"In the presence of a Prophet, you are immediately pacified and all negative emotions leave your body. You feel like you have known him for hundreds of sweeps, even at first glance."
Most days, little to nothing could cause Aiyana to pause in her near constant gathering of flowered plants, but today was not most days. There was some sort of commotion in the street, and she couldn't help but wonder what it was about. It wasn't that she wasn't used to commotions, because they were quite common around here, and everywhere really, but this one was a different kind of commotion all together. No one was shouting or fleeing or cheering, there was a distinct lack of violent sounds altogether, and no sharp scent of blood in the air. Instead, people were gravitating slowly toward something shielded from her view, a low murmuring spreading lazily through the crowd. Tying her little basket around her neck, the little red blood darted to the edge of the still growing crowd and dropped to her knees, scampering on all fours among the feet of the adult trolls. She emerged on the other side, standing to her petite full height and swiping at her dress in a futile attempt to ride herself of dust. The murmuring had stopped this far into the circle, and when she lifted her head, she knew why.
Her eyes widened, and like the rest of the crowd, she was was stunned silent. There admist the throng of lowbloods stood a small-ish figure garbed in robes of brown. A shash of red hung from his waste, a brilliant slash of color stood out on his chest. The Mark of Blood. He held out his arms, both hands clenched into upfacing fists. She wondered if perhaps this was some sort of position of prayer, until the familiar tang of blood hit her nose. He was slicing his palms with his nails. Blood overflowed from his hands, brilliant red several shades too bright. The murmurs started up again, whispers of shock and mutation, but soon they died out again. Aiyana swayed back and forth on her bare feet, feeling a sense of calm and comfort she hadn't ever felt in her four short sweeps of life. Comfort only came from knowing you were safe, and you were never safe on Alternia. The figure opened his eyes then, shocking and bright, and the Prophet of Blood began to speak.
He spoke of peace and love, of freedom, of equality across every blood caste. These things were unheard of, unthinkable, unreachable. But he said they were right and just things, that if they worked together they could accomplish them, and beyond reason and sense, Aiyana trusted and believed him, for if Gods exist then he must surely be one.
Homestuck - Andrew Hussie
Ancestor God Tiers - Tumblr User Doxolove
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