Written in sixth grade for a contest on deviantART. Link on my profile. Excuse the shortness, and all historical inaccuracies should be blamed on my Ancient Greece textbook.
Sami
Greek Poshamble
Bakura was on his way to the great oracle Delphi, as it was time to perform his shift. Before he exited his small shelter, he bowed ritualistically to his altar, praying to Zeus and Hera. Bakura put on his bleached-white chiton and went through the curtained door of his modern, mud-brick home.
His partner priest was running late, it seemed. The sun was high, it was obviously time to go. Ryou was always, lets say, punctual. Bakura turned one of the many street corners and ran into his near-duplicate. "Oh, so you've decided to go, huh?" Ryou rolled his eyes at the other priest and simply muttered, "I was busy."
Bakura snorted. "Too busy to keep the will of the gods? For shame, I thought you knew the consequences of that. "Bakura took out a miniture sundial and gasped. "C'mon! We've gotta get there in two degrees of sunlight!" He grabbed the other priest's wrist and dragged him through the mid-day bustle of market, kicking up dust along the way.
Reaching the entrance of the temple, the identical snowy-haired priests gasped for air."We...made...it...!"They were just in time, as well. The noon rush was lining up near the temple, and the two men knew they had a long day ahead of them. Bakura, breathing heavily still, went into the cool shade of the temple.
During the first half of the job, he would be inside, directing those with more serious queries to the Pythia, or priestess. Ryou would be answering the lesser problems outside, just so that this holy shrine would not be crowded. A young lady came in.
"Hello, priest." She bowed low. "I have but one question for Apollo, his holiness." Bakura nodded gruffly as he led her through. One thing he hated about this job was how formal everyone always was. It was almost hard to understand them sometimes. They came to the sacrificial chamber. The goat she was carrying was laid down onto the dirt floor.
Bakura held the water and sprinkled it onto the goat, which in turn shivered. The shivering meant that the goat agreed to being sacrificed, and Apollo would give word. The goat was slaughtered, and the woman asked her question." My husband...he is sick. Should I try to heal him, or shall I let him be and recover?" Bakura wrote this on a piece of papyrus and held it in the next room.
The Pythia's moaning and unidentifiable words were all that could be heard. Bakura exited the priestess' chamber and interpreted the message. "Your husband shall heal on his own if his heart is pure. Do not attempt to cure his ailments. "Worst of all, Bakura hated having to talk like that himself.
Yet another confused citizen stepped towards the tired priest, and he knew it was going to be a LONG day...