The Mother's Temple
Amidst the flash and grandeur of some of the more showy temples sits the Mother's Temple of Citadel. A wide low building plainly shaped and missing much of the decoration apparent in the other places of worship, the Temple is constructed of the heavy gray stone that seems to be found everywhere on the isle. The workmanship is of such quality that there are no visible seams: the Temple appears one great, vaguely mound-shaped stone of various blended shades of gray.
The entrance is a wide open archway leading into an antechamber. The doors to the great chapel within are a wonder to behold: seemingly an infinite variety of woods and metals have been blended into an abstract, but comforting pattern decorating the two large doors.
Within is a large open chapel with a low ceiling. Rows of wooden benches provide seating for the large number of commoners, mostly women, that come here seeking the blessing and comfort of the Mother. A warm glow from several large oil lanterns provides both light and dancing shadows along the walls. Simple but well-crafted friezes depicting the various events associated with the Mother - planting, tending and harvest of the fields, fertility and childbirth, and gardening - to name a few.
Doorways lead off to the sides - perhaps into the separate chapel rumored to exist for the use of the Citadel's wealthier women; perhaps into the gardens and elemental shrines that are spoken of in whispers by those few devout worshippers who have been invited within. The Temple is pleasantly warm within in contrast to the chill weather that seems to have gripped the city outside. All in all, it is a sober, comforting atmosphere.
Deianeira exhaled. Looking up into the main chapel of the Temple of the Mother, Deia cleared her mind. She was less than worried, she could always return home if things didn't pan out and she was allowed to go home,if she hadn't found a house, but it worried her. Her world had been in a sort of muddy slide since early that morning.
"You're leaving!" Her mother's voice- one not often heard in the house- was loud, and angry but it rang true. Deianeira nodded. "I am, mother I can't continue to... be here at home, trying to be your little doll. I am nineteen and need to find my own way!"
Deianeira shook her head. She'd be angry at her mother when she stormed out early that morning, angry, fumming and hot headed. She had some money left to herself, and had come to the temple, hoping for advice. She looked around trying to find a priestess, someone, anyone to air her thoughts and complaints with.