multiversallogs | Traveling through casual space past aloof stars, across the way of indifferent suns

Who: Brendig, priest of the Twelve Point Divinity, and YOU.

What: Just an afternoon at the Mog Hill Divinity Temple

Where: Twelve Point Divinity Temple, near Votarysgate.

When: Newdi ~~Monday~~. If anyone wants to come along later, just put the date in the comment subject.

Notes: There's an OOC post for all your discussion needs.

From the outside, the Mog Hill Temple is a unprepossessing building with a plain wood door and walls clean of graffiti or signs. Upon entering the building, there is a wide, airy hallway with a lone, elderly man sitting in front of a shoerack and a collection of pillows. A sign reminds visitors to ensure their shoes are clean or to leave them behind and that cushions can be borrowed so worshippers can sit in comfort in front of their alcove of choice.

The centre of the building itself is a rectangular room made of unpainted sandstone ringed by twelve, equal sized recesses in the walls, each one containing a symbol of a different god: a collection of parrot feathers in a handthrown clay vase, a mirror, a black stone bowl with a collection of badger's teeth, a decorated katara resting on a patch of lion's skin, a golden ram's horn wrapped in pale blue silk, an almost organic looking metalwork tree, an empty alcove, a dish of candy, an unusually large dragonfly wing suspended in midair, a blue glass bottle filled with some sort of liquid, a banana leaf bowl of rice, and an obsidian knife. On the floor in front of each recess, there is a collection of offerings: incense, votives, and various other items as preferred by that specific deity.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Well, wasn't this a fun group?

Apollo sighed. It wasn't as if he was about to go up to the priest and mock the temple. If it hadn't been for the fact that leaving Cassandra in a foreign temple with three strange men seemed like a bad idea, he would have left.

After casting a quick glance at his shoes, he slipped them off and set them beside the others. If one stray little comment was going to cause an outrage amongst the travelers, he'd sit back quietly and observe.

Fun or not, Sebastian isn't comfortable with the way this meeting has gone and does a poor job of hiding his relief as he checks his CiD.

"I'm terribly sorry, I should've turned this off before entering the temple. You'll have to excuse me," he says with a polite, but sheepish smile as he bows to the old man watching the shoes and takes his leave.

Jack notices that Sebastian is checking his CiD and acting as though he's received a message, even when Jack himself hasn't heard anything of the sort. He watches Sebastian hurry off, and is torn between following after him and staying put, because Ianto's the one who asked him along, and he doesn't want to just up and abandon the other man like that.

So he hangs back instead, as he toes off his shoes, and covertly sneaks his CiD out and sends him out a message instead. Killing two birds with one stone, really.

Ianto looked after Sebastian's retreating form. The deception was obvious to anyone with a keen eye, but Ianto didn't blame the other man for taking an easy out. Glancing at Jack, Ianto noticed he was hanging back and covertly using his CiD.

With a little smile, he toed off his shoes, lined them up neatly and took one of the pillows on offer. With a respectful nod to the elderly man, he looked down the hallway, wondering which altar he might visit first. He wasn't familiar with these gods, or what they represented. With a pang of conscience, he wondered if he ought to have done some research first.

Cassandra couldn't help but sigh as she watched Sebastian retreat. Typical. Just when she started to like someone, just when she started to trust someone, they had a way of disappointing her, betraying that trust in one fashion or another. She could choose to blame it on the curse, but the reality had long ago edged its way into the corners of her consciousness. It wasn't the curse that drove people away. It was her.

She picked up one of the pillows and followed Ianto. No more talking, for now, she decided. Her mouth always managed to get her in trouble.

Instead, she silently glanced at each of the alcoves, taking note of the different artifacts nestled within. The metalwork tree caught her attention. It made her think immediately of the Rowan Tree, of the gate that had first pulled her from her demise, nearly two years ago. Could it be that the Rowan Tree existed in this world? That it had someone brought her here?

She didn't know, but she desperately wanted to find out.

But it was up to the men to decide where they went first. When Cassandra made decisions, it ended poorly.

Apollo walked along the recesses and began examining their contents. To be truthful, he wasn't entirely certain how to categorize the gods--he assumed they were each devoted to a god?--based on the objects. Feather, for example, could be a good of the sky or god of freedom or god of the air. The knife was likely a god of war, but perhaps hunting--

And a pang for Artemis there

--or a god of childbirth, even. He wondered if they would ever meet these deities. He wasn't sure how he would react to that.

Jack hung back from the rest of the crowd, covertly shooting messages out back to Sebastian whilst keeping an eye on Ianto as well. He wasn't quite going to look around as much as the rest of them, and certainly wasn't interested in the deities themselves. But Ianto had asked him along, and he was getting to see a little more of the city that he might not otherwise have seen, so. He supposed that there was something to be accomplished in this trip. Somehow.

As the new arrivals look about and peer into the alcoves, an older man in plain but serviceable clothes and without shoes or socks enters the temple proper, pauses for a moment in silence, and then turns to address the visitors.

"Good afternoon, is there anything I can do for you?" If he'd heard the early disparaging remarks, he's polite enough not to comment on it. (Yet.)

Ianto straightened, recognizing the authority of the man who'd just entered. He smiled politely.

"Good afternoon. Could you possibly tell us the symbolism of the altars? We're new here, and unfamiliar with these gods."

Cassandra bowed her head. It wasn't out of respect. She had problems with priests of the gods. And she knew she had to curtail her behavior. No good would come out of lashing out. Especially not to a total stranger. And she supposed that the gods of this land had done nothing against her. Yet, anyway. She just had a natural instinct to hiss and spit like a rabid cat, any time a man of the cloth showed up.

"Yes," she murmured, fighting to keep her voice level. "We would like to learn more."

Apollo politely inclined his head.

He would stay quiet, because truthfully, he was skeptical of all this business and he didn't want to lie about that. But, in all fairness, it was another world now. And he wanted to learn about it.

Wanted to learn who was more powerful than him in this world.

"There's an alcove for each of the twelve gods," he says with the tone of someone who is genuinely interested in helping, but also quite familiar with the routine of explaining.

"Carme, Ceith, Eliandre, Gediron, Haneul, Kavan, Maryis, Ruun, Shada, Rundas, Toivo, and Vell," he continues, gesturing to each object in turn. "The items in their alcove are not idols, but representations of their providence and interests."

Traveling through casual space past aloof stars, across the way of indifferent suns

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