One might assume that caring for the altars left little to one's day, but their job was more than simply making sure everything was in working order. It was also their job to tend to those who came to visit. Their job to look upon offerings left for the gods and make sure that they were well cared for in the time since those who had left them stayed away. Their job to not only monitor, but to make sure that the surrounding area was cared for, to make sure that things were in better condition than they had been when they began their work. To improve, not only to watch over.
They had gone walking through the many twisting passageways that lined the mountain, exploring some of the inner depths of open caverns with naught but a flame borrowed from one of the altars to light the way. They had happened upon some naturally pigmented stone, and had tucked some chunks into their satchel to bring back with them.
A small bowl of water later, the bowl simply borrowed from an altar to be washed and returned later, and they had rudimentary paint. It was a yellow-orange color, and while they knew it would be a pain to clean later, they had found a secondary use for their polish rag as a brush of some sort, twisting it up telekinetically and dipping the end in.
Now, they were no artist, but simple shapes were easy enough for anyone, and so the stallion was in the midst of gently inscribing a blazing sun on a fairly flat surface of one of the walls, an image for the day god, when hoofsteps approached. Later they would see if they could not find some paler pigments within the caverns to allow them to paint a moon for Calligo. They supposed they could also make the dawn and the dusk with the yellow, but that would be a task they would have to think more on to decide how to go about it. The sun and the moon were simple constructs that they could create with their limited art skills.
But to the more relevant matter at hoof, they turned to look over their shoulder as the steps grew louder, adding the finishing touch to the stroke they were making and then wringing the cloth over the bowl so that no paint might drip. They set the cloth down on the lip of the bowl and left the half-finished sun to dry where it was, the stallion gently tucking the paint and cloth in a corner where it might not get knocked over as a figure came into view.
A soft snort emanated from the stallion at the figure's approach, a gentle smile curving their lips as they nodded in greeting, their voice quiet amidst the holy silence of the altars as they took a few soft steps forward, enough to signal their willingness to come further over if their presence was wished, but not enough to crowd or make the other feel as though their presence was being forced upon her.
"What brings you here today, my child?"
@Lyra
OOC: You post in Veneror and it's not private, you get a Beni, that's just how it works man
