Private Apprise the Pious Deity; Her Faithful to the Rescue

[Countess Anétresya]

For almost three days she had been on the road, rocking within the confines of the clunky two beast-drawn chariot [x]. Seated across her was her most trusted handmaiden. Was. A cup of tea her handmaiden served to her nights before had put her in a deep sleep, only for her to wake up outside of the safety and comfort of the palace - the place she was kept within for the past five years. She was the reason why the divine entity was stuck in here in the first place. "They will find me, Meika." Odemyrii hissed, a deep scowl on her face.

"I don't doubt they are searching, Odemyrii." The woman said with a sigh. And once again, she explained,"You are very important to them. But you are no more divine than that of your kind. You have been raised on a lie. You'll understand once we get to the ship." Whatever blasphemy the woman talked about, Odemyrii wouldn't hear it. The girl had been raised to this point and in two months, her soul would ascend and her life would be made eternal with her sacrifice. Meika had served for years as one of her faithful attendants - or at least she thought so until now. The woman knocked, demanding the attention of the two men driving the beasts. "Are we close?" One, a guard sworn to protect her was a traitor. "About two or more hours. Fien should be waiting for us."

Odemyrii's wrists were restrained loosely to the window since she had backhanded Meika firmly across the face two days ago, she couldn't do all that much but sulk. "Why? I thought you loved your Goddess." The girl's azure eyes brimmed with moisture. It was an utter betrayal for her most loyal to lose her faith in her divinity after years of worship. "Truly, I care about you. I have grown to love you. We were too late to save Ishimet from the harvest. But we can save you, Ouryl'Eeya." The name addressed was one she hadn't heard spoken in years. The name she went by before she was brought to the temple and anointed with her divine one. "My name is Odemyrii." Her life as a mortal was left behind for a long while now.

"Oh, child, don't you have questions? Perhaps of where come from? Who your real parents are? What you are? About everything beyond the reach of Xona? There is more than you know. My sisters will teach you, show you, I promise you that." Meika contested. While the other was patient, the younger Odemyrii was not. Of course, she had questions that she had given up asking for they were never truly answered. The frustration and emotions were stirring within her. She knew all. She was omniscient. Now to be told what she assumed was a lie that would shatter her reality if only she believed.​

The chariot came to a sudden halt.​

 

[A.G.]

"Hup! Get on!" The driver clucked and whipped the reins. Nervously, the carriage beasts stomped and balked, their ears and necks swiveling to the woods around. A gleam of metal in the shadows catching the eye of one who reared up suddenly with a howl of pain, as a flurry of arrows descended, riddling the bodies of man and beast before the call to arms could be raised.

War cries erupted. Swiftly the raiders emerged from the trees, swords leaping into the fray as they swarmed the small caravan. None left alive, save for the two women inside the sitting carriage.

The door was ripped open. Insignia of palace guards flashing in front of Odemyrii's eyes as they quickly subdued Meika, binding her and dragging her away.

"Goddess, you are safe now." One of the guards picked her handcuffs open and helped her down from the carriage. Gently, the man wrapped his arm around Odemyrii's shoulders and led her away from the scene of carnage. The sharp tang of iron. The eerie silence of the forest, littered with the fallen in pools of blood.

... ... ...​

Yasha's sandaled feet sprinted across the camp, elation on his face when he finally saw them. The rescue party had returned. With Odee!

The fifteen-year old wasn't the only one, stopped by a crowd of guards and handmaidens flocking about Odemyrii. When his turn came, Yasha couldn't resist but give the goddess a light hug in joyful embrace. Three days had felt like ages, since they last saw each other.

"Thank the heavens, you're alright." He withdrew his arms, smile uncontainable. His endearing gray blue gaze unwavering from hers. "I knew you would never run away. Nearly everyone thought you did, but I didn't."

"Your Divinity, come, let's get you cleaned up," one of the handmaidens fussed.

Yasha chuckled. "I'll send you some food." He nodded compliantly as the handmaidens tugged Odemyrii along, where a warm bath, fresh clothes, and Yasha's flatbread and stew would await her.

Counting the heads of those present, Yasha turned to a guard he recognized. "Is everyone here?"

"Yes, we all made it," Ruith said. "Thank Aeron, he gave us victory today." His eyes drifted to a nearby medical tent. "A few wounded, but nothing that a few days' rest won't cure."

To put it lightly. Yasha winced at the extent of some of the injuries he saw, passing through. A few were in such battered and fragile state, lying on cots, Yasha feared they wouldn't make it.

Ruith shook his head. "They may be rebels, but they're highly trained rebels. Possibly an army worth fearing. Why else would they be so bold to attempt this?" Never before had a goddess been taken from the temple. What was once rumor was now a very real threat, that the rebels would strike this close to home. A pinprick through the heart of Xanovea's religious culture. "Perhaps a decoy for Odemyrii is necessary. Someone to spy on the rebels, if another kidnapping occurs."

Yasha nodded solemnly. "And Meika? What will happen to her?"

"Arena, likely. The council wants a public execution. An example to all heretics."

The God of War and Victory would judge, himself.

... ... ...​

"What are you doing?" Zimri hovered over Yasha's shoulder. Steam rose from the small pot Yasha was stirring over the fire by the eunuchs' tent. The pungent trace of bisaata unmistakable to those acquainted with the aromatic leaf.

"Making a poultice. For the wounded." The truth would have soon been known during the evening tea, without his ration of bisaata to partake. Nor was it in Yasha's nature to lie to his best friend.

"Are you sure?" The 18-year old Rattataki frowned in concern. "It's a three-day journey back to the temple. The prelates said not to break our routine."

Yasha shrugged, his mind already made. "Either way, I'll live." The tug of a smile in jest could not betray the worry that flickered across his face. "But those that are wounded might not."

"That is why we pray," Zimri replied, half-joking at Yasha's sudden deviance. "Where is your faith?"

"In this pot," Yasha countered lightly. With that, he continued to stir, staring at the swirling, bubbling concoction.

Countess Anétresya

 

[Countess Anétresya]

There was a whistle in the air followed by thuds above the carriage roof and screams that erupted from both from beast and their riders crumpling off the saddles. "What's happening?" Odemyrii's voice wavered. What she thought was just three, the drivers and Meika, was an incredible underestimation as a hoard appeared from the thicket of trees to come to aid. A fight ensued outside the caravan of cries, clangs of metal, whistles of arrows and the sound of impaled flesh. From the apertures, with wide frightened eyes, she caught glimpses of the erratic decimation - unfortunate enough to witness a gnarly decapitation that sent blood spraying through the windows and onto the green finery she wore.

Then silence. Meika stood on alert, drawing a sleek blade from her side which she held steady. "This was all for you. Ouryl'Eeya. To apprise - so you may aid us in eradicating the primeval ways of the sanctum." She said solemnly with dark brown eyes determined to know what she was about to do. "Don't go out there. It is futile, Meika. Please!" Despite her betrayal, the Goddess begged in a whisper, distressed about the safety and life of her once trusted handmaiden. "You must save yourself," The doors swung open, and in a battle cry, Meika lunged, the guard moving just in time for her throw to miss the heart and impale near the shoulder. Another guard swiftly pulled her out, the chariot shaking as she was thrown brutally against its wall. Meika put up a fight, slashing his arm but was quickly overpowered.

Odemyrii's eyes glistened hearing the anguished cries of her pain and witnessing Meika endure a punishing beating right outside the doors of the chariot. "Have mercy! Your Goddess wills it!" The mortal deity commanded in a scream. To her self-astonishment of her power and authority, they stopped, none seeming to have the desire to continue their brutal assault. A sigh of relief she exhaled as the battered woman managed to stand before being taken away.

Another came to release her from the restraints before helping her down the of the chariot. The seventeen-year-old was visibly shaken as she stepped into the horrific scene of blood, lifeless bodies, severed limbs and decapitated heads. The grass below her bare feet was soaked in the viscous liquid.

This was all for you.

Odemyrii felt an arm around her shoulders turning her away from the gruesome sight. "Goddess, you are safe now." He assured her as he led her to a beast he then helped her mount up on. The search party would ride back to the camp, carrying their victory with them.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------​

The ride to the camp was about three hours - wherever heavens know she would have been now if the fleet had not come to take her back. The sun was starting to lower in a bright orange ray cast across the hills upon the small camp in the near distance. As she dismounted, the first to come up to her were the guards who kneeled before her as the mortal deity gave them her blessing and thanks for their efforts and the swift healing of the injured. Three of her handmaidens flocked towards her ecstatically until the girls saw the blood splattered across her dress and her bare feet in dirt, grime, and blood. The girls maintained an arm's distance from her and the perturbing sight.

It wasn't until she saw him did a genuine smile finally crossed her visage. She didn't expect that he'd be here. "Yasha!" Unlike her handmaidens, he wasn't bothered at all by her dishevelled state as the tall lad hugged her. Despite the critical stares of the girls, the Goddess didn't hesitate to reciprocate the embrace - a reunion that gave her a warm feeling of comfort with how shaken she was after everything she had witnessed. "Run away?" She looked up in disbelief. Odemyrii wanted to speak with him further, but alas, it would be inappropriate to dismiss her attendants eager to escort her away.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------​

Submerged in a relaxing concoction of goat's milk, honey and florals within a large wooden tub, the handmaidens attended to the Goddess, scrubbing her skin with salts and brushing rice water through locks of dark green hair. As usual, the gossip started.

"Forgive me Your Divinity, we all believed you've run away. Zimri and the guards claimed they saw you climb the palace walls and disappear into the woods that morning." Odemyrii nearly snorted, upon hearing this. She was a Goddess with every whim taken care of and was nowhere near capable of scaling a wall taller than a small tree.

"The prelates were quite upset with Yasha - he went out for hours, we thought he ran away too but he came back with your shoes and ornaments he found near the path down to the village. They wouldn't send a search party until I confirmed they were yours." The youngest, Seyona, pipped up a little too proudly.

Odemyrii remained silent as she listened to her attendants talk. "I just can't believe Meika would do such a thing. I've always suspected something was up with her. It's a shame. " Denira chattered. Odemyrii resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Meika was her most trusted, that the girls would know well and their sympathy was poorly feigned.

"Goddess, if I may ask, who would you select to receive the honour at the harvest now that Meika wouldn't be a viable candidate?" Nora asked a question that unsettled. "We are making the ceremonial gown. We can't wait to see it shine on you!" Odemyrii pursed her lips, an odd feeling of frustration stirring inside her. "I'm sure it would be beautiful." The Goddess stated simply.

Not wanting to continue the conversation between her handmaidens, the water sloshed as she stood and stepped out from the bath. Seyona scurried to get the towels to dry her off. "Excuse me. I've spent the better part of three days on the road. I need some air."

"Shall we accompany you?" They asked.

"A guard will do."

-------------------------------------------------------------------------​

There wasn't much to see in the small camp. Those whom she passed bowed. Ruith chaperoned her as the Goddess walked along, the cold breeze stinging her skin. "Where is Meika?" She broke the silence between them. The armoured man simply pointed ahead where a prison wagon was parked at a distance. "I know you two were close," Odemyrii empathised. The man sighed, "We were. Your divinity, I assure you, I was entirely unaware of her involvements -" The deity raised her hand, cutting the man short as he rambled nervously.

"I am not insinuating anything, Ruith. See to it that she is out of the cold and tended to, preferably near my tent." She said. The man's lips parted to protest, but the narrow glare of the Goddess deterred. "I am not the God of War, his ways are not mine. But you should not dare defy your Goddess. Aeron will have his way at the arena." With that she turned, making her way back to her tent.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------​

Odemyrii couldn't eat any more than a few spoonfuls of stew. She rolled around in bed, unable to quieten her thoughts, plagued with all that she had witnessed that day. The rebels did not worship her, yet had defended her till their death - albeit a prisoner. All the blood spilled. Now the voice echoed in her head. This was all for you, Ouryl'Eeya The teen decided to pay Meika a visit. She shrugged on her robe and stepped into the chill of the night under the light of the moon.

There was someone with Meika as the Goddess lingered outside the tent peeking through the curtains. "If you've used your last ration, you might be met with some... hitches... on the way back. Are you aware of what properties there are other than healing?" Meika's voice sounded, the distinct smell of Bisaata wafting in the air. "Why are you prescribed by the prelates to take twice a day in a tea but injured you are not?" She asked. Her arm brushed against his as her wounds were tended to.

"Bisaata is only drafted to servants like you, not guards or handmaidens. I wouldn't particularly say its a sedative, no." Her hand reached again for contact. This time, Odemyrii announced her presence, her words said almost possessively, "Yasha serves his Goddess and only now tends to you on my whim. Do not touch him." Meika withdrew, "As you wish, Ouryl'Eeya." While not particularly please with her former handmaiden's conduct - it was not that surprising given she was a prisoner. Odemyrii sat with them, joining the conversation. "In fact, it is only because he serves you so closely that he is obligated to take the tea." Meika continued.
​

 

[A.G.]

"Well, if you're not joining us, go take this to the prisoner." One of the eunuchs handed Yasha a bowl of soup. With dinner finished, the evening tea was poured, and the rest of the eunuchs settled in their circle around the campfire for meditation and prayer, lulled with each sip of bisaata until the hour of worship was complete.

Not drinking the tea hadn't killed him, though the other eunuchs seemed to ostracize him as such. Even those wounded had been hesitant to receive a poultice made from the holy leaf. Not until they were assured by the goddess Odemyrii herself that she had given her permission for Yasha to do so. And even then, with much apprehension.

Fortunately he had found Odemyrii wandering around the camp with Ruith, to be able to ask her. But then she told him to give some to Meika too, and that—that—Yasha did not understand, why the goddess still cared so much for her captor. A rebel. A heretic...

Sourly, he stared at the bowl of warm soup in his hands. Meika did not deserve such luxury.

Spit in it.

Wait, where did that come from? Yasha shook the evil thought from his head as he continued his walk of shame over to the prisoner's tent. The glint of a dagger left unattended by one of the guards' tents, rousing yet another wave of primal emotion that a man of peace normally did not feel. Temple-soft fingers wrapped their way around the battle-worn hilt. An instrument of death and destruction, inciting fear and excitement within him.

Him, possibly alone, with a prisoner who had drawn a knife against the guards before.

Just in case. He tucked the dagger inside his robe and scurried on.

Near the center of the camp was a small tent, somewhat isolated from the hive of activity, yet a stone's throw away from the other guards' tents surrounding, with watchful eyes everywhere. Still, the lack of guards directly outside the prisoner's tent unnerved Yasha as he entered, pulling back the flap and stepping into the warmth of the firepit that cast its glow upon the woman who sat with her hands bound to a wooden post behind her back.

"Yasha." Meika raised her head and smiled softly, her silken tone and sly gaze striking him as someone who wasn't quite down in defeat, as Yasha approached.

"Unless you want me to feed you like a baby, you won't try anything funny if I release your hands?" He narrowed his eyes at Meika.

"I'm certain Ruith has his guards lying around, just waiting for me to escape. Why should I?" Meika replied coolly.

He bent down to undo Meika's restraints, letting her eat first while he poked at the coals of the firepit for a bit, and then scooted up to her with the other bowl of poultice in hand. "Medicine. For your wounds," he said gruffly. As much as he wanted to do a poor job in "caring" for this traitor, part of his pride and virtue wouldn't allow it, if anything, a disrespect to the holy leaf, not handling it with reverence. Gingerly, he began applying the mixture and sticking on the bandages.

"So they want me pretty, for my execution." Meika chuckled dryly. "I suppose I can't give them good sport, if I'm not fit." She sniffed the poultice on her arm. “Bisaata? Surely you didn't bring extra for me."

He could feel Meika's stare bore into him, as he tried to ignore her.

"But you didn't. . . You are irritable. . . You haven't had your tea. . ."

In the midst of biting his lip, Yasha gulped. Shivering at the temptress' touch.

She knew too much. How did she...?

Surprised by Odemyrii's interruption, Yasha withdrew his hands as well.

"Enough!" He snapped at Meika. "—Odee, she's a heretic. She's trying to deceive us. Her words are lies!" He stood up swiftly, grasping Odemyrii's hand. "Let's go. Now!" He tried to tug her away, desperately.

So upset was he that Yasha forgot all formalities. All he knew was that he had to get Odemyrii out of here, before Meika could corrupt them further.

Countess Anétresya

 

[Countess Anétresya]

As soon as she sat herself down, Yasha grabbed her hand to pull her back up on her feet with him. "Yasha!" The Goddess protested. To command a Goddess was a feat one would only have the nerve to do - regardless if he was among one of the closest attendants serving her. "I am perfectly capable of discerning what is truthful on my own will. Please sit, or leave us, Yasha." Odemyrii huffed, confounded by his unusual abruptness and blatant demand for them to leave. Whatever Meika said had certainly riled him up, but unlike him, the Goddess would not dictate he stayed if he didn't want to.

The grip on her hand was still vice. An eyebrow rose in a wordless question if the eunuch would release his grasp. Meika seemed to have found some amusement in the exchange before her. Eventually, they settled. "Odee? Is that what he calls you, Goddess?" A coy smile played on Meika's lips while a tinge of pink flushed Odemyrii's cheeks. The girl diverted the attention back to the topic they were dwelling on by shedding some of her knowledge. "The holy leaf purifies one’s mind of sullied thoughts when consumed. Makes for a clearer mind." She'd glance at Yasha, hoping that what she remembered being told checked the boxes.

Meika sighed, a gentle shake of her head. "To put it simply and more conservatively, yes. Impure thoughts. And you, Odemyrii, are to remain pure and unsullied within the temple. Do you know what that means?" As she spoke, Meika would also sip on the bowl of soup. Odemyrii's lips parted to answer only to realise, she didn't know what it meant. "Surely you heard the men talk in your quarters, Yasha? You'd know." Meika turned to the teen, and so did Odemyrii, now waiting for his answer.​

 

[A.G.]

The goddess refused to budge, and Yasha found himself still beside her, willing to suffer the same fate than abandon her. Why did she entertain Meika's conversation, allowing the traitor to manipulate their heads? Three days away from the temple, he speculated, was ample time enough for the seeds of rebellion to have distorted the goddess' views, in loyalty to her once trusted handmaiden.

He opened his mouth to chide Odemyrii's foolishness, but silenced himself, in meager attempt at salvaging some respect for the goddess who spoke, as well as in compliance with her awareness of bisaata, at least from his lack of protest. With Meika's last question pointed at him, Yasha felt his face flush. For a moment, he held Meika's gaze firmly, though something in his countenance faltered with conscious realization of the implication of Odemyrii's hand in his. Oh shoot. He hadn't meant to say her nickname aloud...

Numbly, his fingers slackened, allowing the goddess' hand to slip from his. Defiance faded from his eyes, and the little servant-boy eunuch returned, standing meekly in the presence of the older ex-handmaiden. Do as you are told. Speak when you are spoken to.

"Chastity," he murmured. His gaze adverted to the floor. "The goddess is to be a virgin. No unpurified man can touch her, less desire in his heart overcome him."

Indeed, the teen knew everything there was needed to be known about the "natural" symbiosis between male and female, what base and carnal atmosphere resided outside the temple walls. Yet without impure thought to cloud his mind, cleansed by bisaata thrice a day, one could be as straightforward about the matter in pursuit of sage knowledge and curiosity, without judgement.

But that was among the eunuchs. Here, in the presence of female company, he found himself strangely uncomfortable to discuss further the topic of biology.

Countess Anétresya

 

[Countess Anétresya]

While she had always known the answer, Odemyrii was unable to put her thoughts into words at present. Yasha having to answer on her behalf had made him visibly uncomfortable, Odemyrii could see that and she wondered if that was in Meika's intention. Odemyrii herself was getting uneasy, but why? The conversation was only shared with two she knew well.

"Touch as in-"

"I'm sure we understand, Meika. The union of bodies. An act in which through life is created." She cut her off before Meika could further elaborate. How she came to know this was through conversations with women and expecting families who took pilgrimages to worship her, to receive her blessing. An affinity for children was nurtured as she grew, their fascination and admiration of her was always enlightening - the faith of a child was pure, unquestioning.

The older woman nodded. "There is more to that than creating life. Lust and pleasure — the impure thoughts, and violence I may add. You are a Goddess, sacred and divine, loved and desired in more ways than one. Bisaata does well to negate that natural urge, for men at the very least - those who intimately serve you drink it and its dire consequence." Odemyrii listened as Meika enlightened. She had always been wise, regardless if she had betrayed her, there was no denying her wisdom shared over the years.

"Does it not bother you, Odemyrii?" She then asked. "Knowing that, in your perceived life as a reincarnate you would never experience carnate pleasure... Or the joys of motherhood. Creation of life, as you put it." Odemyrii had never thought about it until now it was presented to her in a question. Now those words, hit her like a slap across the face, rendering her speechless, upset and frustrated. Indeed, it did bother her very much.

"No. I will ascend into the realm everlasting, I will witness and experience everything throughout Xona through the astral plane. I will not relinquish that for trivial mortal desires." The teen said, her voice absolute, However, only merely repeating much of what she had been told in the temple. There was just a little more than two months to go. It was all she had ever known, and perhaps ignorance was good. It would hurt less. Odemyrii turned to her trusted servant, holding his gaze. "Do you love me, Yasha?" It was an odd question, but the Goddess needed to hear him testify - to be assured that his faith in her still stood strong. Meika's loss of faith was disappointing at the least and heartbreaking at the worst.




​

"Then would you accept the honour of the harvest?"​

 

[A.G.]

Consequence? Yasha's curiosity piqued for but a moment at what Meika was implying. If carnal pleasure was all he had to lose, then it seemed very well worth it to him, to be close to the goddess. Lust was hardly a sacrifice. The eunuch could not miss what he never had, what he never felt.

Odemyrii's reply was encouraging; emboldening and affirming Yasha's stance on the matter as well. She had not departed from the faith, and neither would he. Standing beside her and listening; she looked up at him with serious inquiry.

"Do you love me, Yasha?"​

The divine authority in her gaze and tone, Yasha knew did not pertain to the flesh, but the soul. Still, it was a surprising question, given the recent topic that prickled his skin. One that he hesitated to reply to without gathering his thoughts first, so he could answer the goddess with upmost respect and sincerity. "Yes. I do." Not as a blind follower, but a loyal friend, one he cherished and knew intimately.

"Then would you accept the honour of the harvest?"​

Him? Yasha was stunned. He never thought himself that highly of or favored by the goddess to be considered her second choice for the harvest. And now with the offer before him, he realized the weight of what a single word would change about his future.

To accept would elevate him beyond that of a eunuch, to stand among the palace court as the goddess' representative until he joined her side in the afterlife. For a goddess to willingly die at the hands of a mortal was an exchange of powers that united heaven and earth, and bound the sacrifice and sacrificer as one. To be chosen was more than an honor. It was a blessing.

His lips moved to speak, when Meika interrupted.

"Honor?" Meika scoffed. "There is no honor in killing your friend, Yasha." Her eyes pleaded with the two youths. "Help me, and I will show you both the truth."

"Odemyrii is the truth." Yasha growled.

Sadness crept over Meika's face in defeat. It was clear there was nothing she could do to change her former friends' minds. With an empty look, she closed her eyes. "In this life or the next... Someday...you both will understand."

A brush of metal against Yasha's waist, suddenly flew out from under his robe and into Meika's hand. In a flash, the ex-handmaiden grabbed ahold of Odemyrii and raised the dagger—his dagger—arching toward Odemyrii's heart.

There was no time to think or feel fear. Instinctively, Yasha lunged for the blade, throwing himself at Meika, no less larger and stronger than her as the eunuch wrestled the dagger from her grip, letting it clatter to the floor.

"Odee, run!" He shouted, pinning Meika to the ground. Ferociously, the woman fought back, shrieking and scratching and kicking like a wild animal, each strike riling up the Rattataki within him.

Before Yasha could consider using the dagger on her, his fists took over. One punch after the other, pummeling Meika as his vision blurred, lost in a blind rage.

"Stop! Yasha, stop!" A clamp on the boy's shoulders ripped him away from his prey. With a snarl, Yasha's hands clawed out desperately, before snapping to. Help had arrived, inevitably alerted by the loud scuffle. Ruith staring at him in surprise as two other guards held the scrawny eunuch back by the arms.

"Stop her! She's trying to kill the goddess!" Yasha struggled in a panicked frenzy.

"That's enough, Yasha!" Ruith said firmly. He motioned for the guards to take Meika away. Her poultice bandages had unraveled, fresh bruises on top of the old she had received earlier from the guards' beating. So weak was she that she could barely stand, her limp body half dragged out of the tent. After this direct attempt on the goddess' life, Meika would receive no mercy, no compassion.

Yasha's breath steadied as he shrugged the guards off of him. Needless to say, the fight had attracted nearly the whole camp, as he stepped outside, wading through the congregation. The handmaidens in their nightgowns... Zimri and the other eunuchs reaching out to him, asking what happened, wide-eyed at the blood on Yasha's face and hands.

His gaze sought out Odemyrii.

"Odee—" He caught himself. "Goddess. I'm sorry, I..."

Overwhelmed, he broke away and scurried off into the shadows of the woods.

He didn't run far, still within sights of the firelit camp, a small peek of orange glow between the trees from where Yasha sat, curled up on a rock against a sheltering ledge. No eunuch or guard could comfort him.

"He wants to be alone for a while," Zimri told Odemyrii.

The bitter night chill did well to numb his emotions and the pain of his wounds, realizing the deep cuts on his hands from where they had deflected the blade in wrestling it from Meika, and the dark trails left all over his face and arms by the woman's nails. His tear-stained face, long since dried by the time Odemyrii appeared around the corner.

"Is this what Meika meant by 'dire consequence'?" He sniffled, glancing up at her. "That I can't control myself?"

In the wake of his adrenaline, the eunuch was left aloss in a whirlwind of confusion, guilt and anger, unlike anything he had ever felt before. What was happening to him?

Countess Anétresya

 

[Countess Anétresya]

Yasha affirmed his faith in her yet interrupted by another one of Meika's objections. It was far below a divine entity to extend friendships, especially not with those of much lower status - at least that was what she was raised to believe. Nevertheless, there was a smile of pride that appeared at his response defending her dignity against the heretic.

That smile was soon wiped off. It happened so quickly. Meika's hand extended towards Yasha, a glimmer of silver through her wide eyes was all she saw before the woman seized a fistful of her emerald hair. Odemyrii let out a sharp yelp as her hair was tugged forcefully upwards, and then the dagger was raised. She was going to die. A death two months premature, here in the tent rather than in the temple under the holy tree. As her life flashed before her eyes, there was an intense feeling of anguish that arose within her - Odemyrii realised she did not want to die. Yet.

Just as the dagger was swung, Yasha thrust forward wrestling ahold of the blade with his bare hand and the other pushing Meika to the ground. The grip of her hair was released and Odemyrii scurried backwards on her rear. Yasha called out to her to run, but she found herself too fearful to do so, tears brimming as she witnessed the chaos unfold before her. Meika fought back, drawing blood as she clawed desperately. In all his fury, his fists ploughing repeatedly into her frame, splitting skin and breaking bone. Wrathful - it was unlike the soft-spoken and well-mannered Yasha she knew.

This time, it wasn't her who stopped the assault. Ruith arrived, and so did many others. "Goddess is that true?" The shaken Goddess, with her knees hugged to her chest, nodded. Meika had wanted her dead, the very woman who cared for her and worshipped her for years. "I should never have met with her. That witch should have stayed in the wagon." Her voice trembled. Her handmaidens pushed past the guard, gathering around her, but Odemyrii shrugged them off. "I'm fine." With the best of them now gone, having attempted on her life, Odemyrii didn't know if she could trust any of them. She didn't want to.

As she left the tent, her eyes found Yasha, the younger was surrounded by those of his ranks. Hands and face bloodied. There was both terror and sympathy in her eyes. "Yasha-" She called out, albeit with her voice only above a whisper. While she wanted to go after him, it was the crowd that stood necessary to address first.

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"I will speak to him, Zimri." The Goddess acknowledged with her tone soft yet assertive. In hand hung a small pot of poultice that she had gathered from the other eunuchs - the same ones who held reluctance in contributing part of their ration for the injured, were willing to spare some for a fellow one of their ranks. Then again, it was dishonourable to deny a Goddess' request and hers was not in any way unreasonable. Ruith lingered behind at a respectful distance, keeping a watchful eye as she approached Yasha. After all that happened, the guard wouldn't risk anything else going haywire.

She sat beside him. Palm extended facing upwards in a wordless request for his own. There was a silent understanding between them as she tended to his wounds. The application wasn't the cleanest as she gingerly rubbed the salve onto the lacerations on his hands and arms, wary of hurting him more than she needed to. "What you feel, is only natural of the mortal sentiment. To protect the one you love. It is absolutely nothing to be ashamed of." With her fingers coated in the salve, her hand raised to his cheek. Where Meika had left red ugly marks, she slathered a thin layer of the emollient over them "Everyone knows that you are a hero. My saviour. You protected and defended your Goddess valiantly - that is all that matters to me. " She assured him, the emotion heavy in her voice.

He had suffered because of her, just like the men on the battlefield. Her palms cradled his head as she looked into his grey-blue eyes, admiring how they reflected the glow of the campfire in the distance. She couldn't be any more thankful for his actions, but it wasn't just gratitude that she felt. Yet cognisant that Ruith was watching. Odemyrii, leaned in, placing a tender kiss on his forehead, right above where the ridges of his brows would meet. "Yasha. I am alive because of you. I do not trust anyone more than I do you. Will-" Her voice wavered in sentiment before she paused.

"You shall have the honour of the harvest." The words were now corrected - it was no longer a question or an offer. It was an absolute gift, blessing and promise from the young Goddess herself.
​

 

[A.G.]

The smell of bisaata heralded the goddess' approach. "This...?" Yasha glanced between the pot and Odemyrii. It wouldn't be far-fetched of his belief to think her divinity had conjured the poultice out of thin air, though the truth was equally surprising, where she had gotten it, his brethren who provided it.

Her touch was gentle, the poultice soothing. Moisture sprung to his eyes at her heartfelt words, his gaze enraptured by the face of an angel whose kiss and tender care was both comforting and electrifying. To think he might have never seen her face again... After the goddess' rescue, he didn't think the day could get any better. So much had happened so quickly... The reward his violence had reaped. In the midst of what he felt was truly heaven, in that moment, Yasha didn't know whether to cry or laugh. Nor the words to express such immense gratitude. His actions had spoken volumes enough.

"Then...it is good then," he chuckled giddily, his voice breaking, overwhelmed with sorrow and glee. "I have sinned. I have committed violence. I am no longer eunuch." As of now, he was reborn as the goddess' chosen. The honor of the harvest would pardon all transgressions. Whatever the prelates might say... Yasha had nothing to fear.

The future was far from his mind. The weight of his energy spent, catching up to him, his body heavy and aching, eager for the warm blankets of his tent. Wearily, he smiled at Odemyrii.

"Thank you," he murmured.

Countess Anétresya

— FIN —