the road less traveled
Standing at the base of Veneror Peak, Willoughby felt an surge of energy swirling about. She knew this to be a place of holiness, of reverence and of religion. The people of Novus were oft religious, remarking upon gods she did not know anything about. She was daresay a bit of an atheist, but even she could not deny the power here. It felt safe and terrible all at once. Like a soft embrace was felt but stern words could be said. Like the kindness of a mother, but the firmness of a father...
The bard gulped, feeling suddenly self conscious and intimidated. Were they watching now? Should she try to climb the peak? Should she move on? Why would she do that? She was, again, not religious. She felt no pressure to pay tribute to the gods in Novus. Not knowing their names, Willoughby was at a loss on who to pray to. She glanced around, finding the approach of one equine toward the mountain's base. Perhaps she should ask them?
Slowly, she shuffled her body to face the stranger. Her head lowered politely, but not a bow of reverence. "Hello" she says to them softly "are you here to visit the gods too?" She left it at that, wondering if they were moving on or remaining here. If they remained, she would ask to go with them. She could learn so much from the devout. New songs, folklore... Anything of value. The religious folk had their own dances. It was wonderful to watch, less so to participate.
So yes, she felt intimidated around the devout. Not knowing what to say, how to feel... She did not mind the ones who prayed to their gods in peace. It was the ones that took their beliefs and twisted them, making them into zealous behavior. Burning down everyone who didn't agree. Destroying things that offended their gods. But did the gods cry out? No. They did not. Because it was not the gods that faulted mankind, but man itself.
Willoughby may be young. She may be naïve. But she knew. This is how the world worked. She chose to look away unless it bothered her or her people. Perhaps that was unkind of her to do, but she knew no other way. Not right now, anyway. She was untouched by conflict. Whether Novus would break her was unknown. She hoped not. She hoped to forever be a person people could go to for help. For them to be cheered by her dances and songs.
And she hoped the gods looked down and felt joy too. She would sing their words if given a voice. She'd dance to their merit, entertaining the masses as was their custom. Gods were always busy people. She didn't blame them for not showing up when the mortals needed them. Not everything could be solved through force. Not everything needed divine interruption. So she did her best, for her beloved people and for herself.
That is all she could hope to do.
The other did not respond. Instead, they moved on. Willoughby watched them go, understanding that their thoughts were their own. Their prayers were their own. She could intrude on them, an outsider as she was. Without a word to the stranger, she would move to the mountain's peak alone. There, she would offer her own prayer. Safety. Hope. Sprinkling in some added words about wishing for love and peace... She would soon depart, wondering if any gods here actually listened to her.
@ worship / 505 words / speaks
