I feel a miracle in every breath I breathe - Jy 31st ET

[Ashari]

[i]Jy 31st ET - 3rd Mark[i]

Amidst the flash and grandeur of some of the more showy temples sits the Mother's Temple of the 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 rumoured 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.

There was a reason Ashari had left this to be the last thing she'd do before heading to Thalas Manse to do some private training with Aerin, but what that reason was, Ash kept close to her chest. The other thing that was close to her chest was a sparkling diamond necklace. She wore a long, typically Imperial dress in coppery green tone with metallic flecks through the soft fabric. Her hair had been in an elegant updo, but now her hair cascaded down her shoulders and flowed over her back.

She found her way over to a young acolyte, she had no need for a priestess. "Can you take me to your healing ward?" Ashari asked with an even expression that didn't give away any emotions - be they good or bad. The mage has some things in mind. "To the area with the injured, please, not the sick." There was a temptation to mindcraft this simple creature, but she held it in check knowing she wanted to save her power for the task at hand.

[Meridiuz]

The acolyte looked at Ashari with her bright green eyes, a little surprised by her request. It took her a flicker to think about why someone would ask to specifically see the injured, not the sick. "Of course, m'lady", she said and gestured towards one of the doorways to the left. "Please follow me."

They walked into a small long hallway and approached a closed door. As the acolyte paused to open the door, she asked the question that was the most logical in her mind. "You know someone here that has been injured?" When the door was open, she continued to walk through another hallway until they came at a T-section. On both sides there were doors. To the right, Ashari could hear the moans and screams of many people, waning in their pain. To the left, it was much more quiet, no sounds of agony came from there. That was also the door that they went through to walk into another hallway, which would lead to the room where the injured people were. The Acolyte thought it would be handy to know for whom she was looking, before reaching that point, which is why she had asked the question.

[Ashari]

"Of course," Ash said as she took up right behind the young acolyte who proceeded her down the hall. Once they'd reached the T and the girl offered her logical question Ashari nodded. "Yes, I do," she said simply.

While it was likely the young woman had hoped that Ash would spill other information, such as her relationship with said injured person or perhaps what their injury was, she did not. Instead, she remained quiet and stoic and continued at their gentle pace as they moved through the hallways, her eyes much focused on her hands as if in serene concentration.

Rather, she was taking measured breaths, and with each breath she dove further into her inner core. To walk and do magick could be two contradictory functions. One was lead by muscles and the other entirely by the mind. So this took a great level of concentration and while they moved, Ashari took pleasure in the challenge it provided. The inner sanctum of her mental core kept slipping from her grasp, and as it did so, it provided an interest in catching it and then settling into her protective nest in her mind. From there, grounding and a low-level shield came naturally.

From what she figured she wouldn't need a great shield with the magick she intended to pratice on these injured. Her fingertips tingled with would-be energy that burned to be spent. She would put it to good purpose and would establish herself again, as a hero for the people. Andolin would know what a loss it would be to not have her as his Caesar.

[Meridiuz]

The young acolyte had indeed thought that she would have given her a name. At least, that is how it usually went. Still, she kept on walking, since it wasn't that big of a deal. She remained quiet for the rest of the way, as a sign of respect to the injured. It gave Ashari a nice chance to train her centering. Indeed she felt it slipping away from her quite some times, but in the end she managed to grab it and keep a hold of it, creating a basic shield around her.

When they arrived at the injury ward, the girl opened up the door and they walked in. The ward was a wide, long hall with an arching roof. The entrance they had just used opened up into the middle of the hall. Ashari could see beds set up to the left and right of her. On the opposite side there were beds and chairs as well. Not everyone who was injured had to lie down, although most did. If she counted quickly there were about 25 to 30 injured people in the ward right now. There were four priests taking care of the wounded. Currently they were all quite busy with their patients. The closest patient on her left had bandages over his eyes and seemed to be sleeping. The closest patient on her right was sitting up on the bed and was holding a piece of cloth on his left hand. The cloth was quite red from the blood that was still seeping from some kind of wound on his hand.

The young girl turned around and looked at Ashari once more. "Miss, if you could tell me the name of the person you are looking for, then I will see where he or she lays."

[Ashari]

"I'm not sure of the name, actually," Ash finally said once they were in the room and surrounded by those who were in pain. Her eyes shifted over them, looking for those who were wounded in serious and obvious ways. The bleeding man beside her would do well enough for a practice run, as it didn't seem his injury was life-threatening and would give her a chance to warm up her magick as well as ground properly once she was in a comfortable position. "Thank you," she said to the girl, her voice just beginning to get the tinges of the voice as coils of her personal energy were wrapped around the syllables that came from her mouth next. "Leave now," she said.

She moved over to the bed of the man with the injury to his hand. "You are bleeding, would you like me to stop that?" Her gray eyes locked with his. Ashari smiled. "I'm a healer, but not from here in the Temple, so it's up to you if you'd like my help. My name is Ashari." She let down the pretense, bravado and mystery of her initial entrance to the Motherist church and offered a sweet, simple smile.

Ashari took a deep breath, her core was more easily accessed when still. She could feel the undulating power of it's vast sea within her mind. This place was a calm one, and it smelled and tasted faintly of mint. That sensation had once been stronger - an anchor she used to get herself into the proper meditative state. Now, it was less necessary and her mind was relieving itself of the burden of using it, though it remained somewhat in a familiar way. "May I touch you?" She asked the man and looked for a bare patch of skin on him, the neck or face would do well enough, but the connection could be made with any contact.