Quartet of Divinities:
Disclaimer: I don't own anybody or thing. Darn it!
Before you read, you should know that these people are NOT the Quartet. They'll come later. These are their descendants.
In the Beginning:
Sandris:
She trembled as she put the final touch to her celebratory robes. It was complete, and it was time for her to begin to play her role as priestess to the Weaving Temple. Quietly, she slipped on the heavily embroidered dress. Life in the temple had taught her not to make a sound. Dedicate Hemmings did not appreciate disturbances in the atmosphere. Sandry laughed. Anything that the fussy dedicate didn't like was bound to be fun, minus a few things.
She just couldn't believe that after nine years of isolation, not, of course, counting the other girls she had trained with, she would finally be ready to enter the Streets. She would be Head Priestess. In name only, of course, for a while. Until she turned fourteen, the day that Goddess Sandry received her first student, took on her first experience alone in the world. Then, they would hand over the temple duties to her alone.
It was dark inside, and she had no light. They had made sure that, for the last two weeks, she had been in complete darkness. And in a few minutes, she would have to summon the Power. If it didn't come, as it hadn't for the last few Candidates, a few weeks ago, she would be quietly disposed of, while the next Candidate took her place.
Candidates were trained together, when they were young. She was glad that she had taken the Weaving Temple when she was born. Only the Weaving Temple Candidates were allowed the life of luxury before priestesshood. She pitied the people outside the safe temple walls that no disease could penetrate. They were so poor, and they didn't even realize it.
She absently braided together the few leftover strands of the embroidery threads. It was so dark in here. . . Suddenly, she was nearly blinded by a flash of light coming from the braid. It came in flashes, not in a steady stream, the way the goddess had hers. But it was acceptable. She laughed as power surged through her. It was great to do this!
Dajana:
Dajana, or Dajan, grabbed on to one of the many floating devices around her. She looked to see if any of the other candidates had survived. They hadn't. She could see many bodies around her, and ignored them. They were lowly servants, symbolizing the family that the Smith-Goddess Daja had lost aboard the ship. She also ignored the tears that were overflowing on her face. Obviously, she had triggered an allergic reaction. It certainly wasn't as if she liked any of those low born.
She pushed death to the back of her mind, and concentrated on her two tasks; finding survivors and summoning one of the surakus. If she succeeded, she would qualify as Top Smith in her Guild. Every year, they would do this, to find potential smiths for the guild. It had a high death rate, though, she admitted regretfully as she thought of Dana, Ani, Jorality, Niamara and Kami.
Jorality in particular was her friend, perhaps because they were the same age. Her cousin Niamara was nice, but seemed too young to make a suitable companion. Only eight years to Dajan's ten. She gritted her teeth impatiently and focused on one task, summoning the suraku. "Come, you stupid box." She thought vengefully, and pushed at it with her mind. It shifted, and moved towards her.
"Come!" she thought, and pushed as hard as she could. The box hesitantly floated to her, where she grasped it tightly in her arms, knowing that she had found salvation. Then, she concentrated on her other chore; finding Jory and seeing if she were alive. "Jory!" she called softly. A faint bubbling to her left indicated life. She turned, and carefully paddled to the edge of them. A cheery Nia sprang up. "Hello!" she called to Dajan, who rolled her eyes, since she was only a few centimeters away.
"Where's your cousin?" she asked brusquely. Nia looked hurt, then angry. "She drowned." The younger girl retorted sharply. Dajan's world seemed to spin around her. "She- what?" she snapped. Nia looked fearful, but determined. "She drowned." She repeated carefully, and slowly, as if Dajan were stupid. Changing her tones she remarked, "Now let's get to that island, and wait out the other three days. Or do you wanna wait for the meat eaters to come up and devour you?"
Dajan realized the sense in her words, and began paddling, grumbling all the way. She didn't like taking orders from a younger girl.
((O.K., whatcha think? I know, I know. No Circle of Magic yet! Chapter three is when our favorite heros (and heroines) come in. Sorry guys.. But please REVIEW!!!!!))
~Trisani
Disclaimer: I don't own anybody or thing. Darn it!
Before you read, you should know that these people are NOT the Quartet. They'll come later. These are their descendants.
In the Beginning:
Sandris:
She trembled as she put the final touch to her celebratory robes. It was complete, and it was time for her to begin to play her role as priestess to the Weaving Temple. Quietly, she slipped on the heavily embroidered dress. Life in the temple had taught her not to make a sound. Dedicate Hemmings did not appreciate disturbances in the atmosphere. Sandry laughed. Anything that the fussy dedicate didn't like was bound to be fun, minus a few things.
She just couldn't believe that after nine years of isolation, not, of course, counting the other girls she had trained with, she would finally be ready to enter the Streets. She would be Head Priestess. In name only, of course, for a while. Until she turned fourteen, the day that Goddess Sandry received her first student, took on her first experience alone in the world. Then, they would hand over the temple duties to her alone.
It was dark inside, and she had no light. They had made sure that, for the last two weeks, she had been in complete darkness. And in a few minutes, she would have to summon the Power. If it didn't come, as it hadn't for the last few Candidates, a few weeks ago, she would be quietly disposed of, while the next Candidate took her place.
Candidates were trained together, when they were young. She was glad that she had taken the Weaving Temple when she was born. Only the Weaving Temple Candidates were allowed the life of luxury before priestesshood. She pitied the people outside the safe temple walls that no disease could penetrate. They were so poor, and they didn't even realize it.
She absently braided together the few leftover strands of the embroidery threads. It was so dark in here. . . Suddenly, she was nearly blinded by a flash of light coming from the braid. It came in flashes, not in a steady stream, the way the goddess had hers. But it was acceptable. She laughed as power surged through her. It was great to do this!
Dajana:
Dajana, or Dajan, grabbed on to one of the many floating devices around her. She looked to see if any of the other candidates had survived. They hadn't. She could see many bodies around her, and ignored them. They were lowly servants, symbolizing the family that the Smith-Goddess Daja had lost aboard the ship. She also ignored the tears that were overflowing on her face. Obviously, she had triggered an allergic reaction. It certainly wasn't as if she liked any of those low born.
She pushed death to the back of her mind, and concentrated on her two tasks; finding survivors and summoning one of the surakus. If she succeeded, she would qualify as Top Smith in her Guild. Every year, they would do this, to find potential smiths for the guild. It had a high death rate, though, she admitted regretfully as she thought of Dana, Ani, Jorality, Niamara and Kami.
Jorality in particular was her friend, perhaps because they were the same age. Her cousin Niamara was nice, but seemed too young to make a suitable companion. Only eight years to Dajan's ten. She gritted her teeth impatiently and focused on one task, summoning the suraku. "Come, you stupid box." She thought vengefully, and pushed at it with her mind. It shifted, and moved towards her.
"Come!" she thought, and pushed as hard as she could. The box hesitantly floated to her, where she grasped it tightly in her arms, knowing that she had found salvation. Then, she concentrated on her other chore; finding Jory and seeing if she were alive. "Jory!" she called softly. A faint bubbling to her left indicated life. She turned, and carefully paddled to the edge of them. A cheery Nia sprang up. "Hello!" she called to Dajan, who rolled her eyes, since she was only a few centimeters away.
"Where's your cousin?" she asked brusquely. Nia looked hurt, then angry. "She drowned." The younger girl retorted sharply. Dajan's world seemed to spin around her. "She- what?" she snapped. Nia looked fearful, but determined. "She drowned." She repeated carefully, and slowly, as if Dajan were stupid. Changing her tones she remarked, "Now let's get to that island, and wait out the other three days. Or do you wanna wait for the meat eaters to come up and devour you?"
Dajan realized the sense in her words, and began paddling, grumbling all the way. She didn't like taking orders from a younger girl.
((O.K., whatcha think? I know, I know. No Circle of Magic yet! Chapter three is when our favorite heros (and heroines) come in. Sorry guys.. But please REVIEW!!!!!))
~Trisani