Disclaimer: Still don't own ToS and still not making money on any of this. Boy, I wish I was...
Note: This was part of an ABC challenge that was Tales of Symphonia themed. So I was given the word and went with it from then.
Apostrophe
"(noun) the addressing of a usually absent person or a usually personified thing rhetorically"
"Oh holy goddess Martel, in whose name we pray..."
It was a phrase murmured countless times through the ages by the adoring public that bowed their heads during service, by the priests during their daily studies, and especially by the Chosen during their Journey of Regeneration. Following those words came hopes, requests, and pleas. After service, people would retreat back into their daily lives, content with the knowledge that a supreme deity was looking out for them and what would be would be. There was no responsibility on their hands.
None really stopped to think that never had Martel ever spoken back. They were largely content with the explanation that she slept, hearing their voices in her dreams.
Only three souls knew the truth and they derived no comfort from it.
One was in constant mourning for what had been. The closeness of kinship and belonging taken away in an instant had twisted his mind to a state that it could never return from. For him, there was no future. His every breath and will was devoted to returning things to their rightful state. He still spoke to her, willing to believe that she could still hear him in her dreams. He would tell her his plans, his feats, and gave reassurances that they would soon be together again. But she would never answer, not yet.
Another was in unrelenting grief for what could have been. The loss of the one he loved and further losing her to idolization had infused a madness into his weary body and brilliant mind to seek an end, to finally let her rest. For him, there must be no past. His every bit of cunning went to staying one step ahead and one step closer to his chosen goal. He still spoke to her though, not being able to deny himself the possibility that she could hear him in her dreams. He would speak hesitantly, falteringly, eventually berating himself before her that he still could not let her go completely. But she would never answer, never ever.
The third paid attention to the present, thinking of little else. The past held too much pain and the future only promised more. But that was then and later and for now he was content with a loving partner and happy little child; they were his world now. Sometimes, though, at night, he'd look up at the stars and remember. He'd never talk to Martel though, figuring he'd never know what to say.
Instead the earth and he would sit in companionable silence.