yael

Religion is confusing. The tenements of it are fairly straightforward: believe, worship, recieve guidance or protection. And yet for many, that is not how the story goes. Everything gets messy when morality is involved, when rules are ‘dictated’ or the deity is absent. That, and there are some who will always be drawn to power, who try to hijack something with the potential to be wonderful and twist it to benefit them and their inner circle. Religion and a bevy of priests ultimately destroyed her tribe, while greed for power took her kingdom and her family from her.

This place will likely hold more questions than answers for Yael, and she already knows they are not likely to come in a straightforward manner, if at all. Nevertheless, she persists. Some things must be attempted, regardless of their potential outcomes.

For weeks now, Yael has debated with herself about visiting the place of the Gods, and even now, she’s not sure what she seeks or hopes to find. Wariness sets in, as well as a natural caution that has always served her well, as she slowly crosses the lava flows. Before, doubt plagued her about whether or not one of them would show, but after coming here with Rikyn, she is less nervous (and how silly it is for her to be nervous, when she once almost stood on their plane!). Is it jealousy she seeks to avoid? Coming face to face with capricious beings she cannot help but judge a little, though she knows that she, too, has faced judgement and fallen from grace. A heavy sigh passes through her lips as salty winds tease her silver-white locks and a fine ocean mist settles on her coat. A light shiver runs down her spine, as the four altars come into view.  

Even here, she faces indecision: whom does she invoke? The Moon is the Edge’s  - no, her - own patron, whom she’s met twice – that would be the obvious choice. The loyal choice, but her loyalty likes with those who are dead, and so you’ll have to forgive her if she’s a little skeptical. But the Sun draws her, for some reason, perhaps a natural reaction to a lifetime spent under its blazing rays, sweating into sand and carving out a life under harsh circumstances. It is an environment not everyone can handle. Ah, but the Earth! There is something in her that draws her that way as well, perhaps in part due to Isopia, or to her identification as a mother. Indecision keeps her in the middle, gaze flitting between the three markers. Eventually she comes to the decision that it might be best to leave it up to fate, (almost) sure that she will be happy with whomever deigns to answer.

“Xello?” she calls into the gray, cloud-covered day, throwing her voice out into rolling, murky colored waves and beyond, beyond. The silence before her is deafening, on the lifeless pile of rock, and she wonders if it’s intentional, if they mean to make it so isolating.

“I’m not sure xow to do zis, but… eef anyvone ees villing, I vould very much like to xaf a chat.” I t’ink… she manages to keep to herself, as if bottling it up it inside could hide her insecurities from them.