Firefly Glen "Through the Refiner’s Fire" (Malachi 3:3)

the night stretched wide and empty, the wind weaving through the trees like a restless spirit. periane moved with quiet purpose, her paws light against the frost-kissed earth. she had not come for shelter, nor for rest.
she had come to pray.
the crag stood before her, bathed in pale moonlight, its jagged edges like the teeth of some slumbering beast. she lowered herself, pressing her forehead to the cold stone, breath slow, steady.
o lord, hear me.
the words did not leave her lips, but they swelled in her chest, heavy and unspoken.
if i am lost, show me the way. if i must bear this weight, make me strong enough to carry it.
silence answered.
she stayed there, listening, waiting—searching for something in the stillness.

aw

The night is dark of full of terrors. Her mother used to scare her each night before bed, and the sand-woman had come to believe it. Cold breeze brushed her soft fur, strolling the canopy. Her sand-painted veil shone bright under the moonlight, reminding her of sunlight; the lovely sunlight.

Quiet steps approached suddenly a pale figure pressed on the ground, quiet and still. Hemera did not dare disturb her praying; she kept a safe distance from the woman, seated beside a trunk, tail over her paws. The sandwoman kept her head high, dark gaze fixed on the heavens. It would soon be time for her cleansing; she has sinned. The water will cleanse her body, the sun her soul.

A few moments passed when the woman finally broke the silence: „I greet you,” her voice pleasant and gentle, foreign accent clearly present.

periane did not lift her head at first, lingering in the hush that followed the stranger’s voice. her ears tipped forward, the only sign that she had heard. the night stretched between them, quiet but not empty.
at last, she shifted, lifting her muzzle from the cold stone, pale eyes tracing the silhouette seated by the trunk. the woman’s fur, kissed by the sands of the sun, gleamed under the moon’s pale light.
i greet you, she answered, her voice low, steady, carrying the weight of one who had spoken many prayers and heard few answers. she studied the woman for a moment longer before turning her gaze back to the sky.
you seek something too. it was not a question, but an understanding.

thanks for joining!

<3 I absolutely love Periane

Her face unreadable, emotionless even. Fairy body relaxing under the light gaze of the priestess before her, pure and divine. A sense of ease washed over her, a feeling of understanding as the woman stated her desire. Mundane and simple, seeking the utmost form of divinity among the dying world. 

Plum gaze still fixed upon the heavens, „Yes,” Hemera murmured under breath, „I seek the divine light the Lord bestowed upon me.” Sandwoman shook her head, silky white veil on her shoulders fluttering from the movement. She needed to remain pure, untouched by the sins of the wild, worthy of the Lord’s light and guidance.

Finally, her gaze lowered to the pale woman before her. „What do you seek, priestess? Has the Lord not shown you the path yet?” Archaic and solemn, the tip of her lips curled into a grin. A dignified woman that remained without a light it seems, yet she could be wrong.

periane watched her, the quiet reverence of the moment settling deep in her chest. priestess. the title was given freely, without doubt.
a slow smile, small but warm, found her lips. recognition, yet hesitation.
perhaps, she murmured, the word neither denial nor acceptance. her gaze drifted skyward again, searching the vast expanse of stars as though they might part to reveal the answers she longed for.
the signs are unclear.
her voice carried the weight of uncertainty, of longing. i seek, yet i do not know if i see. i listen, yet i do not know if i hear.
she exhaled softly, the cold catching her breath like mist.
does the Lord test me, or have i strayed too far?

THANK YOU;;

The seed of doubt has already been planted in her mind. A disease. A sickness spread by the horned one, from deep within the earth, born from fire and death. She had seen it before, in her sister. Her stench of the evil still lingered in her mind, shaking her from inside. Her sister was irretrievable, but the priestess was not. Thank the heavens she was early.

„The signs are there,” Hemera rose to her feet and stepped closer to the woman, body staggering slightly, „loud and clear.” Her pace came to a halt, right arm rising to the heavens. „The Lord sees all; hears all.” Do not let the fire of death reach you, she repeated in her mind. Perhaps the evil was tempting her, the evil of the world. She herself had been there before, the reason for her immediate cleansing.

„You, priestess.” The sandwoman pointed her nose, „Open your heart and mind and let God cleanse you of evil.” Heavy breaths left her throat and quiet, soft murmurs of a hymn escaped her lips, purple orbs closed.

periane did not move at first. she stood firm, still as stone, as the sandstone woman wavered closer, as her words poured forth with the weight of conviction.
"the signs are there."
were they?
periane’s gaze flickered to the heavens, as if searching for the answer herself. she had spent so long seeking, so long listening—yet the silence remained. now, this woman spoke as if certainty was her birthright.
if the Lord sees all, she murmured, tilting her head slightly, then He sees my uncertainty, too.
pindent]a pause, measured, thoughtful.
i pray for a clearer path.
her voice did not waver, but there was something in it—something raw. she was no stranger to faith, but faith was not blind. faith was not without struggle.
she watched as the woman murmured her hymn, eyes closed, lost in devotion. periane joined her. head lowering, a tangible moment between God and herself.
tell me your name, sister.

As much as she did not like to admit, she had been there herself. Doubtful, alone, without a light. But when she dedicated her life to Him, suddenly the world seemed brighter. Everything snapped into place, perfect and pure as all things should be. „He does, yes.” Muttering under breath, soft and soothing.

Fairy body shifted under the woman’s gaze, as if watched by the Lord Himself. You never know through whose eyes God is watching you. And, perhaps, He was doing so now. Testing her faith, her clarity, her worthiness. And she proved once more she was worthy. Under her hymn, she continued, „Share His word with the pagan world,” her eyes opened wide, as if struck by a revelation.

Hemera focused on the priestess, narrowing her eyes, the tip of her soft lips curling into a smile once more, „Hemera, sister. What shall I call you?” pointy ears turned to her, lingering.

periane watched her closely, the fervor in her voice, the certainty etched into every word. faith was a fire in this woman—blazing, unyielding, all-consuming.
periane exhaled softly, though whether in thought or quiet resignation, she did not say.
then he sees me still, she murmured, more to herself than to hemera.
the sandwoman’s name was given freely, carried on a voice that did not waver. periane held it in the quiet space between them before offering her own.
periane, she said, dipping her head ever so slightly. it is what i have always been called.
her gaze lingered on the woman, studying, weighing.
you are certain in your path, she observed. tell me, sister hemera—does the fire never waver in you?

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Revealing one’s true name gave the other the power to control. The Law of Names, she heard it before. The priests whispered of the law when discussing the underground. Still, it applied to demons, not those in the service of God. Inadmissible! A pure, devout follower could never stray from the path, could never fall for the trickster’s games.

The intensity of her faith is rooted deep within her history. Doctrine was forced upon members from a young age, threatening whoever refused to follow. You are either with us, or against us. Those who spoke against it were taken to the priests for a ‘talk’ they said. Suddenly the opposers were never seen again after the so-called talk. Heretics they said; Hemera never knew what happened to them, what they did to them. Those who escaped were not the same. They always kept their head low, tail between the legs when they passed the higher ups, quiet and never spoke of freedom again. It was all she ever knew: God was her savior, her guiding light, and she must give her life into His service. Straying meant death. She could never let herself stray from the one true path.

„No,” so simple, so sure of herself, „It burns bright as the sun itself, sister Periane.” She needed to be sure. There was no room for doubt. No, no, no. A distant memory of a bathing wolf flooded her; she was a mere child, did not know what the scene meant. The girl sneaked up to one of those talks and witnessed their true nature. Surrounded by the clergy, the bathing wolf never rose from the water again. He swam to shore not long after, they said, then left with his new family, they said, we blessed him and his wife, they said.

„My life’s work is in His Name.” Another statement that solidifies her ambition. Her tone changed now; serious, unnerving. Hemera inhaled sharply, her tail vibrating under the moonlight. Hemera had strayed before, struggled with her belief, yet she was not about to share it. No. It was her burden and she was going to take it to the grave, when the time will come. A light breeze brushed her sand fur, shivering, unsure if it was the wind or the reality of her condition.

periane listened, the conviction in hemera’s voice as unwavering as stone. there was no doubt, no hesitation—only fire, only faith.
a declaration, firm and unyielding.
periane did not challenge it. she understood it. faith, after all, was not always gentle. sometimes, it demanded. sometimes, it consumed.
your devotion is unquestionable, she said, a quiet acknowledgment, neither praise nor judgment. she had met many who clung to faith as tightly as breath itself—who feared what might happen should they ever loosen their grip.
her gaze lingered on the sandwoman, watching the way her tail quivered, the sharp inhale that followed her words.
it is improper for you to travel alone.
she tilted her head slightly, studying hemera in the pale moonlight. priestesses are not meant to wander unaccompanied. is it wise, then, for us to walk this path together?
it was not quite an offer, not yet—but it was something close. a question left open, waiting to be answered.

Unquestionable. Unbowed, unbent, unbroken. Her faith was a beacon, unchallenged. Even if the priestess was not praising for her steadiness and devotion, she still felt proud, feeding into her ego. Staying faithful as she is was not for everyone, of course, she understood that. It was in her blood, her flesh, every part of her sylph body.

Priestesses often journeyed within a sacred circle, for to wander alone was to bring the mark of death upon one's self. She longed for a kindred soul to walk beside her, a fellow woman to carry the weight of divine words upon the wind, to share in the trials of the road. 

„If you wish to carry His word upon the wind,” she murmured, pressing a paw to her chest, „or if you seek but a lone pilgrim to walk beside you through the shadows of this world,” the ghost of a once-faded smile flickered upon her lips, softer now, „then it would be more than wise to do so.” Solitude had never been her path to begin with.

periane watched the way hemera spoke, the way conviction laced her every word, as though faith itself wove through her veins. it was a fire that did not waver, and periane could respect that.
she nodded, yes.
to spread the Lord’s word. to carry it upon the wind. to walk where others would not, so that faith might not falter in the shadows.
then we will walk together.
her voice was quiet but certain, a promise made without hesitation. periane was no stranger to solitude, but she was not meant to be alone. neither of them were.
she exhaled softly, watching the way the moonlight kissed the sandwoman’s fur. the road is long, but we do not have to walk it in silence.

fade? loved these two so much <3

So eager, without a moment’s pause. The golden hues that adorned the woman’s back called to mind a doe: gentle, poised, a creature of quiet grace.

„Of course.” A nod, a silent accord. The wind whispered softly, weaving through her fur, as if cradling the moment in its hush. Perhaps this was the weaving of destiny; two souls bound to the same path, unraveling God’s world side by side. With quiet resolve, Hemera lifted a paw, an unspoken invitation, an offering to step onto the ethereal path that stretched before them.