Post by Hallie on Jul 29, 2005 20:14:23 GMT -5
It was still rather early when she made her way into the temple. The sun was nearly two hours from its zenith, by now, and the bright sun beyond the walls of the great temple was shining gaily. The stained glass windows that lined the east and west walls shone brightly on the eastern side, bathing the pews in brilliant rainbows and cherished shapes.
It was here that she did her best thinking, among the brightly lit windows and the peaceful scent of the burning incense. The altar, though modest in adornment, was her solace. Before it lay a kneeling cushion of embroidered silk upon which she placed her knees.
Her joints settled into the grooves made by her over the years. She always knelt in the same place, always composed herself in the same way. The softness of the silk soothed her as a gentle hand might, calming her enough so she could effectively concentrate on her prayer.
Clasping her hands before her, she sighs softly and closes her eyes, her will drains, however, and she crosses her arms on the great altar and lays her forehead against the lower forearm, nestling her face in the dark hollow made there. Soft whimpering followed, echoing throughout the sanctuary with the soft murmuring of her pleas, asking the creator for the safe return of her faithful Priest and the salvation of his charged nation.
She remained there for quite some time, even after her words ceased, just enjoying the quiet and solitude... almost as if to await the company of a friend she knew would never come. The thought never crossed her mind, though, and she felt the overwhelming urge to go to the beach to rejuvenate. Being the sea, it hurts when she has to stray from its waters for too long, and it had been weeks since her last communion.
Through the anguish, she remains, her constant vigil at the altar taking up most of the morning, past the sun's zenith.
It was here that she did her best thinking, among the brightly lit windows and the peaceful scent of the burning incense. The altar, though modest in adornment, was her solace. Before it lay a kneeling cushion of embroidered silk upon which she placed her knees.
Her joints settled into the grooves made by her over the years. She always knelt in the same place, always composed herself in the same way. The softness of the silk soothed her as a gentle hand might, calming her enough so she could effectively concentrate on her prayer.
Clasping her hands before her, she sighs softly and closes her eyes, her will drains, however, and she crosses her arms on the great altar and lays her forehead against the lower forearm, nestling her face in the dark hollow made there. Soft whimpering followed, echoing throughout the sanctuary with the soft murmuring of her pleas, asking the creator for the safe return of her faithful Priest and the salvation of his charged nation.
She remained there for quite some time, even after her words ceased, just enjoying the quiet and solitude... almost as if to await the company of a friend she knew would never come. The thought never crossed her mind, though, and she felt the overwhelming urge to go to the beach to rejuvenate. Being the sea, it hurts when she has to stray from its waters for too long, and it had been weeks since her last communion.
Through the anguish, she remains, her constant vigil at the altar taking up most of the morning, past the sun's zenith.