credo in deum. Who: Peony Min & Divina Marcos What: A second encounter. Where: The Grande Cathedral. When: Yesterday (Sunday), backdated. Rating: P for Peony. Status: Complete.
Peony preferred to attend the first mass of the morning on Sundays. She was an early riser regardless, but that was not the only reason -- the earlier service was often less crowded, and prior to its start, the sanctuary of the cathedral was nearly empty. She often arrived half an hour early to spend time in contemplation and prayer. It helped to refresh her for the day and week ahead, and she found she was more receptive to the homily when she had thus prepared her mind to hear it.
Later in the day, various acolytes would be present in the sanctuary to pass out votives and solicit donations. This early, there was only the counter near the entrance, with a basket for freewill gil donations and stacks of white candles free for the taking. She dropped twenty-five gil in the basket before selecting her candles, which she would place on the altars of various patron saints within the sanctuary: one for her father’s continued health, one each for Pyr and Sky’s perseverance in their intensified training, one for Siana to give her insight and clarity of mind, one for Quenten for scholarly success.
As the mage did this, a lone figure entered the sanctuary. The elderly husband and wife—the only other visitors, at present—exchanged horrified glances and, without further ado, made their hurried leave. Evidently, Divina had eschewed the cloak and dagger this morning. Dressed in half-plate (leather, not onyx), the fell knight turned to the counter. Fifty gil went into the basket. Hurriedly, she began to take the first five candles she saw.
On the third, her hand brushed against another person’s. She withdrew the hand and looked up. It was not a face she recognised immediately. And so she returned her gaze to the candles, picking out another two from a few columns of candles away.
“Excuse me,” Peony murmured automatically before looking at the woman who now stood next to her. Her face was… striking, somehow familiar, but at first she could not place it. Then she remembered, all of a sudden -- the errant veil, the strange encounter on the cathedral steps all those months ago. She was in armor now, no longer wearing the guise of a lady, but her face had not changed.
Peony had always been good at remembering faces.
She said nothing, however. This was not the place to renew the acquaintance, as brief as it had been. Having selected her final candle, she nodded agreeably to the woman who had bristled so at her the last time they had met and headed for the sanctuary proper. She knelt at the arched doorway before entering, then made her way to the first of the altars she had already selected to light the first of her candles, breathe in the scent of wax and incense and -- no matter how diligently the cathedral was cleaned -- dust.
Divina’s first altar was at the opposite end of the sanctuary. Upon which was lit a candle for Morgayne Falk. As the knight prayed for her new squire, she found herself grappling with emotions as fierce as they were unfamiliar. To her surprise, they were not unwelcome, either.
But she wasted no time contemplating them as she moved on to the next altar. This time was uttered a prayer for Li. What would he think of her praying for him, she wondered as she finished, not for the first time. Yet once more Divina preferred action to reflection. Shrugging off the speculations, she strode over to her third altar.
It seemed threes were the order of the day. The knight arrived at the altar just as the mage did. Divina scowled but stepped back to let the mage use the altar before her.
Still on her second candle -- the first had taken her some time as she prayed for Siana -- Peony was once again faced with the woman from earlier, who had a rather displeased expression upon her face. It seemed she had not yet found the serenity that the house of Faram was meant to bring.
The stranger also had only three candles in hand now, which meant she had been making her way through the altars a great deal faster than Peony had; with that in mind, Peony stepped aside, smiled. “Please go ahead of me,” she offered. A few moments to formulate her thoughts would not go amiss, and there was no rush, for she intended to stay for the service, and there was quite some time yet before it began.
Had she not been rushing, Divina would have stubbornly insisted upon the other woman’s right of way. But she bowed her head curtly, moving toward the altar to pray. The beneficiary of this particular prayer would find himself shortchanged, for the well-wishes were rattled off as swiftly and efficiently as possible. The mage did not have to wait long before Divina stepped back and swept off to an altar further down the aisle.
Peony stepped in with her own candles -- two, this time, for her brothers -- and took several minutes at the altar. However, when she moved on to the next, there was the woman again, just finishing. Peony waited her turn, wondering at the coincidence, standing a ways back until the fighter stepped away from the altar before she moved in to take her place.
When the same thing happened at her final altar for the morning, however, she could not help a soft laugh under her breath. Sometimes, Faram was quite pointed in His influence of the world around them; it seemed she was to speak to this woman today one way or another. “I do apologize,” she said, her last candle still in hand, “for the way I appear to be trailing you; it does seem as though Faram has a sense of humor. Our thoughts appear to be… similarly inclined this morning.” A pause, then, “I do not believe we exchanged names, the last time we met. Peony Min.”
The last prayer had been the most meaningful, and so it was with a somewhat startled glance that Divina turned to Peony. For a moment, her jaw tightened. She knew what to expect of the more devout Pharists, for whom piety and bigotry came hand-in-hand. But, hopes of goodwill for her mother still circulating among her thoughts, Divina exhaled.
“Via,” she offered, and then reflected upon the name that she had been given. Peony Min—Aspel had mentioned it before, during the mission in the Outlands. Min was also the last name of the squire she had been training of late. There were some similarities in the woman’s and the boy’s features, but the fell was not about to jump to conclusions.
“A pleasure.” While not friendly, the woman’s expression had seemed to thaw a fraction. Peony smiled pleasantly enough for the both of them. The name was not familiar, but that meant little; Emillion was a very large city, and Peony knew few fighters outside those with whom she had worked. She noted the lack of surname, too but did not question. Some people chose not to give one upon introduction, and their reasons for doing so could be quite varied.
She did not ask about the candles, of course; for all their thoughts seemed to be running eerily in parallel this morning, it would be intolerably rude to pry into something so private. She held her father’s candle close to her chest, nodded her head, and said only, “May Faram hear and answer your prayers.” The only wish she could offer to a relative stranger with worries similar to her own.
“Ah.” Divina stood aside to allow Peony the use of the altar. “And yours.”