bastian kelmendir is probably chilly (heiau) wrote in emillion, @ 2013-12-31 17:24:00 |
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Entry tags: | !complete, !log, lionel baines, sebastian kelmendir |
Who: Bastian Kelmendir and Lionel Baines
What: The beginning of a beautiful friendship.
Where: The Grand Cathedral, Emillion
When: A few days before Faram's Mass
Rating: G
Status: Complete!
Knowledge is power; it was a cliché, but to the monks of the Sons of the Sisters, it was a prime value. Knowledge from the world beyond Kolokaui would help them to be better servants -- both to the goddesses and to their people. The entire point of this global pilgrimage was to be students of the world. Bastian's mission in Emillion, such as it was, was to learn about Pharism. If he were being completely honest with himself, he would have to admit he had not worked very hard at this assignment thus far in his stay. To be sure, he had… fraternized with Pharists (and had spent a good amount of time trying to catch the eye of one Pharist in particular), but having an ale and a smooch with a handsome stranger was not exactly the same thing as investigating the dogma and divine practices of a foreign culture. And so he had come to the Grand Cathedral, hoping to find some useful introductory texts, and perhaps a companion to advise him in their use. If he painted a strange picture -- a man of vaguely foreign extraction, shirtless in the height of winter, rifling loudly through one of the holy books -- he seemed not to be aware of it. Lionel, on the other hand, immediately zeroed in on the man’s peculiar appearance. He stuck out like a shock of color in a sea of beige, his odd outfit especially noticeable—not to mention inappropriate—amongst the heavy robes of the mages scurrying about. His eyes narrowed as he studied him, trying to place his country of origin. The blue mage’s eyes narrowed as he studied him, trying to place his country of origin. Ordalian? It had to be Ordalian. After a moment of rather conspicuous observation, Lionel made his way over to the stranger’s table, his mouth already curved into a friendly smile. As off-putting as the man’s appearance was (seriously, it was freezing outside, where was his shirt?), Lionel couldn’t bring himself to be rude. “Er, hello!” His smile widened. “I haven’t seen you around here before. Are you… new to the city?” "Oh, greetings!" Bastian looked up from his reading and smiled brightly at the approaching mage. "I am called Bastian Kelmendir. I am being somewhat new to your fair city, yes." He took a moment to take stock of the other man. Lionel was quite handsome, and Bastian quietly found himself marveling at the surplus of comely men within the walls of Emillion. It would not do to be presumptuous in this, a house of worship, however -- one of the few things Bastian had gleaned about Pharism was that its adherents were somewhat less free with their affections than he was accustomed to being. So he made no mention of the blue mage's handsome face, and instead decided to launch immediately into his reason for being at the church. "I am being a brother of the Sons of the Sisters, from Kolokaui far away. I am hoping to be learning more about the ways of the Pharists, the better to be enlightening my countrymen. Are you a servant of the faith, sir?" “Kolokaui! I’ve been there,” Lionel replied eagerly, his face lighting up. A matronly looking mage turned around in her seat to give the duo an unamused look; he responded with the most apologetic smile in his arsenal, but he still looked very much like an overgrown puppy, brimming with energy and overly excited at the prospect of meeting someone new. He turned his gaze back to Bastian, his expression warm. The man’s appearance made more sense now, although the mage wasn’t sure why someone hadn’t taken him to the Bazaar to get proper winter clothes yet. “And, er, yes, I’m devoted to Faram, but I don’t work for the church in any official capacity.” "You have?!" Bastian's delight was evident. "You are the first such traveler I am encountering in my stay here." To most, it had been a curiosity that merited only blank stares. Raol had at least heard of the place, but apart from 'tropical, right?' he hadn't had much to say on the subject. This was different! This was very exciting. "Were you going there as a missionary? That is the only way we are meeting Pharists, usually." "I confess," he said after a moment, nodding politely to the mage-matron they had offended with their effusive chatter, "I am not understanding much of the ways of your faith yet. Where I am from we are all serving in an 'official capacity.'" “I—a missionary of sorts, yes. The Disciples are more than a missionary group, though.” Lionel’s smile faltered a bit, and he nervously raked a hand through his dark curls. The group’s trip to the tropics hadn’t been, well, very successful. The Disciples had done their level best to introduce the good people of Kolokaui to Pharism, but it didn’t take. At all. They believed in many gods, and all of them were tied to nature in some way. Lionel found it all very silly. “Well,” he continued, his tone careful, “most of the people of Emillion are followers of Faram. But there are only a few employed by the Church: church mages, priests, nuns, the Silver Blades. Oh, and there are bishops. And the Cardinal, he speaks for Faram,” he added quickly, his voice full of reverence. “I’m sorry, I know that’s a very confusing explanation.” "It is not too confusing, though I must be saying I think it is strange that your god is speaking through any human at all. Especially a god who is to be everything, yes? To be all gods entire, himself alone. How can a human know such a mind?" This didn't seem like a challenge so much as a legitimate inquiry borne from real interest. "Please be forgiving me, I think I am being confused in terms. We are having priests, back home," Bastian said, thinking. "My mother is a priest." He smiled. "But then in official religious business it is only being us," -- a broad gesture at himself, at this -- "the Sons. Everyone else is being called to serve the goddesses in his or her own way, but they are not coming to the temples except for worship. You are being like this? Devoted to your god, but not a priest?" It was a line of questioning that normally would have rankled Lionel, but Bastian’s curiosity seemed genuine and earnest. “Yes, exactly like that,” he replied, returning Bastian’s smile with a small one of his own. He unconsciously reached for the silver cross around his neck, running his thumb along the cool metal. He should introduce Bastian to Amos, he thought, but in the interim— “Do you mind if I take a seat?” Lionel asked, but he was already halfway settled in the chair across from the monk. This wasn’t going to be a brief conversation, not if he was going to try to explain the basic tenets of Pharism to a foreigner. “Oh, I almost forgot,” and the blue mage leaned forward across the table, extending a hand. “I’m Lionel Baines. It’s a pleasure to meet you.” "No, I am not minding a tall!" Bastian said brightly, gesturing to the chair as Lionel sat in it. He reached out to grasp the blue mage's hand firmly when it was offered. "It is very good to be meeting you, Lionel Baines." The monk smiled, a dazzling display of white teeth, and then settled in for a long and hopefully elucidative conversation with, he hoped, a new friend. |