RE: The List
10-01-2013, 09:27 PM
I circle c and fill in the blanks. Cram them in, really. They never seem to give enough space on these things. Or maybe I'm just long-winded, I don't know. After that particular question, nothing really jumps out at me as particularly weird, just more demography and history and stuff I privately imagine is just there to give the army of clerks something to look at. Hell if I know. Towards the end my mind starts to wander and I just check things off at what I think is a reasonable enough pace that the still-smiling bureaucrat watching me won't suspect I'm not taking her job seriously. b, d, a, b, b, c d c c b b a a a aaaaa
I slide the papers back towards her, assuming that'll be the end of it. I'm a little surprised when she starts reading the answers then and there; I'd figured she was just here to collect, not process anything. Or maybe she is and she's just nosy. She hums tunelessly and idly bites at her left pinky nail as she flips through the pages, eyes whizzing back and forth with the practiced speed of someone who's seen hundreds of lives condensed down to forms and bubbles and fill-in-the-blanks. Near the end, one of her eyebrows rises.
"Akash? Huh, looking at you, I'd have guessed you were a Blasphemer. I'm usually pretty good at this!"
"No."
I don't mention that I nearly joined the Ekklesia of Blaspheme back when I first decided to enter the priesthood. Everything else had seemed mundane and inconsequential, compared to a life of interpreting the divine, but it turns out even divinity becomes mundane when you see it up close enough. Close enough to see how human the whole endeavor is, anyway. Even the angels seem to have agendas, on those rare occasions I've been around for a Missive. I still can't really say why I settled on Akash. I'm not sure if the teachings just resonated with me more, or if I felt divine inspiration and a calling to the Shackled God. Or maybe it's just that I could already see there wasn't much future for a Blasphemer. Not under Vaeru. There was a time when people were worried he'd outlaw religions he didn't like, or try to instate some sort of theocracy. There were suspicions that a lot of the faiths would want to rise up against him. The collective priests and faithful of the Pantheon held their breath. And started to turn blue, eventually, and ended up panting and looking at each other with confusion. He seemed to have no interest in meddling with the way the world worshiped, or setting himself up as a god. Even the Blasphemers, whose teachings meant they were outspoken critics and opponents of the Dark Lord, found nobody burning their temples or quietly assassinating them. They simply began... falling out of favor, as the other faiths started to adapt to a new world with Vaeru in it.
Gareth had been a Blasphemer. They'd always told him he'd get himself killed.
I can feel my attention wandering. I blink a few times and try to focus on the woman in front of me. She's laughing, folding up the rest of the papers. Hasn't even looked at the last page or so.
"Alright, that's more like the Akashis I know."
I color a little at that, or at least imagine I do. It seems like I ought to feel embarrassed or annoyed, but I just... don't.
"I'm glad I have your approval, then."
She doesn't respond, except with the snap of her bag closing around my forms. That seems to be all she needs of me. I briefly wonder what would have happened if it had been Blaspheme in that blank, if she'd have reacted differently. I consider getting offended on behalf of my god to be so dismissed, but...
Oh, she's talking again.
"Now, I'd like to have you come back to the department with me for a follow-up interview. I understand you've lost your oldest brother, and this can be a trying time. I'd like to make sure you get everything you need, and there's a bit more we need from you, too."
Not really knowing why, I point to my prepared vestments hanging by the door. "I can't. I have a sermon to deliver."
It's true, by and large. I do have a sermon to deliver. This evening. In the same city she'd be taking me to for an interview. The two would in no way interfere with each other, but something deep inside me automatically rejects the notion of going to this interview.
Her eyebrow comes back up. "But you're just a novice."
"It's traditional to have one of the novices lead the services at least once a week." Any member of the flock that actually notices is considered for the priesthood themself.
She purses her lips, but doesn't object further. After a few moments, she fishes another slip out of her bag, grabs my lead, and scribbles something down, muttering "Religious... exemption."; I decide to push my luck.
"I need to prepare now, please. If I could have my room back?"
She nods, dropping a card on my table. "Remember, if you ever need anything..."
"Yes."
"We'll be in touch."
She leaves.
I slowly pull on my robes, watching out my window as she collects her guards and meanders back down the road. After a time, a carriage comes to collect them, which makes me wonder why they walked at all. Surely the carriage could have come all the way to the house.
As I pull on my boots, I realize the house is silent. Nobody in the kitchen, no voices in the den, nothing clinking in my father's toolhouse. Without warning, the quiet becomes oppressive. I can't just stay here, studying the Phuenixis and preparing for tonight, even though that had been my plan half an hour ago. An hour. However long. Without thinking, I sweep downstairs and out the front door. I'm halfway to the old oak up the road before whatever's burning inside me burns out and I realize I don't know where I'm going or what I'm doing. Or why.
Ahead, a couple hours' brisk hike or an hour's trot if I bother to get a kelpie, is Kellinsburgh. I'll have to get there eventually, if only so I can deliver my sermon this evening, but maybe I should head there early. Maybe even go that interview. Maybe it's important. Or maybe I should blow it off and wander the city for a bit. Find some shops, visit some people. Maybe indulge in some carnality, I just lost a brother, shouldn't I be drinking and whoring our of grief? Or something. It feels kind of forced and empty, but most things do. Who knows, if I do it right, it might not.
Behind me is the tomb-quiet form of my home, and well behind that is the dark shape of Becca's. Maybe I should turn back. Find my parents, find out what's going on. How they feel. Or go find Becca instead. Or just turn back even farther, march past the farms and fields until they turn to forest, get lost in the tall pines and my own thoughts and hope I can make it to Kellinsburgh in time. Or just not even bother. Gods, I don't know.
At my feet there's a little splash of yellow, some tiny squarish blossoms peeking out of the scrubbish grass. Whatever it is, it's blooming late, if thoroughly unimpressively. A part of me just wants to flop down right here and stare at it until whatever mental fog has me feeling so out-of-sorts and indecisive clears. It'd certainly involve a lot less walking than anything else.
I slide the papers back towards her, assuming that'll be the end of it. I'm a little surprised when she starts reading the answers then and there; I'd figured she was just here to collect, not process anything. Or maybe she is and she's just nosy. She hums tunelessly and idly bites at her left pinky nail as she flips through the pages, eyes whizzing back and forth with the practiced speed of someone who's seen hundreds of lives condensed down to forms and bubbles and fill-in-the-blanks. Near the end, one of her eyebrows rises.
"Akash? Huh, looking at you, I'd have guessed you were a Blasphemer. I'm usually pretty good at this!"
"No."
I don't mention that I nearly joined the Ekklesia of Blaspheme back when I first decided to enter the priesthood. Everything else had seemed mundane and inconsequential, compared to a life of interpreting the divine, but it turns out even divinity becomes mundane when you see it up close enough. Close enough to see how human the whole endeavor is, anyway. Even the angels seem to have agendas, on those rare occasions I've been around for a Missive. I still can't really say why I settled on Akash. I'm not sure if the teachings just resonated with me more, or if I felt divine inspiration and a calling to the Shackled God. Or maybe it's just that I could already see there wasn't much future for a Blasphemer. Not under Vaeru. There was a time when people were worried he'd outlaw religions he didn't like, or try to instate some sort of theocracy. There were suspicions that a lot of the faiths would want to rise up against him. The collective priests and faithful of the Pantheon held their breath. And started to turn blue, eventually, and ended up panting and looking at each other with confusion. He seemed to have no interest in meddling with the way the world worshiped, or setting himself up as a god. Even the Blasphemers, whose teachings meant they were outspoken critics and opponents of the Dark Lord, found nobody burning their temples or quietly assassinating them. They simply began... falling out of favor, as the other faiths started to adapt to a new world with Vaeru in it.
Gareth had been a Blasphemer. They'd always told him he'd get himself killed.
I can feel my attention wandering. I blink a few times and try to focus on the woman in front of me. She's laughing, folding up the rest of the papers. Hasn't even looked at the last page or so.
"Alright, that's more like the Akashis I know."
I color a little at that, or at least imagine I do. It seems like I ought to feel embarrassed or annoyed, but I just... don't.
"I'm glad I have your approval, then."
She doesn't respond, except with the snap of her bag closing around my forms. That seems to be all she needs of me. I briefly wonder what would have happened if it had been Blaspheme in that blank, if she'd have reacted differently. I consider getting offended on behalf of my god to be so dismissed, but...
Oh, she's talking again.
"Now, I'd like to have you come back to the department with me for a follow-up interview. I understand you've lost your oldest brother, and this can be a trying time. I'd like to make sure you get everything you need, and there's a bit more we need from you, too."
Not really knowing why, I point to my prepared vestments hanging by the door. "I can't. I have a sermon to deliver."
It's true, by and large. I do have a sermon to deliver. This evening. In the same city she'd be taking me to for an interview. The two would in no way interfere with each other, but something deep inside me automatically rejects the notion of going to this interview.
Her eyebrow comes back up. "But you're just a novice."
"It's traditional to have one of the novices lead the services at least once a week." Any member of the flock that actually notices is considered for the priesthood themself.
She purses her lips, but doesn't object further. After a few moments, she fishes another slip out of her bag, grabs my lead, and scribbles something down, muttering "Religious... exemption."; I decide to push my luck.
"I need to prepare now, please. If I could have my room back?"
She nods, dropping a card on my table. "Remember, if you ever need anything..."
"Yes."
"We'll be in touch."
She leaves.
I slowly pull on my robes, watching out my window as she collects her guards and meanders back down the road. After a time, a carriage comes to collect them, which makes me wonder why they walked at all. Surely the carriage could have come all the way to the house.
As I pull on my boots, I realize the house is silent. Nobody in the kitchen, no voices in the den, nothing clinking in my father's toolhouse. Without warning, the quiet becomes oppressive. I can't just stay here, studying the Phuenixis and preparing for tonight, even though that had been my plan half an hour ago. An hour. However long. Without thinking, I sweep downstairs and out the front door. I'm halfway to the old oak up the road before whatever's burning inside me burns out and I realize I don't know where I'm going or what I'm doing. Or why.
Ahead, a couple hours' brisk hike or an hour's trot if I bother to get a kelpie, is Kellinsburgh. I'll have to get there eventually, if only so I can deliver my sermon this evening, but maybe I should head there early. Maybe even go that interview. Maybe it's important. Or maybe I should blow it off and wander the city for a bit. Find some shops, visit some people. Maybe indulge in some carnality, I just lost a brother, shouldn't I be drinking and whoring our of grief? Or something. It feels kind of forced and empty, but most things do. Who knows, if I do it right, it might not.
Behind me is the tomb-quiet form of my home, and well behind that is the dark shape of Becca's. Maybe I should turn back. Find my parents, find out what's going on. How they feel. Or go find Becca instead. Or just turn back even farther, march past the farms and fields until they turn to forest, get lost in the tall pines and my own thoughts and hope I can make it to Kellinsburgh in time. Or just not even bother. Gods, I don't know.
At my feet there's a little splash of yellow, some tiny squarish blossoms peeking out of the scrubbish grass. Whatever it is, it's blooming late, if thoroughly unimpressively. A part of me just wants to flop down right here and stare at it until whatever mental fog has me feeling so out-of-sorts and indecisive clears. It'd certainly involve a lot less walking than anything else.