CHAPTER 9

Date: May 5th, 110 P.A. / 2114 C.E.

It was fortunate that the incident the night before had not been a public thing, but only between the Priestess, Commander, Attendant, and the God and herself. If this had not been the case, Arei doubted she could have borne to leave her chambers…and when she did, it happened to be rather early in the morning, before the sun had risen. At this time, there were very few people stirring, mostly the cooks to prepare for the breakfasts of numerous people that darted in and out of the kitchens. Arei was one of these early risers, and as discreetly as she could manage, she ducked her head and grabbed a loaf of bread and some cheese, and an apple between her teeth, and darted away. Somehow, she managed to do this and get to the other side of the Temple without being spotted, a thing doable only as a result of drowsy eyes and sluggish minds to register her presence. She curled up on a little corner of the library, finishing her meal, tossing the core of her apple out the window for some of the birds to pick at. For a time, she remained there, staring out into space, struggling with herself on whether or not she should return to her quarters so as not to panic everyone. But then she recalled the previous evening in all its disturbing sharpness….

She didn't feel ready to go back and attempt to explain something she herself did not comprehend. With a shudder, she recalled how fury had moved her of its own accord…why had she hit that man? Why? Because he looked like someone from her nightmare? But she knew that images from reality crept into dreams…he had been one of the last she'd seen before she'd drifted off. It was a fluke, nothing more. A huge mistake.

Well, she'd known that already!

Growling at herself, she stood and began to stomp down the hallways, cursing at herself. There was no reason behind what she'd done! Not that she could figure out. The unanswerable frustrated her, and her muscles continued to coil. She knew she needed an outlet, but she refused to snap at anyone, which was her Handmaidens' usual routine. So, she explored the various rooms near the library on the lowest floor. Though she knew the basic layout of many of the large rooms on each floor, the tinier rooms had escaped her studies. She passed the laundry, nearing the entrance out onto the north grounds…then, she heard conversation.

Not official, business conversation. But chatter. Between a group of people. They sounded like they were happy, enjoying themselves. The sound of friendliness, of laughter and mock outraged cries, immediately attracted the girl. She followed the noise, the sounds of manipulated water and a faint humming adding to it as she neared the area….

The room she came to was a wide one, one wall possessing a long water trough, the liquid running from it in a thin sheet down into the basic, pooling and draining at wait height. Various bowls lay within its waters, along with sponges and various rigid tools. One side of the room had large buckets in which various powders were mixed, a furnace venting the warmth into the building for heat—a kiln, she realized. The other side, the one closer to her, had many of the room's dozen occupants…who all sat at foot-turned pottery wheels. Their hands shaped the clay, rising and falling, into bowls and plates and bottles, some abstract, some to be used. Numerous finished pieces lay out on table, waiting for their first firings, or bone-colored ones waiting to be glazed and fired again. Glass was being melted for various tones for decoration, and closest to Arei lay a table full of moist slabs of clay of varying shades of color. She watched them work for a time, inching her way into the room, unnoticed, unseen.

However, as one of the young woman's bottleneck folded over, the dish refusing to be spread out into a bowl after the neck was cut from it, collapsing in on itself, the potter sighed, throwing the excess clay in a bucket after cutting the ruined piece off, and went over to the table to get another slab—and in the process, saw Arei standing there. She gasped and bowed lowly, her swift act catching the girl off guard and alerting the others to her presence.

Now, Arei knew they were supposedly to bow, showing due respect to her, but she saw some of the larger pieces being worked on, and waved them to stay how they were, sputtered out that they didn't have to, that it was fine, they could sit down…and seeing them all pause in half crouch or bow, even those by the fiery kiln, her eyes darted among them, and to her surprise, caught the familiar face of Marie. She clung to her Handmaiden's gaze.

"Marie! Marie, tell them to stop bowing! It's really not necessary, and their work is—!"

The woman took charge. "Everyone, relax! Your Priestess gave you an order—it may be unconventional, but obey it! Besides, we've got work to do, so get to it. You wouldn't stop if High Messenger Craven dropped by, would you?"

"No, but he's a prick!" someone shouted.

Marie smiled. "True…alright, if Byron dropped by?"

"They're polar opposites. Don't compare them!"

And so, if uncomfortable, the moment passed…but the conversation was not the same. Everyone seemed doubly careful, quiet, guarded, all too aware of the visitor. Frankly, this disappointed Arei, who had up until this point not been a part of a lax group. Now it seemed her position would prevent her from gazing upon the scene, listening, and truly savoring it, taking it in. As she continued to watch, she found herself hungering for the type of easy atmosphere they had possessed before she had been seen…and so, she sought to make herself into, not a watcher, but one of them. It would never work—she could never be one of them with her position—but she could try to meld. And if that did not work, then perhaps she could still enjoy the company of so many other females, and mix enough that they wouldn't mind her being there.

As Marie finished her piece, a giant salad bowl, Arei went up to her, somewhat nervous, and asked to be shown the ropes.

Marie took one look at her and said, "In those clothes? That hairstyle? Okay, if you really want, but first, let's try to make sure you avoid getting all messy. God Abaddon would not like it if you got clay on his nice pelt."

There was an inference there, but in her innocence Arei missed it. She allowed Marie to throw a large apron over her probes, let her pull back Arei's long hair into a loose bun, and drew her over to the table with all of the blocks of clay. She proceeded to explain to Arei how to kneed the slab to get all of the air bubbles out, as too many in a piece would cause it to explode in the kiln. After about ten minutes, they cut it in half, finding no pockets, and melded the chunks together again, taking it to a wheel. From there, the teenager sat down on a stool and watched as Marie plopped the chunk onto the black circle, instructing Arei to wet the clay and wheel down with water. After that, she taught the girl how to center the piece, how to move her legs to spin the wheel.

By this point, most of the room's occupants were watching out of the corners of their eyes, curious as to just what was going on. As Arei began to lift her clay into a cone, then press it back down in a little mound, again and again, many of them stopped what they were doing to watch. Marie continued to watch the holy female, teaching her how to depress the center at a slight angle, giving her techniques to raise the edges, to smooth the sides and inside with tools. As a bowl was formulated, Arei grinned widely, not caring that the walls of the dish were not even, not that the base was still too thick. She had made something…and the wet clay felt wonderful to shape and form beneath her fingertips…!

When she looked up, she first saw Marie's grin…and then saw everyone else's. She jerked in surprise, the sides of her bowl crumpling inwards at the motion. Everyone sighed, especially seeing Arei's crestfallen look. But her Handmaid merely smiled, taking her hands away, and cut the ruined bowl from the wheel with a thread of wire, and set it with the other finished piece.

"As if we'd throw our Priestess' first piece into the bucket. It's called abstract art, people. We all get one of those at first, eh?"

The other smiled and got back to work, the vets sharing a private joke. Marie proceeded to show Arei how to clean up and sign her piece, how to scrub the wheel and her tools, and set her off on her own. Three hours and nine tries later, Arei was busy making a deep bowl, by this time used to the potters smiles and comments.

"You're either a natural, Priestess, or Marie's a better teacher than she's let on."

"I say she's a quick learner. Though I got to say, I never got a big bowl on my first dozen tries—"

"Maybe you were a potter in a past life, my lady! Now wouldn't that be something?"

Arei absorbed their words eagerly, for once utterly happy. There were no rules here in art, no resentment or worry. She was safe with Marie, and so safe with these others. At least, some deep part of her felt she could trust them. They wore all from different groups in the Temple…a scribe here and there, some servants, and cook, mostly gardeners…all bond by a common purpose, a common love. As Marie explained it, this was their stress relief, as well as the sources of many of their sculptures and art around the Temple, as well as the group that supplied all of the dishes (ceramic-wise). Later, Arei would be taught how to mix glaze, the different elements and hues changing after being exposed to the super-heated kiln—do not be deceived by the liquid's color, she advised. At any rate, the group had chosen the activity for fun, and as an excuse to gossip. Most wouldn't have known each other if not for it.

"Besides, it does wonders for your hands…as long as you're got lotion to keep them moisturized, you come out with some real soft hands!"

"I'll bet your lover will appreciate that, Clarice!"

"Oh, I do!"

Laughter...Arei blushed as the topics delved into intricate matters not apparently for her "virgin ears." Instead, she distracted herself by focusing on her pieces, humming as she worked. It all felt so wonderful…so familiar. Her hands working the clay, the friendly, if dirty chatter, the faint echoes of external affairs as the day picked up. The faint hum of the turning wheels, the delighted tight ache in her legs as she spun and switched them to turn the wheel. She continued to hum under her breath, not noticing how the room had gone quiet, all action stopped.

"So, THIS is where you ran off to!"

Arei jerked back, only just managing to avoid ruining her piece. Her God's voice rang in her ears, crisp and sharp, and she bolted out of her stool, spinning around to face him. Everyone else had bowed without her hearing or seeing, so transfixed she had been in her work, and now they peered up at the two to view the spectacle, even though his words were private to her, unheard by them.

She stared up at him…and suddenly felt rather resentful for the frigid feel his presence had created in the room, so impersonal and stern, breaking her concentration and her peace. "Yes. Is that alright?"

He cocked his head at her, surprised at her tone. "…You are enjoying yourself?"

The question was not what she'd expected his reaction to be. "Well, yes. And I'd like to stay for a while yet."

"This is fine. The rest of your day is clear. Afterwards, we shall talk about what exactly transpired last night. Until then, you may enjoy your activities here," he stated, turning away.

"But—"

His eyes narrowed. "Yes? What is it?"

She summoned up her courage and her grasp of vocabulary. "I believe it would prove…beneficial, for me to continue to visit here. I do not believe I am a bother to the other potters, so I ask you, my lord, if this can become a continuous retreat for me in case of the need to…vent."

He stared…his eyes straying to Marie. "Ask her if she will voice for this affair."

Arei did so, giving her Handmaiden a silent, pleading look…Marie nodded. "We would be glad to have her here."

The others nodded, not seeing to mind, or at least siding with the girl they were coming to grow fond of like a little sister. Clearly from how the god was acting, she was no spy, but just a kid, looking for a hangout to unwind in. This place would serve as well as any. After all, there were plenty of wheels, and they could always use another hand.

The seraph considered this…and nodded. "Very well. But on these conditions: first, you will not make a routine schedule of this. Routine is what those who plot against you will follow, and this will be your own pursuit—I shall not be here to protect you. Second—Marie must be in this room with you. She is trustworthy. Third—if you are ever injured beyond a simple cut or scrap, you will be barred from this place. And fourth…you will be immaculate before you return to our floor or to society in general. Do you understand?"

She gave a stunned nod, and he turned away, beginning to leave, and then called over his shoulder. "And Arei…? There is a glaze called dragon's blood. I think you'd like it. Enjoy yourself, and…wipe that smudge off of your cheek."

She made a quick motion to do so, not recalling that her hands were covered in slop. She only made more of a mess of herself, causing her god to chuckle at her dismay, the other catching one and laughing as well at her embarrassment good-naturedly. Arei, flushing, went over to the water through and cleaned her face and hands in the spray, letting the fluid cool her face. The burn slowly faded…Abaddon was gone when she turned around.

She went back to her piece. Eventually, the talks began again. But the debates now had a central subject—God Abaddon. His visitation had shocked the entire group, even though the reason for it was now before them. For Arei, she did not idolize him, but viewed him as a guardian. She was used to his presence…most of those around her viewed him only on formal occasions, from a distance. Because of this, she did not speak, save to inform Marie of the regulations that had been set in place for her visitations to the room. Marie nodded…and the conversation delved into matters Arei did not comprehend. At the mention of the distant "Spirit's Eve" festival, she looked up from her work, and said:

"I've heard of that night before. Marie, please, tell me, what does Spirit's Eve entail?"

Her Handmaiden blinked. "You mean for you? Um…Arei, I'm not sure if that's suitable a subject for you…."

"Huh?"

A blond with hair as short as a man's cried, "Oh Marie, just tell her. She'll find out anyhow. Besides, it's better if she knows beforehand."

By this point, the girl was thoroughly confused…her subject just sighing. "Well…I suppose you're right, Katra. Priestess, Spirit's Eve is a celebration we hold on the night of the summer solstice. We use it to advocated various forms of passion…mostly of the bodily type, as a flourish of sensual, intimate activities to linger as the nights begin to grow longer. It is the only night where affairs and carnal love is encouraged…many babes, you should know, are conceived on that night. Passion runs the people then, their souls alight with flame, desire, and indulgences. Even those people who are considered too holy to sully themselves with lustful entertainments are allowed to savor another's warmth…."

She was blushing faintly as she said it, but then shook her head, her gaze rising to meet Arei's perplexed one. "…And that includes you and the God, High Priestess. If you wish it."

Clearly the girl did not fully understand. For although she had been educated in how new beings came into existence, what mating was, the idea of herself and her God exploring such activities was beyond her. She explained as much to Marie…the mood of the woman becoming solemn.

"My lady, how much have you read of the Book of Rebirth?"

She referred to the holy text of their empire. There has been other sacred texts, once, but they had been lost a century past.

"I've read most of the first part and flipped through the second and third. Why?"

"So, you've read the Apocalypse myths. Well, next time you get the chance, I suggest you look towards the end of the second doctrine. The mention of a Priestess' duty comes into play there. I'll give you the footnotes, but you really should read the entire thing carefully, for your own sake."

The woman looked down at her half-formed piece, and let her hands manipulate the rim towards the center. "At any rate, Priestess Arei, one in your position is, as you know, one of, if not the most respectful and honored human in our order. You have power no other mortal can hope to possess…you speak for our God, you serve him as nearly an equal. But for that comes great risk. From all sides…even from that of our High Lord. For even as you are his figurehead, you are also his scapegoat. According to the words from the Book, if he wants look, he shall take the Priestess'. If he wants joy, rapture, he shares her body for some nights. A Priestess is not only a voice…she is a vessel. If she be only for him, and not something of his, is a matter of heated debate."

From all of that, Arei took out some key terms—her God, for all he had granted her, owned her body. Basically put, he could do what he wanted with it. That was what Marie was saying, essentially. And Spirit's Eve, Arei realized, must be one of those night's when such was allowed.

"So…the summer solstice…when it comes, he might—?"

Marie's head snapped up, and she shook her head, denying it vigorously. "I did NOT say that! Yes, there is a possibility…but it's slim to none. God Abaddon has never gone through with either of those acts. He's never taken a Priestess to bed with him—"

"That's not completely accurate, Marie. He did once—"

"Well yes, but from how I was told, it was a one-time deal. He supposedly did not care for it any—"

"What are you talking about?" Arei interrupted the budding argument. And unfortunately, with her status, they had to answer her.

There was hesitance however…and suddenly, a male voice spoke from the doorway. "They're talking about High Priestess Christina Alexandria, my lady Arei."

Arei's orchid eyes focused on his figure, her startled reaction to his appearance settling at the knowledge his eyes possessed. "Who was she?"

The Attendant crossed his arms, entering the room, facing her. "She was a Priestess appointed prior to the turn of the new century. She is one of the most memorable figures in the history of our order."

Seeing how Arei's expression had grown hungry for more knowledge, he shrugged to Marie, letting her continue. She had already explained the duty of her superior well enough…let her explain the story of the most famous of all the priestesses as well.

Marie sat back, and began, "And she was remembered for numerous things. She was eight years your senior, Arei, when she took up her post. Magnanimous, beautiful, courteous to the point where she could make even bitter enemies see her ways, even agree, she was everything a person could want for their empress. She was gentle, wise, and loved her lesser like a mother would her children…there were many laws passed during her reign that improved conditions for the people, and she was approved of being nearly all members of each class individually. Christina, Nocturne's brightest star, was an empress who captured the hearts of all she met. Even, to some extent, God Abaddon.

"By around this point in time, God Abaddon had ruled for over half a century, studying and watching over those who followed him. He knew much of the common psyche; he had explored as many of the areas he could with his mind. But for all his knowledge, he only had a very limited, detached understanding of two powerful things which drove humans—lust and love. He grew curious of both, and attempted to comprehend them through analyzing the memories of others…feeling through their emotions. However, this was not experience in itself. For years the Council of Priests had been urging him to take a lover, be it pokémon or human. To both, he refused. Mew, his opposite, who many thought would have been an ideal mate, was a creature he rejected with force, a mutual treatment. The idea came them for a Priestess to offer herself in such a manner, in the hopes that through her holy body he would conceive an heir—for while we knew God Abaddon would live almost indefinitely, the truth was, he could be injured. He could be killed. He is mortal, and so his followers hoped for him to make a child to lead after him. Obviously, they have not succeeded in such.

"But back to my original point. As time went on, God Abaddon grew more and more intrigued on the matter of physical and emotional love. Eventually, the interest peaked, and on Spirit's Eve, he asked Christina if she would allow him inside of herself. Now, that is intriguing, for it displays something about out God's character that previous to this there was no indication of—that he was not a completely forceful creature. He could have taken her regardless of her choices. There are those who think he was just trying to get her consent because he knew that her fighting him would not make the experience pleasant…but I'm not so certain. Yet, despite that, she said yes. There is also speculation on what her motives were, but we can be fairly certain she went through with it to express something to him…though what that was, only God Abaddon knows.

"Since there are no spy-holes in the walls within the Priestess' quarters, the exact details of that night aren't known. However, servants did find blood on Christina's sheets, and she had a limp the day afterward. It would indicate that both of them lost their virginity…. Anyhow, Abaddon, afterwards, was altered slightly. Perhaps it was because he had inflicted pain inside her, or for some other reason, but he never again asked to share a night with her. He treated her with a form of respect one might give an equal…a rare thing for him.

"I do believe they cared for each other…at least him to her. But they did not love one another…there was a mutual understanding between them, and faint intimacy as between distant friends. At any rate, Christina did not become pregnant, at least to our knowledge."

As the woman trailed off, Arei asked, in a quiet voice. "…Is that all? Is there more?"

Marie seemed to come back to herself. "Well, yes, but it's quite sad. Are you certain you wish to hear it?"

Arei nodded.

"Alright…now understand, this is fact, not rumor. There came to be a day when Christina was being paraded back from the capital after addressing a doctrine of new regulations set in play that would, if all worked out properly, would ensure no governmental interference from the Holy and Military order into the Common on trading affairs. This would lead to a new time of wealth and happiness, it was hoped…but unfortunately, the day was marked as one of tragedy, not hope.

"Understand, Arei, that to go out without her God was a move she made knowing the full risks of her actions. The rebels, up to that point in time, had taken to guerilla strikes at the edges of our borders. But there were rumors that they were lurking in the capital, setting up a hit against her at this official ceremony. She went anyhow, against Abaddon's orders, in order to help her people with the new freedom she wished to give them…. Yes, precautions were taken. The army actually caught much of the group that came to attack her. It was thought to be safe….

"But unfortunately, we were wrong. Christina was assassinated at noon with a single sniper's shot to the brain. It killed her instantly, in front of thousands of people. There was rioting for days afterwards…the mourning lasted weeks. The Priests grieved along with all of the people…and even Abaddon was not the same. He did his task, appointing a new Priestess…but he refused to speak for days.

"When he did, it was to enforce a new procedure onto the militia. As a result of their actions, God Abaddon authorized the Cleansings, annual sweeps of the country with the goal of destroying all rebellion against them. Christina's death was the catalyst for the war between the Rebels and those of the Pantheon. It is still ongoing, and no country fights as fiercely as we.

"But still…it does not change the tragedy of Christina Alexandria. She did nothing but support her people…and for such kindness, she was murdered. She is remembered as our greatest empress…after that, how could she not be? I was only a child when she died…but I remember how my family wept. We all do."

And on that note, the story concluded…leaving Arei with more questions than ever, but knowing better than to voice them to the sad group around her. She wasn't even sure if she could. Instead, she thought on what she had just heard…on Abaddon and his one-time lover….

Eventually, though, after Attendant Byron had left, Marie grew weary of the somber mood. "My companions-in-pottery, we're running low on clay. Why don't we take a break and go collect some from the beach? How's that sound?"

Arei, having never been to the beaches, was excited over the prospect. They cleaned up, got some buckets and cutting tools, and trekked down the paths through the gardens, down the plateau, to sea level. For Arei, the tripe was fascinating…she had never before been so far from the Temple, so close to the town! Still on holy grounds, not many people were there…those who were collecting sea salt or picking the sand for little treasures, such as bits of glass smoothed to beautiful flat stones, seashells, shellfish for dinner buried in the sand. The pottery troupe continued until the sands melted into rocky shores, which they crept along carefully, ankle-deep in seaweed and algae. No one waded, and soon enough, they were out in the shallows or against the cliffs, searching for good, soft clay amongst the stone and silt. After finding a good thread of it, the women, robes hitched up, began to dig, pulling out chunks and filling their buckets. Arei helped, her fingernails caked with gray sludge, but did not mind, even as the cool water reduced her to shivers as they worked.

When they finally went back, the girl was tired, cold, but satisfied…she had enjoyed herself thoroughly, and looked forward to a warm bath to end her day. For a time, she even managed to forget the talk Abaddon wished to have with her…let Christina slip from her mind. But as night fell, they came back into her mind as she stood before him, trying to explain to herself as much as to him why she had struck the Commander.

All she managed to convey was, "He reminded me of someone in my nightmares…and I…went out of control. I'm sorry, really, I'm…."

"Do not blubber, Arei. It does not suit you. As long as there is no repeat of this, I will accept what you did as a fluke…a simple mistake. But you must not let such dreams control you. They are figments and nothing more. If I must, I will clear your mind of them if they cause further issues. But I would rather not tamper with your mind, you understand?"

She nodded…he began to walk away. She recalled Christina, and desired to ask him about her. And yet…how could she? How would he react? Would he be upset, enough to make her stop seeing the potters? She did not wish for that, and after being scolded her bravery was stricken. She let it rest, but was determined to ask him some other time.

Yet, gazing at him, she wondered…would she be so memorable and great a priestess? She doubted she could be, for at time like these, she felt like such a child. Perhaps her only fate would be to die early, to fade away into shadow like the other priestesses, nameless and unnoticeable. And yet, she wanted to be recalled. If not by the people, then at least by him, to some extent….

It was not so wrong a desire. But to possess the dream, when it could very well be out of reach? That was her task alone, her challenge…and another matter entirely. It might never occur. Yet…her heart wanted to try. To try to not fade away.