Quoted By:
''Hiding in your mommy's skirt like that is pathetic.'' One of them says a little bit too loudly and gods above is it difficult to ignore that... but you swallow your pride. This treatment is still better than removing your hat to reveal your ears, they and likely everyone within earshot will realize <span class="mu-s">what</span> and not <span class="mu-s">who</span> you are, reducing you to be a coveted gem, a false prophet, a pet.
An overabundance of empathy is poison.
The doors of the church are neither fully open nor closed, you only need a slight push to make space for your litheness to slip inside and welcome the grace of mankind respect for their divine parents. The church was big from the outside and it seems even bigger here: there's enough space for 200 hundred people to sit amongst the pews and they'd likely be able to house twice as many before reaching full capacity.
You see three teenage acolytes sweeping the already immaculate floor, a massive golden-red carpet has been laid out in the middle lane without benches. Statues of the gods -even a few of Mother Earth's Golden Guardians who protect the faithful against blood magic- sit at unhealthy elevations.
The pride of the church is near the main altar.
Above the bishop's altar is a statue of two joined hands carved out of the walls. It is holding up the bubble of Mother Earth web, Eichenwald's great center of power. It appears as a distortion in reality, as if continuous hot hair flowed out of the palms but strands of brilliant gold flashing on odd intervals revealed its true purpose. This is Eichenwald connection to the divines, where the faithful sacrifice tiny -harmless- parts of their souls for the protective Father Sky and the loving Mother Earth. All noises from outside lower to a bothersome buzz, this is the realm of the gods.
With a life spent on the road, churches always gave you a rare sense of familiarity. From shrines to cathedrals, people all over the Allied Kingdoms respect and love their Parents Gods even if the institution of Unity itself is... problematic.
''All I need is an hour.''
''And I cannot allow you to go into the enclave because I cannot trust you will not whisk Seyraphal out of there, she cannot leave!''
''I only need to make her Rot Lung medicine! Did you embrace the Closed Fist when I was away!?''
Case in point.
Two people are arguing beneath the divine manifestation of Unity. One of them is the bishop, garbed in the usual blue-dark robe of the faith. Thick grayish-dark brown hair pulled backward displays a face you'd describe as similar to a dry fish due to his naturally big eyes, the man gives you the impression of leading a stressful life because many lines of worry have been carved in his face.
