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tamingthemuse2013-10-12 10:57 pm
tekia.livejournal.com) wrote in tamingthemuse2013-10-12 10:57 pm
Entry tags:
Prompt# 377 – Bleak - The Living God - Tekia – Original
Title: The Living God
Fandom: Original
Prompt: Bleak
Warnings: none
Rating: PG
Summary: The gods live among us, always watching, judging us for that day of reckoning. When not even the most powerful of people know who the living gods are, who are they to turn to when demons come to destroy the world?
For two days after Naxcha had arrived, the witches were kept in the darkened room without the freedom to leave. A few more women trickled in after Naxcha and they were all quickly brought up to speed on the events that had been happening around the empire, and within the room itself.
The guards had warned them that they would be leaving at sunrise on the third day for the golden city, and it was to be their duty to see to it that the emperor and his family were protected from the demons and their evil.
Some of the women cried, for they were yet young and had ideals of family and friends while being a witch. Naxcha had long ago lost what friends she had had, and her family…
They were gone as well, now.
She was only a thin woman, and she knew that she had no chance of escaping the heavily guarded temple that they had been sequestered in. Even if she could find it in herself to leave the women that were quietly crying in the shadows as they realized that they had to leave behind all the people that depended on them for safety.
When the time came for them to leave, covered chairs were brought around and the witches were hustled in, two to a chair, and driven up to the palace itself, through twists and turns that would befuddle any not intimately familiar with it all. The old woman at her side clutched her hand in a surprisingly strong grip as they peered through a crack in the curtains at the passing road.
The palace was built out of massive stones that legend said the gods themselves put into place. The road was perfectly level, not a pothole in sight as the two men carrying their chair raced through the maze of walls.
“I’ll never see my grandson,” the old woman whispered in her ear. “I can only pray to the gods that he will survive the demons.”
Naxcha’s head whipped around. “You have a family?”
The old woman shook her head. “I have a daughter.” A soft, fond smile curved her lips. “My husband died when she was but a child. It was then that I became a witch. For a long time, my daughter followed in my footsteps, but she changed her mind when she fell in love. This, I shall be grateful for. She’s not here.”
Naxcha nodded. “My bones tell me something terrible is going to happen.”
“We all have read that, my child.” Her hand shook where she clasped Naxcha’s. “We can only wait and see what happens.”
Naxcha’s lips went thin, and she tugged her scarf tighter around her face, hiding her expression. “I don’t like this.”
“None of us do.”
They rode the rest of the way in silence, and when the witches disembarked from the chairs, there was a bleak silence in the small courtyard. The witches huddled together as the guards gathered at the only exit that was visible, aside from the door to the interior of the palace before them.
From that shadowed doorway, the high priest emerged, a hooded cloak hiding all but his beak of a nose from sight. Behind him, two rows of six young girls that Naxcha recognized as priestesses followed him, their heads bowed and hands clasped before them. Behind them were the priests, all older men with sharp eyes and thin lips. And like that the small courtyard was filled with people, priests, witches, guards, and young girls that had been chosen by the gods for either their purity or their beauty.
Everybody seemed to have something to do, save for the witches, the common folk in the mix. The priests ordered the guards around, and the girls quickly stored the bags that had appeared at the doorway into more covered chairs.
The witches watched it all in silence, their fingers moving quickly at their sides, neatly hidden under folds of clothes, summoning blessings and magic to protect them on their journey. And to protect those that they were soon going to be out of contact with.
“Naxcha!”
With a start, Naxcha turned to the guard that was approaching her, his eyes wide and his face pale.
“Chachtan, what do you here? You should have returned to your family!” She reached out toward him, her hand hovering just over his shoulder before she drew away. “It is dangerous here.”
He nodded and scratched at his nose. “I felt that it was. I volunteered to escort the party to the golden city. The gods will it.”
She shook her head. “The gods are not with us in this.”
He frowned and shook his head. He glanced over his shoulder as a guard raised his voice to be heard over the din of voices in the courtyard. “I cannot be seen talking with you, but know that I will be here for you, should you need me.”
She met his gaze and saw in his dark eyes the fear and knowledge that she knew he could read in hers. They were alone in this, and it terrified them both.
Fandom: Original
Prompt: Bleak
Warnings: none
Rating: PG
Summary: The gods live among us, always watching, judging us for that day of reckoning. When not even the most powerful of people know who the living gods are, who are they to turn to when demons come to destroy the world?
For two days after Naxcha had arrived, the witches were kept in the darkened room without the freedom to leave. A few more women trickled in after Naxcha and they were all quickly brought up to speed on the events that had been happening around the empire, and within the room itself.
The guards had warned them that they would be leaving at sunrise on the third day for the golden city, and it was to be their duty to see to it that the emperor and his family were protected from the demons and their evil.
Some of the women cried, for they were yet young and had ideals of family and friends while being a witch. Naxcha had long ago lost what friends she had had, and her family…
They were gone as well, now.
She was only a thin woman, and she knew that she had no chance of escaping the heavily guarded temple that they had been sequestered in. Even if she could find it in herself to leave the women that were quietly crying in the shadows as they realized that they had to leave behind all the people that depended on them for safety.
When the time came for them to leave, covered chairs were brought around and the witches were hustled in, two to a chair, and driven up to the palace itself, through twists and turns that would befuddle any not intimately familiar with it all. The old woman at her side clutched her hand in a surprisingly strong grip as they peered through a crack in the curtains at the passing road.
The palace was built out of massive stones that legend said the gods themselves put into place. The road was perfectly level, not a pothole in sight as the two men carrying their chair raced through the maze of walls.
“I’ll never see my grandson,” the old woman whispered in her ear. “I can only pray to the gods that he will survive the demons.”
Naxcha’s head whipped around. “You have a family?”
The old woman shook her head. “I have a daughter.” A soft, fond smile curved her lips. “My husband died when she was but a child. It was then that I became a witch. For a long time, my daughter followed in my footsteps, but she changed her mind when she fell in love. This, I shall be grateful for. She’s not here.”
Naxcha nodded. “My bones tell me something terrible is going to happen.”
“We all have read that, my child.” Her hand shook where she clasped Naxcha’s. “We can only wait and see what happens.”
Naxcha’s lips went thin, and she tugged her scarf tighter around her face, hiding her expression. “I don’t like this.”
“None of us do.”
They rode the rest of the way in silence, and when the witches disembarked from the chairs, there was a bleak silence in the small courtyard. The witches huddled together as the guards gathered at the only exit that was visible, aside from the door to the interior of the palace before them.
From that shadowed doorway, the high priest emerged, a hooded cloak hiding all but his beak of a nose from sight. Behind him, two rows of six young girls that Naxcha recognized as priestesses followed him, their heads bowed and hands clasped before them. Behind them were the priests, all older men with sharp eyes and thin lips. And like that the small courtyard was filled with people, priests, witches, guards, and young girls that had been chosen by the gods for either their purity or their beauty.
Everybody seemed to have something to do, save for the witches, the common folk in the mix. The priests ordered the guards around, and the girls quickly stored the bags that had appeared at the doorway into more covered chairs.
The witches watched it all in silence, their fingers moving quickly at their sides, neatly hidden under folds of clothes, summoning blessings and magic to protect them on their journey. And to protect those that they were soon going to be out of contact with.
“Naxcha!”
With a start, Naxcha turned to the guard that was approaching her, his eyes wide and his face pale.
“Chachtan, what do you here? You should have returned to your family!” She reached out toward him, her hand hovering just over his shoulder before she drew away. “It is dangerous here.”
He nodded and scratched at his nose. “I felt that it was. I volunteered to escort the party to the golden city. The gods will it.”
She shook her head. “The gods are not with us in this.”
He frowned and shook his head. He glanced over his shoulder as a guard raised his voice to be heard over the din of voices in the courtyard. “I cannot be seen talking with you, but know that I will be here for you, should you need me.”
She met his gaze and saw in his dark eyes the fear and knowledge that she knew he could read in hers. They were alone in this, and it terrified them both.