, Sarenrae."

[graveling]

“Orphan or widow?” The question isn’t pointed at all, not meant to jab or pry. It is the most earnest way that question could be asked, as someone awkwardly tried to see if someone’s on the same side of the dichotomy as he is.

[not_the_last]

The word orphan is on her lips, and she can't understand why she feels as though it would be a lie. She can't remember that anyone ever applied the word orphan to her, not in her hearing. She was the survivor; her parents' death didn't make her an orphan, it made her the Lady de Rolo, even in hiding.

She considers saying it anyway, considers amending it with technically, but that doesn't feel right either.

"My parents are gone," is what she says, as evenly as she can.

[graveling]

"I'm sorry to hear that." He nods quietly, not wholly sure if her opacity there is meant to indicate weird feelings about her parents or their death.

[not_the_last]

"Thank you."

A long beat.

"I never --" The words take her by surprise, and she breaks off for a moment before continuing. "I never had the chance to properly send them on. I ... do you think it would be appropriate, to say a few words to Mortanne on their behalf?"

[graveling]

"Yes. Definitely. Not just for her or for their souls, but for you, too. It's important to get to do something, to say goodbye."

He tucks a hand into a pocket of his robe, pulling out a pair of small pine cones and offering them to Cassandra.

[not_the_last]

She looks down at them a little blankly, and back up at him, and the penny visibly drops.

"For an offering?"

[graveling]

"For an offering." He nods. "One for each parent. Unless you have more than two?"

[not_the_last]

Slowly, she reaches out to take one of the pine cones from his hand.

"Two," she says numbly. "And two sisters, and three brothers."

[graveling]

"You had a whole family. Would you tell me about them, some other time? I never had one, myself."

Unfortunately, he's not carrying seven pinecones at the moment.

[not_the_last]

"I -- yes, I'd be happy to." She turns the pinecone in her hand, studying it. "Would it be appropriate to make something of this, to offer?"

[graveling]

"Yes, if you wanted to. Bring it back, when you're done, set it on her altar, and say whatever's in your heart." He does the whole slow awkward smiling thing again, tries to hold it a little longer this time. It only manages to look more tortured.

[not_the_last]

"I will," she says, "thank you."

Abruptly she wants to ask if he's all right, but it feels ... intrusive? Inappropriate?

[graveling]

He isn't blinking or breathing. Alright is all a matter of perspective.

"Anything else I can help you with?"

[not_the_last]

"Not ... just now," she says, "again, thank you. I, I'll be back."