and nothing more
—
They are waiting for him, down and down, past the temple that is all darkness save for the spiraling circle of ceiling that shows the moon that watches from high overhead, at the apex of its journey. This will be done out of even mother moon’s sight.
They have been fasting, in preparation for this night. They have been praying. And some of them wonder, as they look up on their brother’s bare body marked with pious scars (and more sinful marks, too), if Tenebrae has been doing the same. Some of them wonder what else has marked his body - a woman’s teeth, her scent, her skin?
Oh, Brother Tenebrae. The love of the goddess should have been enough.
Candles flicker and drip black wax, quiet hisses in the darkness that punctuate their breathing. Tenebrae is the only one trembling, but all their shadows follow suit - they seethe, they roil, they move more than they should, even in the light of ninety-nine candles.
The vial is the brightest thing in the room, brighter than the little flames, brighter than the moon-gleam of the Order’s eyes. The Chief Magistrate’s face is lit by it, all hollows. His gaze does not leave the bowed neck of the stallion before him. And when Tenebrae looks up, he, too, lifts his chin, and all the Order begins to stamp their feet, and a hollow, dreadful drumming fills the chamber. The candle flames flutter, the tallow hisses, and the temple echoes with a sound like an army advancing, like a beast beating a stallion-skin drum.
And then the Chief Magistrate drops his head, and the sound stops at once, and silence crawls over the chamber before he speaks.
“This water was blessed by a priestess of Solis. It will take your sight, brother Tenebrae, so that all the world will be shadows to you, and you might contemplate Caligo’s mercy. But also contemplate her power, Tenebrae, and the devotion and loyalty She asks of you - for you are not only one of Her children, but one of Her Disciples. And you have sinned against Her.”
Only now does he look from the sinful disciple, to beckon forth the man holding the vial. Its glow casts over Tenebrae, the white moons of his eyes, the scars at his neck.
“Because you confessed, and repented, you well dwell in Her shadow forevermore. But sin not again, for Her punishment is death.”
Carefully, almost tenderly, the Chief Magistrate twists the cork from the vial’s neck. All the Brothers watch as he tips it, his magic firmly beneath the sinner’s chin to keep his head turned up, first into one eye, and then the other. It is the bright, burning gold of the sun, and every disciple in the chamber holds their breath as they watch the drops fall.
@Tenebrae
They have been fasting, in preparation for this night. They have been praying. And some of them wonder, as they look up on their brother’s bare body marked with pious scars (and more sinful marks, too), if Tenebrae has been doing the same. Some of them wonder what else has marked his body - a woman’s teeth, her scent, her skin?
Oh, Brother Tenebrae. The love of the goddess should have been enough.
Candles flicker and drip black wax, quiet hisses in the darkness that punctuate their breathing. Tenebrae is the only one trembling, but all their shadows follow suit - they seethe, they roil, they move more than they should, even in the light of ninety-nine candles.
The vial is the brightest thing in the room, brighter than the little flames, brighter than the moon-gleam of the Order’s eyes. The Chief Magistrate’s face is lit by it, all hollows. His gaze does not leave the bowed neck of the stallion before him. And when Tenebrae looks up, he, too, lifts his chin, and all the Order begins to stamp their feet, and a hollow, dreadful drumming fills the chamber. The candle flames flutter, the tallow hisses, and the temple echoes with a sound like an army advancing, like a beast beating a stallion-skin drum.
And then the Chief Magistrate drops his head, and the sound stops at once, and silence crawls over the chamber before he speaks.
“This water was blessed by a priestess of Solis. It will take your sight, brother Tenebrae, so that all the world will be shadows to you, and you might contemplate Caligo’s mercy. But also contemplate her power, Tenebrae, and the devotion and loyalty She asks of you - for you are not only one of Her children, but one of Her Disciples. And you have sinned against Her.”
Only now does he look from the sinful disciple, to beckon forth the man holding the vial. Its glow casts over Tenebrae, the white moons of his eyes, the scars at his neck.
“Because you confessed, and repented, you well dwell in Her shadow forevermore. But sin not again, for Her punishment is death.”
Carefully, almost tenderly, the Chief Magistrate twists the cork from the vial’s neck. All the Brothers watch as he tips it, his magic firmly beneath the sinner’s chin to keep his head turned up, first into one eye, and then the other. It is the bright, burning gold of the sun, and every disciple in the chamber holds their breath as they watch the drops fall.
@Tenebrae
