love is filled with something

The moment that the contents of the bowl moistened his lips, pressed pink against the rim of the bowl, Indrith immediately felt a disconnect from his own heart. It's difficult to describe- a heartbeat that felt like a knock rather than a pulsating rush of warmth or even a thin veil over his senses- but regardless it was something misaligned inside him.

A kick of fresh air leaked through his airways- painfully raw and unfiltered freshness that cut open the sides of his throat. While all practicalities would denote him as someone who was 'drinking' the brutal wind choking him would judge otherwise. Rough gasps break out and Indrith turns to the woman behind him.

Or he would've if he could've.

Dry heaving over the broken red bowl with reddened eyes, he posed a rather uncouth figure. It's lucky no one was there to witness it. Quickly Indrith corrected himself, the word was eerie. There was no one watching him?

Not that he was going to dwell on that- not with the more pressing intrusion of his body. A dizzying clarity threatened to break through every sense- but like a gauze his mind refused to allow it to accommodate itself into his body. Of all things sacred, he's starting to believe this was something sacrificial rather than just some initiation.

By the time he's caught back into the awareness of things, he's already dull to the shock of change. He's sure, he thinks, that if he were to have not just felt what it meant to be rebuilt from his innards he would afford the decency to throw a fit.

The priestess is missing. The moon had set into a glowering gaze upon the world. The kingdom of Tieza was as bare as it had always been. In his peripherals he sees a couple of leaves fluttering by the altar.

But no- that wasn't quite right.

A blink and he's hearing a haze of voices and soft fingers only possible for those soaked in cruelty- but yet his eyes, his mind was still in this tranquil soaked night. A distorted voice that sounded like more than just a choir of spirits resounded in his ears-

"What is wrong with you?"

Well, aside from the quickly draining faith for all the world's origins, Indrith has to say he's doing pretty well. Before he could muster the strength, like a dunk of ice cold water, he's back to where he should've been.

How kind.

Touching his dried lips, despite the stillness in his heart, his face was still deeply bewildered. Perhaps it was the natural way he was meant to react. Instead, if he was honest with himself, there was excitement.

"Rather than that- What did that do?"

"Nothing. Why are you overreacting?"

Shaky vision slowly meets her eyes. No time has passed, and he was still holding the bowl. Wasn't it broken a second ago? Not anymore, apparently. Convenient, really, but the unease really did nothing for him.

He takes a deep breath. Okay, so maybe he might be lacking something in his head. Deciding to try to act normal to a world he's sure wasn't the one he was seconds ago he opens with-

"Sorry, what was I supposed to do?" he tries, "I got caught up in the mystique of such a historical monument that I was far too-"

"You were supposed to drink before I tied your bloodline to the temple." she interrupts before he could open a thesaurus of words that shouldn't be used so lightly. "If you didn't shake off my hands like that."

Indrith's eyes follow her steady gaze at a still filled bowl and truly wonders. Either he's got some oddly timed problems to solve or for the first time he's gotten in touch with a power that truly was higher than his. Who would shake off such an opportunity to be force fed some mysterious substance?

Sinking into some kind of habit, he smiles and- "My apologies,"

He gulped it down quickly, with far less elegance than the first time. Contrasted to the unnatural purity of before, it was almost disappointing. Just water. Really, with the budget, he'd appreciate maybe some aged wine or something fancy. It goes down smoothly, and he feels almost deprived of something looking at the empty bowl.

Maybe nothing so fancy as whatever he had created in his mind, he finalizes.

The priestess' eyes looked confused. Disappointed if he didn't recognize it already-well, disappointed, but with a different intent.

… Well, he's not going to acknowledge it. It wouldn't bring much benefits and it's only inconvenient. He looks away and lets her reorient her thoughts, whatever they may be. Before long (Indrith is only glad she's at least a professional) she takes the bowl away to the altar.

"Please accept this offering," she murmurs like a bubbling creek, "from a young man from the eastern shoals- of a blessing we know not of which is relinquished- please let it be free and return to the benevolent god should they exist."

Indrith remains quiet listening to her practiced prose. If he was a second-hand witness, he would've assumed that there was far more formality than just a self-written biography and real-time instructions.

"Let the blessings of the earth manifest once more, in a loyal subject."

She places the plate in a drawer under the altar's candles and blows them out. Applause for her performance roared in his heart. Had he not seen her completely blank face, he would've believed her sincerity.

"Your hands."

"Wow, so is this why you wanted to do this ceremony?"

Before she could properly get angry at him, he raises his hands out. If he was told honestly, to complete this-

She digs a sharpened armored claw on her index finger into the center of his left palm and lets it drip into the candle. Blankly he could only gape as the blood solidified into an unnaturally refined orb.

"You should've just avoided becoming a priest in the first place," she laughs, "It would've been far easier to get your hand then."

"Lady Anri…" He lets the name sit, "Ms. Anri now, I suppose,"

She smiles, with no less derision on her features, "And so, High priest Indrith?"

"Your escort isn't here?"

"It's not as if he is my knight," she laughs with some mirth while toying with the blood in her fingers.

Mulling over the empty conversation, Lady Anri takes it as a closing statement and places the crimson bead in a container.

He wipes his eyes now the formalities and the air of absurdly present arrogance has faded and stands up from his knees. Getting light-headed he comes to in the increasingly familiar nighttime vision of the temple. Really, it's only so familiar from it's incapabilities of staying away from him. You can really only know something the third meeting—... he really hope that he doesn't have to.

Now far less distracted by the matter of his veins feeling like they were to explode he sees what was hiding in the blue haze of night. A bird, perhaps? It was like no bird he's seen before.

Vibrantly green and filled greens and other splattering of colors that would be tacky if it wasn't so natural, a bird stares at him. Eye level as well, in the case he was still alright with such shock.

An echoing cry breaks from the bird's colorful plumage even without opening it's beak.

"I really hope this doesn't mean I've died." He mutters mostly to himself.

The bird- no- the nameless deity gives him a calm look. Indrith really did think in the past it was far more convenient to not need to worry about blessings and those sorts of troubles- but now that he's ransacking his brains for any details...

Bird gods weren't in the minority at all- and yet he could not still find any sense for which this one could be. Taking no further note of him, the bird flew to the altar in a flurry of wind by the-

By the broken plate and a bead of blood. Maintaining careful eye-contact, he witnesses the orb disappear down the green neck.

Rather than him shutting his eyes, when he exhales he sees Anri back to where she last was. She isn't holding anything.

On the third day of the moon cycle, is when he truly understood what he saw.