Gyrfalcon's Keep stained glass

she awoke in the middle of the night.

stirring with a grand start to her heart. startled awake by something in a dream. it could not be touched, but it surely could be felt.

could @Asvoria feel it? could a high priestess feel the disturbance of a spirit? treva had become inclined to think so.

her private space in the cavern suddenly felt tight. dark and dreary with her own spirit. at once she turned and began a search for the temple.

uncertain that she would even find it by herself.

The temple's newest treasure was not the only who did not sleep on this eve.

Asvoria, filled to the brim with thoughts, rested her eyes in the great temple. But she did not sleep. Instead, she prayed in silence.

The temple itself was a monument of great creation, made so by nature itself. A wide space, various, smaller caverns leading from the sides. And in the center of it all, a makeshift altar, surrounded by flowers of various color, and bones of recently gifted sacrifices. The work of the high priestess. A custom, often told.

Soft steps of the sleepless roamer could not be missed. The high priestess stirred at the sound, shifting to place her eyes on the woman. Normally, it was not right for one without holy titles to enter this sacred place; but Asvoria would not teach this lesson today. Treva would learn soon.

Sleep does not find you, Treva? Gently, honeyed, she asked this. It was clearly so, but Asvoria sought more-so the truth of why.

each step.

a little holy quiver in her bones. a beacon in her soul that was aligned with another.

it was by pure chance that she stumbled her way to the holy halls in her stupor. maybe the divine held her hands and carried her there on weak legs. she did not know, but she was not inclined to question it.

especially not as the high priestess' voice reached her ears.

i did, for a time. then i...awoke. not inclined to speak on her feverish nightmares. not inclined to speak of the dark corridors of her mind. perhaps she did not need to for it to show in the sunken features of her face and carefully leveled tone of voice.

what of you?

perhaps she was a priestess of the night. bound to the stars in full divinity.

For a time, but not now. Had something woken her, Asvoria wondered?

But if Treva had wanted her to know, she would have spoken it.

I find the evening a peaceful time to pray. The crickets sooth my ears, and the breeze relaxes each tired muscle. It was truth, but also not. A busy mind often prevented her from sleep. This was the usual reason.

it was a thoughtful, peaceful thing.

treva yearned for such things again.

and of the stars? the moon? her voice was soft, carefully crafted around her tired voice. do you have a god or goddess for them?

a cautious step forward, closer.

she wished for comfort and did not know it — or merely didn't allow herself to recognize it.

Were there those divine that belonged to the night alone? Yes!

It pleased Asvoria greatly to know that Treva had such a curious, willful mind. If any time was good for teaching, it was certainly now.

The questions invited a brightness to her expression. Her tone, once seeming a bit more tired, was now wide awake, answering with both honesty and bliss. Yes. Aurvandil, called god of stars. And Máni, god of moon. They are with us in this peaceful time. And when we wake, goddess of sun, Sol, will take the place of her brother, Máni.

she was charmed to hear these things.

it eased her mind some. softened the blow of fevered nightmares. a distraction from dreams she feared slipping back into.

do they have stories?

she reclined and eventually further slipped to lay upon the ground. a devoted student to her teacher in these moments.

Stories were sought next. But alas, the high priestess did not know many.

Mm, She hummed, thinking of a way to replace what she lacked. Stories of the old gods and goddesses were kept with those we called Smiðr: storytellers that knew much of history, and perhaps weaved tales of their own creation. These things she did not know, for she had never been a storyteller. I know not of these stories, but only of the various holy deities we call our own. Them, and of their children. The ways they bless us, and the ways we can bless them. 

Which did she want to know, if any at all?

tell me she wanted to press, but found her lips tightening for a moment.

she had no sway here. especially not to one as kind as the high priestess before her.

how would you bless Aurvandil of the stars? genuine curiosity as her gaze shifted. off towards the altar and then back again. never straying very long.

The stars. Many ways to bless this place above. She could have sung to them, or danced in their view. Or, perhaps even learned names of other stars just to appease him. But there was way in particular that Asvoria had been taught. A way both divine and unique, for it showed piety and devotion to the history of their deities. 

It is said that Aurvandil became as he did when a toe of his was frozen and removed by Thor. This toe was then sent to the sky, later known as a grand constellation. When I was young, it was taught to me this: hunt a rabbit, weasel, fox, or any creature alike. from the webbing of the paw, remove a single toe. place it upon the altar when the moon has risen and the stars brim the sky. where Aurvandil had lost a toe, we bless him with another, so that he may have another star alongside him.

toes into stars.

she looked down at her own paws and gave careful consideration of what it would be like. missing a toe. would she even miss it once it healed?

do his most devout give their own?

a soft touch of humor mingled with tired curiosity.

To give ones own toe. What would this mean? Even Asvoria did not know, and she would not hide this. 

I do not know, She answered, truthful. It has not been done. At least, not in the eyes of others. If there was someone in existence that had done this, none would know it.

Now, to Treva, she looked back with a thoughtful, witty shimmer in her eyes. Though— I would not suggest being so bold and impulsive as to do this yourself. Perhaps it may have even been seen as disrespectful. Thor had chosen Aurvandil. His toe alone was given to the stars. Repeating this action on your own behalf may come as an offense to his blessing. This is why we give smaller, inferior animals instead of ourselves. We are in no way equal to Aurvandil, nor Thor's grace, as to which was bestowed.

offense?

no, she had not meant such. she had thought such a big offering might lend itself to a great reverence.

i understand, she did not, but she obeyed. do you have priests and priestesses assigned to certain gods and goddess?

she clawed for familiar things and hoped she might find them.

she clawed to find her place.

Treva claimed to have understood, though, Asvoria did not feel total confidence. But alas, she would try not to pressure this woman. The topic would be left alone, for now.

There are times when priests and priestesses will claim practice of a particular God, or more. It is not uncommon. Even if maybe it was. Most of the holy would come to know all and worship all. As was their traditional way.

The idea would not be scorned, however. This time was that of change. If there were those of them that would adopt new ways of worship, perhaps Asvoria could learn these things too and embrace them.

i see,

and she did.

but a soft yawn escaped her despite her best efforts to hold it back. respect and all. asvoria deserved plenty of it.

i believe i am being summoned back to the land of the sleeping. her voice soft and warm with slumber and humor. thank you for dealing with a pesky student.

fade for something new? <3

sure thing!

This time, Asvoria sensed a level of higher confidence. It put her with ease.

Then when Treva declared her wish to retire — or so, the forceful pull to do so — the priestess couldn't help but be inclined, as she too was feeling dazed.

There is no such thing as a pesky student, She smiled coyly, tail flicking back and forth with amusement. Only those willful and eager, and those not. For there could only be one or the other.

May you finally find peace in your rest, dear Treva. Alas, the priestess could have continued to share what she knew, but both were in dire need of rest. She could not keep either from it. We will speak again soon.