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Most of the rich kept goats on hand if not to eat for themselves, to sacrifice to one of the gods. Artemis, in particular, was said to favor the meat of a goat, or a deer, or any wild game. Lord Gavriil led the goat on a tether inside the temple, relaxing at once in the marble shade it offered. Added to his sacrifice, he had a pair of pheasants that he laid on the altar below the statue of the Goddess of the Hunt. This was no very special occasion, except that he asked for the goddess’s blessings on all his children; his daughter Dorothea, most of all. He’d already been to Athena’s temple this morning to ask for wisdom for Iason in his efforts in Athenia. Not having heard from his son, he could only pray for his first born’s safe return. His next stop after this one was Hera’s temple, to pray for his family as a whole, and then to Ares, to offer his prayers for the war efforts. Gavriil was of the old ways, highly religious, and did not like the growing trend of the young to neglect their prayer duties.
On his knees, before the statue, he watched as a priestess came and took the lead of the goat from him. The animal blinked lazily, not understanding it was breathing its last breaths. A glaze clay bowl of deep azure was placed into Gavriil’s waiting hands by a different priestess and the older lord remained on his knees, bowl kept below the goat’s neck, waiting for the quick draw of the knife across the animal’s throat. A man of the hunt, he did not flinch or bat an eye as the silver flashed and the goat’s body tensed, eyes going wide. Gavriil was ready with the bowl and caught the blood as it pooled. After the initial flow, the goddess took the bowl from him and dumped it on the statue’s feet to join the rest of the blood already there. The meat would be divided up between the priestesses after a portion was burnt as an offering to the goddess herself.
Gavriil rose, wincing at having been on his knees so long, and watched the animal being picked up and taken away. He then turned to the statue, looking up into Artemis’s face for a long time. Her youth reminded him strongly of his own daughter and so did the stubborn tilt to her chin. Hera help him but their relationship lately had been rough. Rougher than it’d ever been when she was a teen. His gaze swung away and he turned to find a small, female shape silhouetted in the temple’s doorway.
He stepped aside as he strode toward her to let her pass, and then realized with a start who this was. She was not a lady and never had been, so the lord did not bow to her, but he did slow. Her situation was known to all of Vasiliadon and even he, who did not partake in gossip circles, was not unaware of the precarious nature of her living situation.
“Good morning,” he said once he was close enough, his voice its usual gruff tenor. If they’d ever spoken before, it couldn’t have been more than the usual pleasantries. Gavriil had avoided Prince Irakles’s parties and house as much as humanly possible. Though, in a circle of elite as small as theirs, it was hard not to at least know the names of those who revolved in it. The Dimitrou lord carefully avoided using this girl’s name. He couldn’t remember which of Irakles’s daughters she was, but her likeness was unmistakable. Swiveling around, he gestured back to Artemis’s likeness. “It is good you do not neglect your duties,” he said seriously. “To neglect the gods is to invite chaos.”
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Most of the rich kept goats on hand if not to eat for themselves, to sacrifice to one of the gods. Artemis, in particular, was said to favor the meat of a goat, or a deer, or any wild game. Lord Gavriil led the goat on a tether inside the temple, relaxing at once in the marble shade it offered. Added to his sacrifice, he had a pair of pheasants that he laid on the altar below the statue of the Goddess of the Hunt. This was no very special occasion, except that he asked for the goddess’s blessings on all his children; his daughter Dorothea, most of all. He’d already been to Athena’s temple this morning to ask for wisdom for Iason in his efforts in Athenia. Not having heard from his son, he could only pray for his first born’s safe return. His next stop after this one was Hera’s temple, to pray for his family as a whole, and then to Ares, to offer his prayers for the war efforts. Gavriil was of the old ways, highly religious, and did not like the growing trend of the young to neglect their prayer duties.
On his knees, before the statue, he watched as a priestess came and took the lead of the goat from him. The animal blinked lazily, not understanding it was breathing its last breaths. A glaze clay bowl of deep azure was placed into Gavriil’s waiting hands by a different priestess and the older lord remained on his knees, bowl kept below the goat’s neck, waiting for the quick draw of the knife across the animal’s throat. A man of the hunt, he did not flinch or bat an eye as the silver flashed and the goat’s body tensed, eyes going wide. Gavriil was ready with the bowl and caught the blood as it pooled. After the initial flow, the goddess took the bowl from him and dumped it on the statue’s feet to join the rest of the blood already there. The meat would be divided up between the priestesses after a portion was burnt as an offering to the goddess herself.
Gavriil rose, wincing at having been on his knees so long, and watched the animal being picked up and taken away. He then turned to the statue, looking up into Artemis’s face for a long time. Her youth reminded him strongly of his own daughter and so did the stubborn tilt to her chin. Hera help him but their relationship lately had been rough. Rougher than it’d ever been when she was a teen. His gaze swung away and he turned to find a small, female shape silhouetted in the temple’s doorway.
He stepped aside as he strode toward her to let her pass, and then realized with a start who this was. She was not a lady and never had been, so the lord did not bow to her, but he did slow. Her situation was known to all of Vasiliadon and even he, who did not partake in gossip circles, was not unaware of the precarious nature of her living situation.
“Good morning,” he said once he was close enough, his voice its usual gruff tenor. If they’d ever spoken before, it couldn’t have been more than the usual pleasantries. Gavriil had avoided Prince Irakles’s parties and house as much as humanly possible. Though, in a circle of elite as small as theirs, it was hard not to at least know the names of those who revolved in it. The Dimitrou lord carefully avoided using this girl’s name. He couldn’t remember which of Irakles’s daughters she was, but her likeness was unmistakable. Swiveling around, he gestured back to Artemis’s likeness. “It is good you do not neglect your duties,” he said seriously. “To neglect the gods is to invite chaos.”
Most of the rich kept goats on hand if not to eat for themselves, to sacrifice to one of the gods. Artemis, in particular, was said to favor the meat of a goat, or a deer, or any wild game. Lord Gavriil led the goat on a tether inside the temple, relaxing at once in the marble shade it offered. Added to his sacrifice, he had a pair of pheasants that he laid on the altar below the statue of the Goddess of the Hunt. This was no very special occasion, except that he asked for the goddess’s blessings on all his children; his daughter Dorothea, most of all. He’d already been to Athena’s temple this morning to ask for wisdom for Iason in his efforts in Athenia. Not having heard from his son, he could only pray for his first born’s safe return. His next stop after this one was Hera’s temple, to pray for his family as a whole, and then to Ares, to offer his prayers for the war efforts. Gavriil was of the old ways, highly religious, and did not like the growing trend of the young to neglect their prayer duties.
On his knees, before the statue, he watched as a priestess came and took the lead of the goat from him. The animal blinked lazily, not understanding it was breathing its last breaths. A glaze clay bowl of deep azure was placed into Gavriil’s waiting hands by a different priestess and the older lord remained on his knees, bowl kept below the goat’s neck, waiting for the quick draw of the knife across the animal’s throat. A man of the hunt, he did not flinch or bat an eye as the silver flashed and the goat’s body tensed, eyes going wide. Gavriil was ready with the bowl and caught the blood as it pooled. After the initial flow, the goddess took the bowl from him and dumped it on the statue’s feet to join the rest of the blood already there. The meat would be divided up between the priestesses after a portion was burnt as an offering to the goddess herself.
Gavriil rose, wincing at having been on his knees so long, and watched the animal being picked up and taken away. He then turned to the statue, looking up into Artemis’s face for a long time. Her youth reminded him strongly of his own daughter and so did the stubborn tilt to her chin. Hera help him but their relationship lately had been rough. Rougher than it’d ever been when she was a teen. His gaze swung away and he turned to find a small, female shape silhouetted in the temple’s doorway.
He stepped aside as he strode toward her to let her pass, and then realized with a start who this was. She was not a lady and never had been, so the lord did not bow to her, but he did slow. Her situation was known to all of Vasiliadon and even he, who did not partake in gossip circles, was not unaware of the precarious nature of her living situation.
“Good morning,” he said once he was close enough, his voice its usual gruff tenor. If they’d ever spoken before, it couldn’t have been more than the usual pleasantries. Gavriil had avoided Prince Irakles’s parties and house as much as humanly possible. Though, in a circle of elite as small as theirs, it was hard not to at least know the names of those who revolved in it. The Dimitrou lord carefully avoided using this girl’s name. He couldn’t remember which of Irakles’s daughters she was, but her likeness was unmistakable. Swiveling around, he gestured back to Artemis’s likeness. “It is good you do not neglect your duties,” he said seriously. “To neglect the gods is to invite chaos.”
The sound of her footsteps was light on the steps leading to Artemis’ temple, quiet and reverent as she attempted to move towards her patron goddess’ holy place without disturbing others. She hoped that the goddess would not be offended by a meager offering, instead seeing it as it was -- the best that the young woman had to offer. Artemis was the goddess of the hunt, and yet the tender girl had never been able to bring her an animal. Perhaps that was why her favor had turned away from her, punishing her by striking down her father and taking away all that she had ever known. Still, she was undeterred as she reached the temple’s doorway -- her arms full of ivory and golden flowers as well as a small, beautiful jar of some of Taengea’s finest honey.
She had hesitated in the doorway, averting her eyes not quite quickly enough from the death of another’s goat as her lips pressed together in dismay. It was one of the only things she did not care for, although it was common enough. She never could speak out against it, but she was not sure she could ever offer another life to try to cover her own. The young brunette, dressed in a fine chiton of earthy green that clung to her frame, took a small step to the side as the ritual was done and the blood of the animal was dumped onto the feet of Artemis’ statue. She was quiet even as the man rose, keeping her head down in respect to his time of offering as he looked for a long while at the statue.
Her arms were quivering when he turned to her, striding up to the doorway as she began to take her own steps towards the shrine. She did not meet his gaze, keeping her head down as they grew close enough to pass one another. Only when he spoke did she look upon him fully, bowing her head in respect as she recognized him. It wasn’t a truly familiar kind of recognition, just someone that she had seen in brief moments of her life. He was of relation to Lady Myrto somehow, though at the present moment Sara could not quite remember how. That did mean however, that he probably was not an ally to her.
”Good Morning.” She greeted in return, her typically cheerful voice muted by a reverence she felt being within the temple. ”May the gods grant you favor.” She thought perhaps, that was to be the end of their encounter, but he stopped and swiveled back to the statue. She almost frowned at him when he commented on the importance of duties. Was he mocking her? ”Yes..” She answered slowly, carefully. ”I’ve certainly had my fill of chaos.” She said, glancing away. His name struck her. ”Lord Gavriil, pray tell me -- how is your family?” Alexa was closest to her in age, but they had rarely interacted for one reason or another.
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The sound of her footsteps was light on the steps leading to Artemis’ temple, quiet and reverent as she attempted to move towards her patron goddess’ holy place without disturbing others. She hoped that the goddess would not be offended by a meager offering, instead seeing it as it was -- the best that the young woman had to offer. Artemis was the goddess of the hunt, and yet the tender girl had never been able to bring her an animal. Perhaps that was why her favor had turned away from her, punishing her by striking down her father and taking away all that she had ever known. Still, she was undeterred as she reached the temple’s doorway -- her arms full of ivory and golden flowers as well as a small, beautiful jar of some of Taengea’s finest honey.
She had hesitated in the doorway, averting her eyes not quite quickly enough from the death of another’s goat as her lips pressed together in dismay. It was one of the only things she did not care for, although it was common enough. She never could speak out against it, but she was not sure she could ever offer another life to try to cover her own. The young brunette, dressed in a fine chiton of earthy green that clung to her frame, took a small step to the side as the ritual was done and the blood of the animal was dumped onto the feet of Artemis’ statue. She was quiet even as the man rose, keeping her head down in respect to his time of offering as he looked for a long while at the statue.
Her arms were quivering when he turned to her, striding up to the doorway as she began to take her own steps towards the shrine. She did not meet his gaze, keeping her head down as they grew close enough to pass one another. Only when he spoke did she look upon him fully, bowing her head in respect as she recognized him. It wasn’t a truly familiar kind of recognition, just someone that she had seen in brief moments of her life. He was of relation to Lady Myrto somehow, though at the present moment Sara could not quite remember how. That did mean however, that he probably was not an ally to her.
”Good Morning.” She greeted in return, her typically cheerful voice muted by a reverence she felt being within the temple. ”May the gods grant you favor.” She thought perhaps, that was to be the end of their encounter, but he stopped and swiveled back to the statue. She almost frowned at him when he commented on the importance of duties. Was he mocking her? ”Yes..” She answered slowly, carefully. ”I’ve certainly had my fill of chaos.” She said, glancing away. His name struck her. ”Lord Gavriil, pray tell me -- how is your family?” Alexa was closest to her in age, but they had rarely interacted for one reason or another.
The sound of her footsteps was light on the steps leading to Artemis’ temple, quiet and reverent as she attempted to move towards her patron goddess’ holy place without disturbing others. She hoped that the goddess would not be offended by a meager offering, instead seeing it as it was -- the best that the young woman had to offer. Artemis was the goddess of the hunt, and yet the tender girl had never been able to bring her an animal. Perhaps that was why her favor had turned away from her, punishing her by striking down her father and taking away all that she had ever known. Still, she was undeterred as she reached the temple’s doorway -- her arms full of ivory and golden flowers as well as a small, beautiful jar of some of Taengea’s finest honey.
She had hesitated in the doorway, averting her eyes not quite quickly enough from the death of another’s goat as her lips pressed together in dismay. It was one of the only things she did not care for, although it was common enough. She never could speak out against it, but she was not sure she could ever offer another life to try to cover her own. The young brunette, dressed in a fine chiton of earthy green that clung to her frame, took a small step to the side as the ritual was done and the blood of the animal was dumped onto the feet of Artemis’ statue. She was quiet even as the man rose, keeping her head down in respect to his time of offering as he looked for a long while at the statue.
Her arms were quivering when he turned to her, striding up to the doorway as she began to take her own steps towards the shrine. She did not meet his gaze, keeping her head down as they grew close enough to pass one another. Only when he spoke did she look upon him fully, bowing her head in respect as she recognized him. It wasn’t a truly familiar kind of recognition, just someone that she had seen in brief moments of her life. He was of relation to Lady Myrto somehow, though at the present moment Sara could not quite remember how. That did mean however, that he probably was not an ally to her.
”Good Morning.” She greeted in return, her typically cheerful voice muted by a reverence she felt being within the temple. ”May the gods grant you favor.” She thought perhaps, that was to be the end of their encounter, but he stopped and swiveled back to the statue. She almost frowned at him when he commented on the importance of duties. Was he mocking her? ”Yes..” She answered slowly, carefully. ”I’ve certainly had my fill of chaos.” She said, glancing away. His name struck her. ”Lord Gavriil, pray tell me -- how is your family?” Alexa was closest to her in age, but they had rarely interacted for one reason or another.
Her voice, though soft and low, bounced up from the stone floor and the whispers at the edges of her words slipped around the two of them like little gusts of wind. Every word spoken in a temple always had the tendency to be too loud. The reverent response of Artemis’s blessing had him offer her a shallow bow in return. It was unnecessary and with her mother’s reputation what it was, and without the protection of her father’s shadow, she might start finding herself less and less tolerated in society. She had no name, no true house, though the blood that ran in her veins was related to royalty. Still, Gavriil was not in the habit of holding one’s birth against one’s person. His own late wife had been nothing more than a farmer’s daughter but she’d risen to the rank of Baroness with the grace and elegance of one born to it. Sara might be the same.
It did not particularly bother him that she was evidently uncomfortable by his admonition. He imagined that he saw her face cloud as she told him she’d had quite enough chaos. Yes. He supposed she had. She had to be around Alexa’s age, he thought and he wondered what his own daughter would be doing if her life had been upended the way this girl’s had. Not once, but several times.
”Lord Gavriil, pray tell me -- how is your family?” He drew in breath to answer but at that precise moment, a scene played out behind him, which prevented him from actually speaking.
The goat that he had given as a sacrifice had been dragged away, leaving a trail of glistening blood across the floor. So often did this happen that the stones in that exact spot had a permanent line of rust. A young priestess, no older than seventeen and new to the temple hurried across the temple’s expanse. She held a large clay jug in her arms and she knew about the slick line and to avoid it. This was something she’d done several times over the last few weeks and today should have been no different. But it was. Her foot rose and the heel came down, not on the line’s other side, but directly in the blood trail. Surprise made her second guess her next step and in a cascade of gravity and body, she tumbled down.
Her head hit the floor with a dull smack where she lay motionless. The jug smashed on the floor a second later, exploding in an eruption of wine and jagged shards. Liquid pooled away from her like blood, soaking her white priestess garments and leaching into the yellow of her hair until the ends turned dark red.
Gavriil whipped around, eyes wide, wholly forgetting his conversation. His steps echoed as he moved purposefully to her side, crouching down. She wasn’t moving and he hadn’t seen what happened. All he saw was a girl whose face was perfectly serene and unconscious. “How did this happen?” he asked. For the moment, he and Sara were alone, but they wouldn’t be for long. No doubt the crash of sound would bring the other priestesses running.
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Her voice, though soft and low, bounced up from the stone floor and the whispers at the edges of her words slipped around the two of them like little gusts of wind. Every word spoken in a temple always had the tendency to be too loud. The reverent response of Artemis’s blessing had him offer her a shallow bow in return. It was unnecessary and with her mother’s reputation what it was, and without the protection of her father’s shadow, she might start finding herself less and less tolerated in society. She had no name, no true house, though the blood that ran in her veins was related to royalty. Still, Gavriil was not in the habit of holding one’s birth against one’s person. His own late wife had been nothing more than a farmer’s daughter but she’d risen to the rank of Baroness with the grace and elegance of one born to it. Sara might be the same.
It did not particularly bother him that she was evidently uncomfortable by his admonition. He imagined that he saw her face cloud as she told him she’d had quite enough chaos. Yes. He supposed she had. She had to be around Alexa’s age, he thought and he wondered what his own daughter would be doing if her life had been upended the way this girl’s had. Not once, but several times.
”Lord Gavriil, pray tell me -- how is your family?” He drew in breath to answer but at that precise moment, a scene played out behind him, which prevented him from actually speaking.
The goat that he had given as a sacrifice had been dragged away, leaving a trail of glistening blood across the floor. So often did this happen that the stones in that exact spot had a permanent line of rust. A young priestess, no older than seventeen and new to the temple hurried across the temple’s expanse. She held a large clay jug in her arms and she knew about the slick line and to avoid it. This was something she’d done several times over the last few weeks and today should have been no different. But it was. Her foot rose and the heel came down, not on the line’s other side, but directly in the blood trail. Surprise made her second guess her next step and in a cascade of gravity and body, she tumbled down.
Her head hit the floor with a dull smack where she lay motionless. The jug smashed on the floor a second later, exploding in an eruption of wine and jagged shards. Liquid pooled away from her like blood, soaking her white priestess garments and leaching into the yellow of her hair until the ends turned dark red.
Gavriil whipped around, eyes wide, wholly forgetting his conversation. His steps echoed as he moved purposefully to her side, crouching down. She wasn’t moving and he hadn’t seen what happened. All he saw was a girl whose face was perfectly serene and unconscious. “How did this happen?” he asked. For the moment, he and Sara were alone, but they wouldn’t be for long. No doubt the crash of sound would bring the other priestesses running.
Her voice, though soft and low, bounced up from the stone floor and the whispers at the edges of her words slipped around the two of them like little gusts of wind. Every word spoken in a temple always had the tendency to be too loud. The reverent response of Artemis’s blessing had him offer her a shallow bow in return. It was unnecessary and with her mother’s reputation what it was, and without the protection of her father’s shadow, she might start finding herself less and less tolerated in society. She had no name, no true house, though the blood that ran in her veins was related to royalty. Still, Gavriil was not in the habit of holding one’s birth against one’s person. His own late wife had been nothing more than a farmer’s daughter but she’d risen to the rank of Baroness with the grace and elegance of one born to it. Sara might be the same.
It did not particularly bother him that she was evidently uncomfortable by his admonition. He imagined that he saw her face cloud as she told him she’d had quite enough chaos. Yes. He supposed she had. She had to be around Alexa’s age, he thought and he wondered what his own daughter would be doing if her life had been upended the way this girl’s had. Not once, but several times.
”Lord Gavriil, pray tell me -- how is your family?” He drew in breath to answer but at that precise moment, a scene played out behind him, which prevented him from actually speaking.
The goat that he had given as a sacrifice had been dragged away, leaving a trail of glistening blood across the floor. So often did this happen that the stones in that exact spot had a permanent line of rust. A young priestess, no older than seventeen and new to the temple hurried across the temple’s expanse. She held a large clay jug in her arms and she knew about the slick line and to avoid it. This was something she’d done several times over the last few weeks and today should have been no different. But it was. Her foot rose and the heel came down, not on the line’s other side, but directly in the blood trail. Surprise made her second guess her next step and in a cascade of gravity and body, she tumbled down.
Her head hit the floor with a dull smack where she lay motionless. The jug smashed on the floor a second later, exploding in an eruption of wine and jagged shards. Liquid pooled away from her like blood, soaking her white priestess garments and leaching into the yellow of her hair until the ends turned dark red.
Gavriil whipped around, eyes wide, wholly forgetting his conversation. His steps echoed as he moved purposefully to her side, crouching down. She wasn’t moving and he hadn’t seen what happened. All he saw was a girl whose face was perfectly serene and unconscious. “How did this happen?” he asked. For the moment, he and Sara were alone, but they wouldn’t be for long. No doubt the crash of sound would bring the other priestesses running.
Nikolias, too, had decided to pay a visit to the temple. If Apollo was his patron, Artemis was his second favorite, being Apollo's twin. And it could not hurt to placate both one's favorite gods on behalf of one's country, could it? And as always, he also prayed for Nikos, whom he cared for whether or not that young man realized it.
He wished Gavriil and Sara a good morning before adding his thoughts to their conversation. He questioned whether or not chaos cared if the gods were invoked. “Chaos can be a rather rude guest, barging in uninvited as it seems to do most times, and even the best bolts on the doors can be useless against preventing its entrance into our lives. But you are right- the less of it we see, the better. Gods know that Taengea is currently having more than its share, to say nothing of Greece as a whole.” There was little need in his mind to ask if that was why they were all here. He couldn't help but nod approvingly when Gavriil said it was good that Sara did not neglect her prayers. But then, he supposed the girl had a lot to be praying about. Change could be challenging and even frightening at any age, but he supposed it might always be so for the young. Where he would have been without either one of his parents at Sara's age he could not begin to imagine. As well as the grief Tasia and Sara must be experiencing, he wondered who might be both able and willing to arrange matches for them when and if they were to be married.
“I hope you and Miss Tasia are well,” he added to the girl.
When he saw the young priestess on the floor, Nikolias winced. "Speaking of uninvited chaos..." he muttered,holding back a curse only for Sara's sake.
Fortunately, though blood was a phobia of his, he had experience with it, and he muttered another prayer to Artemis under his breath while trying to check the girl for injuries without moving her too much.
"Linen, if it is available," he murmured. "She will probably have a nasty headache later."
If she's alive, he thought with another glance at Gavriil.
"How, indeed?"
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Nikolias, too, had decided to pay a visit to the temple. If Apollo was his patron, Artemis was his second favorite, being Apollo's twin. And it could not hurt to placate both one's favorite gods on behalf of one's country, could it? And as always, he also prayed for Nikos, whom he cared for whether or not that young man realized it.
He wished Gavriil and Sara a good morning before adding his thoughts to their conversation. He questioned whether or not chaos cared if the gods were invoked. “Chaos can be a rather rude guest, barging in uninvited as it seems to do most times, and even the best bolts on the doors can be useless against preventing its entrance into our lives. But you are right- the less of it we see, the better. Gods know that Taengea is currently having more than its share, to say nothing of Greece as a whole.” There was little need in his mind to ask if that was why they were all here. He couldn't help but nod approvingly when Gavriil said it was good that Sara did not neglect her prayers. But then, he supposed the girl had a lot to be praying about. Change could be challenging and even frightening at any age, but he supposed it might always be so for the young. Where he would have been without either one of his parents at Sara's age he could not begin to imagine. As well as the grief Tasia and Sara must be experiencing, he wondered who might be both able and willing to arrange matches for them when and if they were to be married.
“I hope you and Miss Tasia are well,” he added to the girl.
When he saw the young priestess on the floor, Nikolias winced. "Speaking of uninvited chaos..." he muttered,holding back a curse only for Sara's sake.
Fortunately, though blood was a phobia of his, he had experience with it, and he muttered another prayer to Artemis under his breath while trying to check the girl for injuries without moving her too much.
"Linen, if it is available," he murmured. "She will probably have a nasty headache later."
If she's alive, he thought with another glance at Gavriil.
"How, indeed?"
Nikolias, too, had decided to pay a visit to the temple. If Apollo was his patron, Artemis was his second favorite, being Apollo's twin. And it could not hurt to placate both one's favorite gods on behalf of one's country, could it? And as always, he also prayed for Nikos, whom he cared for whether or not that young man realized it.
He wished Gavriil and Sara a good morning before adding his thoughts to their conversation. He questioned whether or not chaos cared if the gods were invoked. “Chaos can be a rather rude guest, barging in uninvited as it seems to do most times, and even the best bolts on the doors can be useless against preventing its entrance into our lives. But you are right- the less of it we see, the better. Gods know that Taengea is currently having more than its share, to say nothing of Greece as a whole.” There was little need in his mind to ask if that was why they were all here. He couldn't help but nod approvingly when Gavriil said it was good that Sara did not neglect her prayers. But then, he supposed the girl had a lot to be praying about. Change could be challenging and even frightening at any age, but he supposed it might always be so for the young. Where he would have been without either one of his parents at Sara's age he could not begin to imagine. As well as the grief Tasia and Sara must be experiencing, he wondered who might be both able and willing to arrange matches for them when and if they were to be married.
“I hope you and Miss Tasia are well,” he added to the girl.
When he saw the young priestess on the floor, Nikolias winced. "Speaking of uninvited chaos..." he muttered,holding back a curse only for Sara's sake.
Fortunately, though blood was a phobia of his, he had experience with it, and he muttered another prayer to Artemis under his breath while trying to check the girl for injuries without moving her too much.
"Linen, if it is available," he murmured. "She will probably have a nasty headache later."
If she's alive, he thought with another glance at Gavriil.
"How, indeed?"
She glanced up, noticing Lord Nikolias for the first time -- their time at the reflection pools had not been so long ago. She inclined her head in his direction, dark waves falling around her face briefly to shield her from view. They had spoken of chaos the last time that they had met, and she had to bite back a small grin. She certainly liked to invite chaos into her life it seemed. ”I am, thank you.” She said, but made no mention of her sister. She hadn’t the slightest idea of what her elder sister was up to.
Their conversation was only just starting to get underway when there was a loud crash, her blue gaze jerked to the scene unfolding just behind them. The young woman hesitated, her eyes widening in surprise and turning to horror as the men beside her were already beginning to move into action. Sara faltered as they left her behind to attend the priestess, her arms still full of her offerings, the fragrance of the flowers unable to dull the strong scent of wine.
Carefully, Sara began to make her way to the place where offerings were made. Her steps were light, trying not to make the same mistake that the other woman had. She lay down her things, whispering a quick word of apology to Artemis and making a vow to the goddess to come back and properly make her offering before turning back to the scene at hand. She was confident in her walk, surprisingly so as she knelt down between the two older men -- men who had decades of more experience than she did. Men who had likely known battle and had seen far more wounds than she would in her lifetime.
Her gaze swept over the situation, nodding and Nikolias’ assessment for linens. Blood and wine mixed at her feet but Sara quickly rescued her chiton from the cesspool -- only to pull it’s clean edge to the young priestess’ head. ”Head wounds always seem nastier than they are.” She explained in a steady voice. ”At least that’s what I’ve read.” She made no fuss about getting dirty, the years spent in her small patch of garden at the archtikonos having well cured her of any girly desires to be clean and spotless. She also had quite the experience in helping birth kittens, and that was a dirty business in itself.
She looked to Lord Gavril. ”Help me get her head here,” She directed, flushing before she amended. ”Please. It will be easier to hold this here until the other priestesses can come.” She would bet that they had heard the sound of the jug crashing to the floor, the dark vermilion liquid creeping slowly along the path that the goat’s blood was going as well. ”I think,” Sara began slowly. ”that she slipped here.” She said with a vague gesture to the messy floor. ”Easy enough to do. Blood is...quite slick.” Her shoulders gave a slight shudder, but her resolve held.
”Chaos indeed. Do you think...she’ll be alright?” She asked, sounding concerned. She was not sure which had made that awful sound, the jug hitting the floor or her head. She wiped the other woman’s face carefully, finding that little of the blood seemed to be her own. That was a relief in some regard, she supposed. Sara realized then that her hands were trembling of their own accord, her breaths short and shallow. Perhaps she was not as calm as she thought she had been.
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She glanced up, noticing Lord Nikolias for the first time -- their time at the reflection pools had not been so long ago. She inclined her head in his direction, dark waves falling around her face briefly to shield her from view. They had spoken of chaos the last time that they had met, and she had to bite back a small grin. She certainly liked to invite chaos into her life it seemed. ”I am, thank you.” She said, but made no mention of her sister. She hadn’t the slightest idea of what her elder sister was up to.
Their conversation was only just starting to get underway when there was a loud crash, her blue gaze jerked to the scene unfolding just behind them. The young woman hesitated, her eyes widening in surprise and turning to horror as the men beside her were already beginning to move into action. Sara faltered as they left her behind to attend the priestess, her arms still full of her offerings, the fragrance of the flowers unable to dull the strong scent of wine.
Carefully, Sara began to make her way to the place where offerings were made. Her steps were light, trying not to make the same mistake that the other woman had. She lay down her things, whispering a quick word of apology to Artemis and making a vow to the goddess to come back and properly make her offering before turning back to the scene at hand. She was confident in her walk, surprisingly so as she knelt down between the two older men -- men who had decades of more experience than she did. Men who had likely known battle and had seen far more wounds than she would in her lifetime.
Her gaze swept over the situation, nodding and Nikolias’ assessment for linens. Blood and wine mixed at her feet but Sara quickly rescued her chiton from the cesspool -- only to pull it’s clean edge to the young priestess’ head. ”Head wounds always seem nastier than they are.” She explained in a steady voice. ”At least that’s what I’ve read.” She made no fuss about getting dirty, the years spent in her small patch of garden at the archtikonos having well cured her of any girly desires to be clean and spotless. She also had quite the experience in helping birth kittens, and that was a dirty business in itself.
She looked to Lord Gavril. ”Help me get her head here,” She directed, flushing before she amended. ”Please. It will be easier to hold this here until the other priestesses can come.” She would bet that they had heard the sound of the jug crashing to the floor, the dark vermilion liquid creeping slowly along the path that the goat’s blood was going as well. ”I think,” Sara began slowly. ”that she slipped here.” She said with a vague gesture to the messy floor. ”Easy enough to do. Blood is...quite slick.” Her shoulders gave a slight shudder, but her resolve held.
”Chaos indeed. Do you think...she’ll be alright?” She asked, sounding concerned. She was not sure which had made that awful sound, the jug hitting the floor or her head. She wiped the other woman’s face carefully, finding that little of the blood seemed to be her own. That was a relief in some regard, she supposed. Sara realized then that her hands were trembling of their own accord, her breaths short and shallow. Perhaps she was not as calm as she thought she had been.
She glanced up, noticing Lord Nikolias for the first time -- their time at the reflection pools had not been so long ago. She inclined her head in his direction, dark waves falling around her face briefly to shield her from view. They had spoken of chaos the last time that they had met, and she had to bite back a small grin. She certainly liked to invite chaos into her life it seemed. ”I am, thank you.” She said, but made no mention of her sister. She hadn’t the slightest idea of what her elder sister was up to.
Their conversation was only just starting to get underway when there was a loud crash, her blue gaze jerked to the scene unfolding just behind them. The young woman hesitated, her eyes widening in surprise and turning to horror as the men beside her were already beginning to move into action. Sara faltered as they left her behind to attend the priestess, her arms still full of her offerings, the fragrance of the flowers unable to dull the strong scent of wine.
Carefully, Sara began to make her way to the place where offerings were made. Her steps were light, trying not to make the same mistake that the other woman had. She lay down her things, whispering a quick word of apology to Artemis and making a vow to the goddess to come back and properly make her offering before turning back to the scene at hand. She was confident in her walk, surprisingly so as she knelt down between the two older men -- men who had decades of more experience than she did. Men who had likely known battle and had seen far more wounds than she would in her lifetime.
Her gaze swept over the situation, nodding and Nikolias’ assessment for linens. Blood and wine mixed at her feet but Sara quickly rescued her chiton from the cesspool -- only to pull it’s clean edge to the young priestess’ head. ”Head wounds always seem nastier than they are.” She explained in a steady voice. ”At least that’s what I’ve read.” She made no fuss about getting dirty, the years spent in her small patch of garden at the archtikonos having well cured her of any girly desires to be clean and spotless. She also had quite the experience in helping birth kittens, and that was a dirty business in itself.
She looked to Lord Gavril. ”Help me get her head here,” She directed, flushing before she amended. ”Please. It will be easier to hold this here until the other priestesses can come.” She would bet that they had heard the sound of the jug crashing to the floor, the dark vermilion liquid creeping slowly along the path that the goat’s blood was going as well. ”I think,” Sara began slowly. ”that she slipped here.” She said with a vague gesture to the messy floor. ”Easy enough to do. Blood is...quite slick.” Her shoulders gave a slight shudder, but her resolve held.
”Chaos indeed. Do you think...she’ll be alright?” She asked, sounding concerned. She was not sure which had made that awful sound, the jug hitting the floor or her head. She wiped the other woman’s face carefully, finding that little of the blood seemed to be her own. That was a relief in some regard, she supposed. Sara realized then that her hands were trembling of their own accord, her breaths short and shallow. Perhaps she was not as calm as she thought she had been.
Crouched down by the priestess, Gavriil did not look up when Nikolias joined him on one side. Nikolias was already calling for linen from someone but Gavriil did not look over at him. His gaze was still on the woman and trying to figure out if the blood was hers, from the goats, or if there was no blood at all but merely wine. Whichever was the case, it was best to act as though she was worse off than she was. All at once, Sara, whom he’d nearly forgotten about in the moment, squeezed herself between himself and Nikolias. Gavriil shifted away a fraction of an inch in order to give her room and watched with interest as she used the hem of her peplos to wipe carefully along the priestess’s face.
Gavriil looked up at the statue of Artemis who still stared blithely down at them. This was not the twin that healed, unfortunately. A vague bloom of approval blossomed in Gavriil’s chest as Sara displayed absolutely no disgust at the blood. His own daughters were the same. Dorothea, more so than Alexa, but even his youngest wouldn’t start at the sight of blood. It was too normal at the Dimitrou compound.
”Help me get her head here. Please. It will be easier to hold this here until the other priestesses can come.” Sara asked and Gavriil assisted in silence, sliding his thick fingers beneath the priestess’s slender neck and cradling her head gingerly against his palm. He might not be a master physician, but he knew enough about animals, he figured, and ran one finger along the girl’s spine against the back of her neck, feeling for any abnormalities. Thankfully, there were none. And like Sara, he did not believe most or any of this blood was hers.
”I think, that she slipped here.” Sara gestured to the line of slick blood from the goat. Gavriil grunted an assent, not quite willing to waste a ‘yes’ as though words were precious things. ”Easy enough to do. Blood is...quite slick.” If the girl was expecting conversation, it was going to have to come from Nikolias. Gavriil was in agreement of what she said but not really inclined to make idle comments on it and merely gave another of those gruff confirmations that he’d heard her.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a tall, slim, white clad figure, heard the sharp intake of breath, and then the slap of sandals moving away from them. The new priestess’s voice echoed as she called to the others to come help their fallen sister.
”Chaos indeed. Do you think...she’ll be alright?” Sara asked and Gavrill looked down then at the Priestess. Her chest rose and fell as though in a deep sleep.
“I believe so,” he said, tone grim. “She is breathing.” Though, he wasn’t a physician. She very well might not be alright. It was hard to say, but if she should die in so abrupt and unlikely a manner, he’d be very surprised. She’d have a nasty headache when she awoke, he suspected, and possibly have to dye this dress a completely different color due to its soaking in wine.
A flurry of white gowns and flowing hair entered the huge open space. Soft, pale arms fluttered and the priestesses of Artemis descended like birds, trying to figure out what had happened and if these three worshippers were the problem or the saviors. It was difficult to tell. Gavriil backed away, then, pulling Nikolias by the scruff with him. “Let’s get out of their way,” he said to his friend, knowing full well Nikolias would want to help.
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Crouched down by the priestess, Gavriil did not look up when Nikolias joined him on one side. Nikolias was already calling for linen from someone but Gavriil did not look over at him. His gaze was still on the woman and trying to figure out if the blood was hers, from the goats, or if there was no blood at all but merely wine. Whichever was the case, it was best to act as though she was worse off than she was. All at once, Sara, whom he’d nearly forgotten about in the moment, squeezed herself between himself and Nikolias. Gavriil shifted away a fraction of an inch in order to give her room and watched with interest as she used the hem of her peplos to wipe carefully along the priestess’s face.
Gavriil looked up at the statue of Artemis who still stared blithely down at them. This was not the twin that healed, unfortunately. A vague bloom of approval blossomed in Gavriil’s chest as Sara displayed absolutely no disgust at the blood. His own daughters were the same. Dorothea, more so than Alexa, but even his youngest wouldn’t start at the sight of blood. It was too normal at the Dimitrou compound.
”Help me get her head here. Please. It will be easier to hold this here until the other priestesses can come.” Sara asked and Gavriil assisted in silence, sliding his thick fingers beneath the priestess’s slender neck and cradling her head gingerly against his palm. He might not be a master physician, but he knew enough about animals, he figured, and ran one finger along the girl’s spine against the back of her neck, feeling for any abnormalities. Thankfully, there were none. And like Sara, he did not believe most or any of this blood was hers.
”I think, that she slipped here.” Sara gestured to the line of slick blood from the goat. Gavriil grunted an assent, not quite willing to waste a ‘yes’ as though words were precious things. ”Easy enough to do. Blood is...quite slick.” If the girl was expecting conversation, it was going to have to come from Nikolias. Gavriil was in agreement of what she said but not really inclined to make idle comments on it and merely gave another of those gruff confirmations that he’d heard her.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a tall, slim, white clad figure, heard the sharp intake of breath, and then the slap of sandals moving away from them. The new priestess’s voice echoed as she called to the others to come help their fallen sister.
”Chaos indeed. Do you think...she’ll be alright?” Sara asked and Gavrill looked down then at the Priestess. Her chest rose and fell as though in a deep sleep.
“I believe so,” he said, tone grim. “She is breathing.” Though, he wasn’t a physician. She very well might not be alright. It was hard to say, but if she should die in so abrupt and unlikely a manner, he’d be very surprised. She’d have a nasty headache when she awoke, he suspected, and possibly have to dye this dress a completely different color due to its soaking in wine.
A flurry of white gowns and flowing hair entered the huge open space. Soft, pale arms fluttered and the priestesses of Artemis descended like birds, trying to figure out what had happened and if these three worshippers were the problem or the saviors. It was difficult to tell. Gavriil backed away, then, pulling Nikolias by the scruff with him. “Let’s get out of their way,” he said to his friend, knowing full well Nikolias would want to help.
Crouched down by the priestess, Gavriil did not look up when Nikolias joined him on one side. Nikolias was already calling for linen from someone but Gavriil did not look over at him. His gaze was still on the woman and trying to figure out if the blood was hers, from the goats, or if there was no blood at all but merely wine. Whichever was the case, it was best to act as though she was worse off than she was. All at once, Sara, whom he’d nearly forgotten about in the moment, squeezed herself between himself and Nikolias. Gavriil shifted away a fraction of an inch in order to give her room and watched with interest as she used the hem of her peplos to wipe carefully along the priestess’s face.
Gavriil looked up at the statue of Artemis who still stared blithely down at them. This was not the twin that healed, unfortunately. A vague bloom of approval blossomed in Gavriil’s chest as Sara displayed absolutely no disgust at the blood. His own daughters were the same. Dorothea, more so than Alexa, but even his youngest wouldn’t start at the sight of blood. It was too normal at the Dimitrou compound.
”Help me get her head here. Please. It will be easier to hold this here until the other priestesses can come.” Sara asked and Gavriil assisted in silence, sliding his thick fingers beneath the priestess’s slender neck and cradling her head gingerly against his palm. He might not be a master physician, but he knew enough about animals, he figured, and ran one finger along the girl’s spine against the back of her neck, feeling for any abnormalities. Thankfully, there were none. And like Sara, he did not believe most or any of this blood was hers.
”I think, that she slipped here.” Sara gestured to the line of slick blood from the goat. Gavriil grunted an assent, not quite willing to waste a ‘yes’ as though words were precious things. ”Easy enough to do. Blood is...quite slick.” If the girl was expecting conversation, it was going to have to come from Nikolias. Gavriil was in agreement of what she said but not really inclined to make idle comments on it and merely gave another of those gruff confirmations that he’d heard her.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a tall, slim, white clad figure, heard the sharp intake of breath, and then the slap of sandals moving away from them. The new priestess’s voice echoed as she called to the others to come help their fallen sister.
”Chaos indeed. Do you think...she’ll be alright?” Sara asked and Gavrill looked down then at the Priestess. Her chest rose and fell as though in a deep sleep.
“I believe so,” he said, tone grim. “She is breathing.” Though, he wasn’t a physician. She very well might not be alright. It was hard to say, but if she should die in so abrupt and unlikely a manner, he’d be very surprised. She’d have a nasty headache when she awoke, he suspected, and possibly have to dye this dress a completely different color due to its soaking in wine.
A flurry of white gowns and flowing hair entered the huge open space. Soft, pale arms fluttered and the priestesses of Artemis descended like birds, trying to figure out what had happened and if these three worshippers were the problem or the saviors. It was difficult to tell. Gavriil backed away, then, pulling Nikolias by the scruff with him. “Let’s get out of their way,” he said to his friend, knowing full well Nikolias would want to help.
It did not take long at all for the commotion to be noticed, and for that Sara was grateful. The young woman whose head she held in her lap did not seem to be in pain, but it would be best if she could be checked over by a physician who could do more for her than just keeping her still and comfortable. Sara’s fingers were gentle against the woman’s cheeks, the other still wiping away the mess from her face. The chiton was surely ruined after this, but what was a piece of fabric compared to a moment of kindness?
”Breathing is good.” She said, glancing between the two men. The brunette grimaced, the faint feeling of nausea beginning to bubble up. She had dealt with blood and gore before, but not quite so much of it. It was one thing to help a mother cat birth some kittens, but this was a whole other matter. The other priestesses were a flurry of white, hushed tones and prayers as they descended to help their sister.
Sara was unable to get out of their way until they had lifted the injured woman and began to carry her away. It was not an easy task, but there were enough of them that they could manage it. Her arms had fallen to the side, hanging limply but there was nothing else that could be done. They had all done their best, given the circumstances.
Sara found herself sitting on her knees still, watching in concern until they had left -- not a single one offering to help her to her feet. It was fine, they were preoccupied with something far more important. She looked down at her ruined clothing, and gave a soft sigh as the tension of the situation had begun to leave her. This was most certainly not what she’d had in mind when she had risen this morning and made her way into the city to find suitable offerings. The flowers and honey were all but forgotten now.
Her fingers squelched in the mix of cooling blood and wine as she to her feet, the crimson liquids having mixed on the fabric of her clothes in a macabre display. Her head turned to look at Artemis, and she held her breath as the world twisted just a little too quickly. Please don’t hold my disgraceful appearance against me. She thought, somehow worried that she might offend the goddess with it.
She did not expect the sway of her body as she took a step towards Gavriil and Nikolias. Whether it was a combination of the nausea and her sudden movements to stand, the adrenaline that had surged starting to fade, or something else entirely she wasn’t sure but she reached out -- catching Gavriil’s arm in a bid to keep herself upright. She blinked, her lips parting to take an unsteady breath. ”I think I need to sit back down.” She said breathily, and then lurched sideways. How embarrassing, she thought, to be so strong in the midst of a crisis only to go down once it was all over.
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It did not take long at all for the commotion to be noticed, and for that Sara was grateful. The young woman whose head she held in her lap did not seem to be in pain, but it would be best if she could be checked over by a physician who could do more for her than just keeping her still and comfortable. Sara’s fingers were gentle against the woman’s cheeks, the other still wiping away the mess from her face. The chiton was surely ruined after this, but what was a piece of fabric compared to a moment of kindness?
”Breathing is good.” She said, glancing between the two men. The brunette grimaced, the faint feeling of nausea beginning to bubble up. She had dealt with blood and gore before, but not quite so much of it. It was one thing to help a mother cat birth some kittens, but this was a whole other matter. The other priestesses were a flurry of white, hushed tones and prayers as they descended to help their sister.
Sara was unable to get out of their way until they had lifted the injured woman and began to carry her away. It was not an easy task, but there were enough of them that they could manage it. Her arms had fallen to the side, hanging limply but there was nothing else that could be done. They had all done their best, given the circumstances.
Sara found herself sitting on her knees still, watching in concern until they had left -- not a single one offering to help her to her feet. It was fine, they were preoccupied with something far more important. She looked down at her ruined clothing, and gave a soft sigh as the tension of the situation had begun to leave her. This was most certainly not what she’d had in mind when she had risen this morning and made her way into the city to find suitable offerings. The flowers and honey were all but forgotten now.
Her fingers squelched in the mix of cooling blood and wine as she to her feet, the crimson liquids having mixed on the fabric of her clothes in a macabre display. Her head turned to look at Artemis, and she held her breath as the world twisted just a little too quickly. Please don’t hold my disgraceful appearance against me. She thought, somehow worried that she might offend the goddess with it.
She did not expect the sway of her body as she took a step towards Gavriil and Nikolias. Whether it was a combination of the nausea and her sudden movements to stand, the adrenaline that had surged starting to fade, or something else entirely she wasn’t sure but she reached out -- catching Gavriil’s arm in a bid to keep herself upright. She blinked, her lips parting to take an unsteady breath. ”I think I need to sit back down.” She said breathily, and then lurched sideways. How embarrassing, she thought, to be so strong in the midst of a crisis only to go down once it was all over.
It did not take long at all for the commotion to be noticed, and for that Sara was grateful. The young woman whose head she held in her lap did not seem to be in pain, but it would be best if she could be checked over by a physician who could do more for her than just keeping her still and comfortable. Sara’s fingers were gentle against the woman’s cheeks, the other still wiping away the mess from her face. The chiton was surely ruined after this, but what was a piece of fabric compared to a moment of kindness?
”Breathing is good.” She said, glancing between the two men. The brunette grimaced, the faint feeling of nausea beginning to bubble up. She had dealt with blood and gore before, but not quite so much of it. It was one thing to help a mother cat birth some kittens, but this was a whole other matter. The other priestesses were a flurry of white, hushed tones and prayers as they descended to help their sister.
Sara was unable to get out of their way until they had lifted the injured woman and began to carry her away. It was not an easy task, but there were enough of them that they could manage it. Her arms had fallen to the side, hanging limply but there was nothing else that could be done. They had all done their best, given the circumstances.
Sara found herself sitting on her knees still, watching in concern until they had left -- not a single one offering to help her to her feet. It was fine, they were preoccupied with something far more important. She looked down at her ruined clothing, and gave a soft sigh as the tension of the situation had begun to leave her. This was most certainly not what she’d had in mind when she had risen this morning and made her way into the city to find suitable offerings. The flowers and honey were all but forgotten now.
Her fingers squelched in the mix of cooling blood and wine as she to her feet, the crimson liquids having mixed on the fabric of her clothes in a macabre display. Her head turned to look at Artemis, and she held her breath as the world twisted just a little too quickly. Please don’t hold my disgraceful appearance against me. She thought, somehow worried that she might offend the goddess with it.
She did not expect the sway of her body as she took a step towards Gavriil and Nikolias. Whether it was a combination of the nausea and her sudden movements to stand, the adrenaline that had surged starting to fade, or something else entirely she wasn’t sure but she reached out -- catching Gavriil’s arm in a bid to keep herself upright. She blinked, her lips parting to take an unsteady breath. ”I think I need to sit back down.” She said breathily, and then lurched sideways. How embarrassing, she thought, to be so strong in the midst of a crisis only to go down once it was all over.
It bothered Nikolias to do nothing- what medical training he'd had almost seemed to scream to be used, if only in a bid to temporarily distract himself from the seriousness of the situation, Nikolias having his own fear of blood. But he also knew that while he was not inept, he was also perhaps not the absolute best person to be able to help the girl and make an accurate diagnosis of her condition. He stepped out of the way as much as he could, but watched closely, for Sara's sake as well. He admired the girl's willingness to help, but on the other hand, not knowing how much medical experience Sara had made her actions a bit risky, too, in his opinion.
He saw Sara's glance toward the statue of Artemis, and as best he could, he tried to guess how she might feel and put her at ease.
"I am relatively sure the goddess places greater value on your kind intentions than on your appearance," he tried to reassure her. "Who but Artemis knows whether or not you might also get a special blessing of some sort for helping her priestess?"
There were many in Taengea, no doubt, who could have used such a blessing at the time. But Nikolias couldn't help but feel that Sara, as Irakles' daughter, might be able to use it just a little bit more. And then, after the other women had carried their sister priestess away, it seemed that it was Sara who needed help.
"Easy now." Nikolias knew something of the physical discomfort Sara was probably feeling at the moment. He rushed as quickly as he could to help her, hoping to catch her before she hit the ground.
"Sit down slowly, if you can. Put your head between your knees and take deep breaths. It will help."
It still might not keep her from vomiting later- gods knew that Nikolias hadn't been able to hold it back after his first battle- but at least if she did get sick later, it might not happen until she got home.
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It bothered Nikolias to do nothing- what medical training he'd had almost seemed to scream to be used, if only in a bid to temporarily distract himself from the seriousness of the situation, Nikolias having his own fear of blood. But he also knew that while he was not inept, he was also perhaps not the absolute best person to be able to help the girl and make an accurate diagnosis of her condition. He stepped out of the way as much as he could, but watched closely, for Sara's sake as well. He admired the girl's willingness to help, but on the other hand, not knowing how much medical experience Sara had made her actions a bit risky, too, in his opinion.
He saw Sara's glance toward the statue of Artemis, and as best he could, he tried to guess how she might feel and put her at ease.
"I am relatively sure the goddess places greater value on your kind intentions than on your appearance," he tried to reassure her. "Who but Artemis knows whether or not you might also get a special blessing of some sort for helping her priestess?"
There were many in Taengea, no doubt, who could have used such a blessing at the time. But Nikolias couldn't help but feel that Sara, as Irakles' daughter, might be able to use it just a little bit more. And then, after the other women had carried their sister priestess away, it seemed that it was Sara who needed help.
"Easy now." Nikolias knew something of the physical discomfort Sara was probably feeling at the moment. He rushed as quickly as he could to help her, hoping to catch her before she hit the ground.
"Sit down slowly, if you can. Put your head between your knees and take deep breaths. It will help."
It still might not keep her from vomiting later- gods knew that Nikolias hadn't been able to hold it back after his first battle- but at least if she did get sick later, it might not happen until she got home.
It bothered Nikolias to do nothing- what medical training he'd had almost seemed to scream to be used, if only in a bid to temporarily distract himself from the seriousness of the situation, Nikolias having his own fear of blood. But he also knew that while he was not inept, he was also perhaps not the absolute best person to be able to help the girl and make an accurate diagnosis of her condition. He stepped out of the way as much as he could, but watched closely, for Sara's sake as well. He admired the girl's willingness to help, but on the other hand, not knowing how much medical experience Sara had made her actions a bit risky, too, in his opinion.
He saw Sara's glance toward the statue of Artemis, and as best he could, he tried to guess how she might feel and put her at ease.
"I am relatively sure the goddess places greater value on your kind intentions than on your appearance," he tried to reassure her. "Who but Artemis knows whether or not you might also get a special blessing of some sort for helping her priestess?"
There were many in Taengea, no doubt, who could have used such a blessing at the time. But Nikolias couldn't help but feel that Sara, as Irakles' daughter, might be able to use it just a little bit more. And then, after the other women had carried their sister priestess away, it seemed that it was Sara who needed help.
"Easy now." Nikolias knew something of the physical discomfort Sara was probably feeling at the moment. He rushed as quickly as he could to help her, hoping to catch her before she hit the ground.
"Sit down slowly, if you can. Put your head between your knees and take deep breaths. It will help."
It still might not keep her from vomiting later- gods knew that Nikolias hadn't been able to hold it back after his first battle- but at least if she did get sick later, it might not happen until she got home.
His gaze was on the priestess as she was borne away on the shoulders of her sisters. Like Sara, his attention then drifted to the goddess, who looked down on all of it with eyes of stone. He heaved a heavy sigh, standing solid and quiet while Nikolias practically radiated anxiety at his side. It wasn’t hard to guess why; coming to pray at Artemis’s temple was supposed to be a rather tranquil experience. One did not usually meet with blood from a person and a priestess passing out on the floor. Gavriil had kept in mind Nikolias’s dislike of blood but other than being the very slightest bit pale, the Condos lord seemed fine. It was the girl that Gavriil turned to next.
As he did, he found her looking every bit as pale and shaken, if not more so, than Nikolias. Nikolias who, it turned out, had noted her color too. In his usual way, Nikolias was trying to use his words to soothe her but Sara didn’t much appear to be listening. Her expression was vague and consistent with someone in shock. Gavriil had seen the look on human and animal alike.
”I think I need to sit back down.” Sara’s voice was soft and faint. He and Nikolias moved at the same time, but he was closer and his arm slid around the girl’s waist just as she pitched sideways. It was easy to do. Her hand was already on his arm and it was a simple matter of catching her with one arm at the center of her back and the other under her knees. She was so slight and small that he bore her up quickly. She very much reminded him of his daughter Alexa, with her dark hair and bright eyes and he felt the same sort of paternal concern.
There was a stone bench not far from where the three of them were clustered together. Gavriil took her over to it and set her upright, though he kept himself near to her in case she should slump over. “Where is your mother?” he asked her once he was fairly sure she was listening. “Can we send someone to fetch her?” He couldn’t imagine his own daughter fainting somewhere and not being made aware of it as soon as possible. Though he thought Meena to be the very worst sort of person, she was a parent, the same as he was, and he would rather her know of Sara’s predicament than not.
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His gaze was on the priestess as she was borne away on the shoulders of her sisters. Like Sara, his attention then drifted to the goddess, who looked down on all of it with eyes of stone. He heaved a heavy sigh, standing solid and quiet while Nikolias practically radiated anxiety at his side. It wasn’t hard to guess why; coming to pray at Artemis’s temple was supposed to be a rather tranquil experience. One did not usually meet with blood from a person and a priestess passing out on the floor. Gavriil had kept in mind Nikolias’s dislike of blood but other than being the very slightest bit pale, the Condos lord seemed fine. It was the girl that Gavriil turned to next.
As he did, he found her looking every bit as pale and shaken, if not more so, than Nikolias. Nikolias who, it turned out, had noted her color too. In his usual way, Nikolias was trying to use his words to soothe her but Sara didn’t much appear to be listening. Her expression was vague and consistent with someone in shock. Gavriil had seen the look on human and animal alike.
”I think I need to sit back down.” Sara’s voice was soft and faint. He and Nikolias moved at the same time, but he was closer and his arm slid around the girl’s waist just as she pitched sideways. It was easy to do. Her hand was already on his arm and it was a simple matter of catching her with one arm at the center of her back and the other under her knees. She was so slight and small that he bore her up quickly. She very much reminded him of his daughter Alexa, with her dark hair and bright eyes and he felt the same sort of paternal concern.
There was a stone bench not far from where the three of them were clustered together. Gavriil took her over to it and set her upright, though he kept himself near to her in case she should slump over. “Where is your mother?” he asked her once he was fairly sure she was listening. “Can we send someone to fetch her?” He couldn’t imagine his own daughter fainting somewhere and not being made aware of it as soon as possible. Though he thought Meena to be the very worst sort of person, she was a parent, the same as he was, and he would rather her know of Sara’s predicament than not.
His gaze was on the priestess as she was borne away on the shoulders of her sisters. Like Sara, his attention then drifted to the goddess, who looked down on all of it with eyes of stone. He heaved a heavy sigh, standing solid and quiet while Nikolias practically radiated anxiety at his side. It wasn’t hard to guess why; coming to pray at Artemis’s temple was supposed to be a rather tranquil experience. One did not usually meet with blood from a person and a priestess passing out on the floor. Gavriil had kept in mind Nikolias’s dislike of blood but other than being the very slightest bit pale, the Condos lord seemed fine. It was the girl that Gavriil turned to next.
As he did, he found her looking every bit as pale and shaken, if not more so, than Nikolias. Nikolias who, it turned out, had noted her color too. In his usual way, Nikolias was trying to use his words to soothe her but Sara didn’t much appear to be listening. Her expression was vague and consistent with someone in shock. Gavriil had seen the look on human and animal alike.
”I think I need to sit back down.” Sara’s voice was soft and faint. He and Nikolias moved at the same time, but he was closer and his arm slid around the girl’s waist just as she pitched sideways. It was easy to do. Her hand was already on his arm and it was a simple matter of catching her with one arm at the center of her back and the other under her knees. She was so slight and small that he bore her up quickly. She very much reminded him of his daughter Alexa, with her dark hair and bright eyes and he felt the same sort of paternal concern.
There was a stone bench not far from where the three of them were clustered together. Gavriil took her over to it and set her upright, though he kept himself near to her in case she should slump over. “Where is your mother?” he asked her once he was fairly sure she was listening. “Can we send someone to fetch her?” He couldn’t imagine his own daughter fainting somewhere and not being made aware of it as soon as possible. Though he thought Meena to be the very worst sort of person, she was a parent, the same as he was, and he would rather her know of Sara’s predicament than not.
She was only briefly aware of being scooped up, surprised by it more than anything else as Gavriil picked her up as if she weighed little more than a child. She supposed that she was still a child in many ways and she was fairly sure that the Lord had a daughter fairly close to her age. Nikolias was a parent as well, and there was a strange tugging on her heart as both of the men expressed such fatherly concerns over her. Her throat tightened, tears threatening the corners of her eyes. She could not remember a time like this with Irakles, despite his gruff kindness.
When was the last time that he’d held her in such a familiar way? She had a distant, vague memory of being a very small girl and forcing her way into his lap -- bringing him a book that he’d refused to read to her, but neither had he put her out of his lap while he read a couple of letters. She’d fallen asleep fairly quickly, the smell of him bringing her comfort while the rustling of paper had lulled her to sleep. When she had awakened, she was with her nursemaid again -- sure she had imagined the whole thing.
She let out a breath as Gavriil carefully deposited her on a stone bench. She gripped the sides firmly, determined to hold herself upright as she closed her eyes and tried to breathe exclusively through her mouth so that she was not so overwhelmed by her sense of smell. She risked a peek at Nikolias, his advice practical but she was not so sure that she could get her knees up on the bench without falling over. She tried to give him what she hoped was a reassuring smile.
”I’ll be okay in just a moment. I think…” She took another deep breath through her mouth. ”I think it was just all the excitement.”
When Gavriil inquired about her mother, and having someone sent someone to fetch her -- the girl looked up too quickly and had to close her eyes. She shook her head slowly. ”N-no, not my mother please.” Her voice quivered, but she did not want Meena involved if she could help it. The older woman was always ashamed to have such a soft daughter, and this would only cause her further embarrassment and shame. It was certainly going to reach her one way or another. ”I’ll be fine, I promise.” She grinned sheepishly, weakly.
After several minutes, the young woman sat a little straighter. ”Thank you both. I am sorry to be so...weak.” She offered. ”Please, do not feel like you should stay on my account. I should be fine from here…” She looked down at her bloody chiton. How unfortunate, as the earthy green was one of her favorites. She was going to look like quite a sight, walking home such a bloody mess.
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She was only briefly aware of being scooped up, surprised by it more than anything else as Gavriil picked her up as if she weighed little more than a child. She supposed that she was still a child in many ways and she was fairly sure that the Lord had a daughter fairly close to her age. Nikolias was a parent as well, and there was a strange tugging on her heart as both of the men expressed such fatherly concerns over her. Her throat tightened, tears threatening the corners of her eyes. She could not remember a time like this with Irakles, despite his gruff kindness.
When was the last time that he’d held her in such a familiar way? She had a distant, vague memory of being a very small girl and forcing her way into his lap -- bringing him a book that he’d refused to read to her, but neither had he put her out of his lap while he read a couple of letters. She’d fallen asleep fairly quickly, the smell of him bringing her comfort while the rustling of paper had lulled her to sleep. When she had awakened, she was with her nursemaid again -- sure she had imagined the whole thing.
She let out a breath as Gavriil carefully deposited her on a stone bench. She gripped the sides firmly, determined to hold herself upright as she closed her eyes and tried to breathe exclusively through her mouth so that she was not so overwhelmed by her sense of smell. She risked a peek at Nikolias, his advice practical but she was not so sure that she could get her knees up on the bench without falling over. She tried to give him what she hoped was a reassuring smile.
”I’ll be okay in just a moment. I think…” She took another deep breath through her mouth. ”I think it was just all the excitement.”
When Gavriil inquired about her mother, and having someone sent someone to fetch her -- the girl looked up too quickly and had to close her eyes. She shook her head slowly. ”N-no, not my mother please.” Her voice quivered, but she did not want Meena involved if she could help it. The older woman was always ashamed to have such a soft daughter, and this would only cause her further embarrassment and shame. It was certainly going to reach her one way or another. ”I’ll be fine, I promise.” She grinned sheepishly, weakly.
After several minutes, the young woman sat a little straighter. ”Thank you both. I am sorry to be so...weak.” She offered. ”Please, do not feel like you should stay on my account. I should be fine from here…” She looked down at her bloody chiton. How unfortunate, as the earthy green was one of her favorites. She was going to look like quite a sight, walking home such a bloody mess.
She was only briefly aware of being scooped up, surprised by it more than anything else as Gavriil picked her up as if she weighed little more than a child. She supposed that she was still a child in many ways and she was fairly sure that the Lord had a daughter fairly close to her age. Nikolias was a parent as well, and there was a strange tugging on her heart as both of the men expressed such fatherly concerns over her. Her throat tightened, tears threatening the corners of her eyes. She could not remember a time like this with Irakles, despite his gruff kindness.
When was the last time that he’d held her in such a familiar way? She had a distant, vague memory of being a very small girl and forcing her way into his lap -- bringing him a book that he’d refused to read to her, but neither had he put her out of his lap while he read a couple of letters. She’d fallen asleep fairly quickly, the smell of him bringing her comfort while the rustling of paper had lulled her to sleep. When she had awakened, she was with her nursemaid again -- sure she had imagined the whole thing.
She let out a breath as Gavriil carefully deposited her on a stone bench. She gripped the sides firmly, determined to hold herself upright as she closed her eyes and tried to breathe exclusively through her mouth so that she was not so overwhelmed by her sense of smell. She risked a peek at Nikolias, his advice practical but she was not so sure that she could get her knees up on the bench without falling over. She tried to give him what she hoped was a reassuring smile.
”I’ll be okay in just a moment. I think…” She took another deep breath through her mouth. ”I think it was just all the excitement.”
When Gavriil inquired about her mother, and having someone sent someone to fetch her -- the girl looked up too quickly and had to close her eyes. She shook her head slowly. ”N-no, not my mother please.” Her voice quivered, but she did not want Meena involved if she could help it. The older woman was always ashamed to have such a soft daughter, and this would only cause her further embarrassment and shame. It was certainly going to reach her one way or another. ”I’ll be fine, I promise.” She grinned sheepishly, weakly.
After several minutes, the young woman sat a little straighter. ”Thank you both. I am sorry to be so...weak.” She offered. ”Please, do not feel like you should stay on my account. I should be fine from here…” She looked down at her bloody chiton. How unfortunate, as the earthy green was one of her favorites. She was going to look like quite a sight, walking home such a bloody mess.
He nearly reached out to steady her when she looked up at him. The wave of dizziness was practically visible in the expression on her face and the tensing of her limbs, with that white knuckled grip on the edges of the bench. However, she recovered herself remarkably well and he dropped his hand back to his own lap again, though still frowned. Gavriil’s face was not one that was built for smiling. It was built for scowling and he did it well. There was a sharpness to his features and to his personality, but not necessarily piercing. He was more like a gruff, wild thing of the forest; timeless and unknowable, etched like ancient trees. He sat that way beside her for a long time, not moving except to either assess how she was handling herself or to watch what the priestesses were doing about the blood and wine still all over the floor.
Beyond them, a flurry of activity waged as women pushed rags across the floor to dry up the liquid and then used buckets with clean water to further clean it. Servants might come soon to finish up the job. Meanwhile, more worshipers were trickling in and standing around, unsure where to either leave their sacrifices or their gifts. They were pulled to the side by the head priestess, who seemed to have everything well in hand. Gavriil looked back to Sara as she begged not to have Meena involved at all. Gavriil’s frown deepened, but he didn’t push. She was of age and she also wasn’t his daughter. He wouldn’t force the issue, of course, but he did disapprove a bit. Given his own status as a parent, he knew he’d rather know than not.
”Thank you both. I am sorry to be so...weak,” Sara began after another few minutes had elapsed. Gavriil had been staring at the marble wall across from them, studying the veins of rock and thinking about nothing in particular. He looked at her now, arching one brow. She’d been anything but weak, in his estimation, anyway. Even Nikolias wasn’t good with blood, though Gavriil wasn’t going to give the other man away like that. ”Please, do not feel like you should stay on my account. I should be fine from here…”
That reminded Gavriil that he actually did have somewhere to be. He was supposed to be meeting one of his tenanates at the market and he rose from the bench. “If you’re sure,” he checked and then looked to Nikolias. Silently he inclined his head towards the girl, asking without asking for Nikolias to possibly walk Sara home. That way she wasn’t left completely on her own. He’d do it, except that he was already very late.
“I expect word from you to be sent to my estate when you’re home and well,” he said, perfectly serious. Perhaps he couldn’t resist being a little overbearing and papa-bearish...it was a habit he needed to break. After that, he gave her a nod, Nikolias a nod as well, and walked out of the shade of the temple and into the warm, all encompassing sunlight towards the market.
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This character is currently a work in progress.
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He nearly reached out to steady her when she looked up at him. The wave of dizziness was practically visible in the expression on her face and the tensing of her limbs, with that white knuckled grip on the edges of the bench. However, she recovered herself remarkably well and he dropped his hand back to his own lap again, though still frowned. Gavriil’s face was not one that was built for smiling. It was built for scowling and he did it well. There was a sharpness to his features and to his personality, but not necessarily piercing. He was more like a gruff, wild thing of the forest; timeless and unknowable, etched like ancient trees. He sat that way beside her for a long time, not moving except to either assess how she was handling herself or to watch what the priestesses were doing about the blood and wine still all over the floor.
Beyond them, a flurry of activity waged as women pushed rags across the floor to dry up the liquid and then used buckets with clean water to further clean it. Servants might come soon to finish up the job. Meanwhile, more worshipers were trickling in and standing around, unsure where to either leave their sacrifices or their gifts. They were pulled to the side by the head priestess, who seemed to have everything well in hand. Gavriil looked back to Sara as she begged not to have Meena involved at all. Gavriil’s frown deepened, but he didn’t push. She was of age and she also wasn’t his daughter. He wouldn’t force the issue, of course, but he did disapprove a bit. Given his own status as a parent, he knew he’d rather know than not.
”Thank you both. I am sorry to be so...weak,” Sara began after another few minutes had elapsed. Gavriil had been staring at the marble wall across from them, studying the veins of rock and thinking about nothing in particular. He looked at her now, arching one brow. She’d been anything but weak, in his estimation, anyway. Even Nikolias wasn’t good with blood, though Gavriil wasn’t going to give the other man away like that. ”Please, do not feel like you should stay on my account. I should be fine from here…”
That reminded Gavriil that he actually did have somewhere to be. He was supposed to be meeting one of his tenanates at the market and he rose from the bench. “If you’re sure,” he checked and then looked to Nikolias. Silently he inclined his head towards the girl, asking without asking for Nikolias to possibly walk Sara home. That way she wasn’t left completely on her own. He’d do it, except that he was already very late.
“I expect word from you to be sent to my estate when you’re home and well,” he said, perfectly serious. Perhaps he couldn’t resist being a little overbearing and papa-bearish...it was a habit he needed to break. After that, he gave her a nod, Nikolias a nod as well, and walked out of the shade of the temple and into the warm, all encompassing sunlight towards the market.
He nearly reached out to steady her when she looked up at him. The wave of dizziness was practically visible in the expression on her face and the tensing of her limbs, with that white knuckled grip on the edges of the bench. However, she recovered herself remarkably well and he dropped his hand back to his own lap again, though still frowned. Gavriil’s face was not one that was built for smiling. It was built for scowling and he did it well. There was a sharpness to his features and to his personality, but not necessarily piercing. He was more like a gruff, wild thing of the forest; timeless and unknowable, etched like ancient trees. He sat that way beside her for a long time, not moving except to either assess how she was handling herself or to watch what the priestesses were doing about the blood and wine still all over the floor.
Beyond them, a flurry of activity waged as women pushed rags across the floor to dry up the liquid and then used buckets with clean water to further clean it. Servants might come soon to finish up the job. Meanwhile, more worshipers were trickling in and standing around, unsure where to either leave their sacrifices or their gifts. They were pulled to the side by the head priestess, who seemed to have everything well in hand. Gavriil looked back to Sara as she begged not to have Meena involved at all. Gavriil’s frown deepened, but he didn’t push. She was of age and she also wasn’t his daughter. He wouldn’t force the issue, of course, but he did disapprove a bit. Given his own status as a parent, he knew he’d rather know than not.
”Thank you both. I am sorry to be so...weak,” Sara began after another few minutes had elapsed. Gavriil had been staring at the marble wall across from them, studying the veins of rock and thinking about nothing in particular. He looked at her now, arching one brow. She’d been anything but weak, in his estimation, anyway. Even Nikolias wasn’t good with blood, though Gavriil wasn’t going to give the other man away like that. ”Please, do not feel like you should stay on my account. I should be fine from here…”
That reminded Gavriil that he actually did have somewhere to be. He was supposed to be meeting one of his tenanates at the market and he rose from the bench. “If you’re sure,” he checked and then looked to Nikolias. Silently he inclined his head towards the girl, asking without asking for Nikolias to possibly walk Sara home. That way she wasn’t left completely on her own. He’d do it, except that he was already very late.
“I expect word from you to be sent to my estate when you’re home and well,” he said, perfectly serious. Perhaps he couldn’t resist being a little overbearing and papa-bearish...it was a habit he needed to break. After that, he gave her a nod, Nikolias a nod as well, and walked out of the shade of the temple and into the warm, all encompassing sunlight towards the market.