Blackfoot Forest when night fell she placed hand upon breast; prayed for weeping days of rain
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Ooc — Miryam
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#10
Phocion cocks his head, not willing to let the subject get away so quickly. "Was?" he asked gently, his icy gaze melting into warmth as he stared at her. "What happened? If you can share," he added, dipping his muzzle in a respectful acknowledgement of her privacy. If she didn't want to tell him, Phocion wouldn't try to drag the truth from her lips. Secrets had their place.

"I've never heard about that use for flowers," he continued, intrigued. "To me they've always been just. . .plants," the white priest finished lamely, blinking apologetically at Poet. "Things that heal, food for our prey."

He shrugs. "I am a priest. I know of nothing but prayers. . .and the moon and stars." He nods at the bones and the feathers. "Sometimes we use bones like these--remnants of things that once were--to help us find favor with Fen--er, our Father. Sometimes it is necessary."
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RE: when night fell she placed hand upon breast; prayed for weeping days of rain - by Phocion - January 29, 2018, 11:34 AM