A Loss of Faith
Dec 13, 2013 0:41:11 GMT -5
Post by Kender Bard on Dec 13, 2013 0:41:11 GMT -5
Sain knelt, legs numbed, by the cot in the temple of Love. There were many people here in what had been converted into a kind of tending-room for those fallen under the sleeping sickness and not having elsewhere to go (or, like in Sain's case, desperate to find solace within the church but unwilling to leave their loved ones at home.)
Heath slept peacefully, his breathing even and steady, and even the faintest hint of a smile on his face. It still didn't bring anything resembling peace to Sain's heart, however.
In one of Sain's hands he clutched a holy symbol, the sacred sun of Anarlina. He no longer prayed aloud like he did when Heath had first been brought here on his order. During those days, he had wept and prayed and even screamed at one point, but Sain was too tired to continue on in that vein. He was exhausted. He ate only when food was brought and given to him and he slept when his body finally would not allow him to remain awake a moment longer. He rarely left his son's side.
None of the priests had any answers for him; not the priests of Love or any of the Forces. They were all stumped, confused. The mystics were no better. Nobody had anything to say as to why or how or what could be done for Sain or any one else in similar straits.
Haven't I been faithful to you? Sain thought to Love and to all the Forces in general. Haven't I always been a good man, upheld the tenants of the church, and honored each of the Forces? You already took Rebecca from me. Now Heath? Why him? He clenched the holy symbol in his hand tighter, the points biting into his flesh, the pain reminding him to not throw a visible fit. He's just a fucking child. If you have some sort of grudge against me, then take me! What kind of Forces are you?
Despite his righteous anger, Sain was so very tired. His head drooped down to his chest and his eyes began to close as he struggled to maintain his vigil.
Heath slept peacefully, his breathing even and steady, and even the faintest hint of a smile on his face. It still didn't bring anything resembling peace to Sain's heart, however.
In one of Sain's hands he clutched a holy symbol, the sacred sun of Anarlina. He no longer prayed aloud like he did when Heath had first been brought here on his order. During those days, he had wept and prayed and even screamed at one point, but Sain was too tired to continue on in that vein. He was exhausted. He ate only when food was brought and given to him and he slept when his body finally would not allow him to remain awake a moment longer. He rarely left his son's side.
None of the priests had any answers for him; not the priests of Love or any of the Forces. They were all stumped, confused. The mystics were no better. Nobody had anything to say as to why or how or what could be done for Sain or any one else in similar straits.
Haven't I been faithful to you? Sain thought to Love and to all the Forces in general. Haven't I always been a good man, upheld the tenants of the church, and honored each of the Forces? You already took Rebecca from me. Now Heath? Why him? He clenched the holy symbol in his hand tighter, the points biting into his flesh, the pain reminding him to not throw a visible fit. He's just a fucking child. If you have some sort of grudge against me, then take me! What kind of Forces are you?
Despite his righteous anger, Sain was so very tired. His head drooped down to his chest and his eyes began to close as he struggled to maintain his vigil.