04-16-2010, 06:22 AM
ooc: wtf, a bear XD. And yes, it's a church, duh ;D. STEEPLE BELL TOWER WHAT ELSE. And: BOOZEBOOZEBOOZEDON'T FORGET DAMMIT.
word count: 482
ic: The collie-mix swallowed again, her mouth going amazingly dry for some reason. What was going on? It was as though all the types of anxiety and excitement she'd ever felt in her life were all balled up into one mutated creature in the pit of her stomach. Fear, she knew; anxiety, she knew; excitement, she knew. This, she did not know, and it was driving her crazy.
She caught her senses long enough to listen to Rurik's words; long enough to actually decipher their meanings, long enough to pay attention past the quite pleasant sound of his voice. She smiled to herself; of course she would pick one that had been used for worship. The idea of worshiping in a building, though? "Huh. Why'd they worship inside, I wonder? There en't nothin' t' worship inna a buildin'. Danu 'ears ye best when yer outside, under th' sky." His hand touched her back, gently, and her chocolate eyes were immediately on his face, a smile upon her lips, muscles twitching slightly. She could feel the heat of his hand, energy rippling up and down her spine from the place his palm rested. He pushed gently, motioning her inside the building, and she went willingly.
The ashen male gave her - what was to her - a winning smile as he opened the door of the building, and she obligingly stepped over the threshold. It was dark and dusty inside, as to be expected: the building was probably quite quaint in its prime, but now trash lay here and there, furniture upturned and in disarray. She stepped into a foyer, and on past into a larger room. Benches lined an aisle leading up to an altar, the weak winter sunlight filtering in through the windows on both sides of the building, reflecting off of swirling motes. She walked up the aisle to the altar; it was barely one, really, just a raised bit of a stage area with an upturned podium in the center, and two more benches along the back wall. Cerridwyn stepped onto the stage and took a seat on one of these benches, looking out and surveying the room; this was the main worship area, obviously, and she could feel wisps of long-dead energy, could imagine these humans, these Fomorians of her religion, gathered together to worship. It was an odd image, in truth: the Fomorians hadn't really worshiped anything. Maybe they had been different in this land across the sea.
Standing across the room from her, just at the aisle's start, was Rurik, and she took a moment just to look at him, lips quirked in a quizzical tilt. The way the sunlight reflected off of his fur, his icy blue eyes watching her from across the room - she could look at him all day. She patted the seat next to her in invitation. "Come sit wi' me, Rurik."
word count: 482
ic: The collie-mix swallowed again, her mouth going amazingly dry for some reason. What was going on? It was as though all the types of anxiety and excitement she'd ever felt in her life were all balled up into one mutated creature in the pit of her stomach. Fear, she knew; anxiety, she knew; excitement, she knew. This, she did not know, and it was driving her crazy.
She caught her senses long enough to listen to Rurik's words; long enough to actually decipher their meanings, long enough to pay attention past the quite pleasant sound of his voice. She smiled to herself; of course she would pick one that had been used for worship. The idea of worshiping in a building, though? "Huh. Why'd they worship inside, I wonder? There en't nothin' t' worship inna a buildin'. Danu 'ears ye best when yer outside, under th' sky." His hand touched her back, gently, and her chocolate eyes were immediately on his face, a smile upon her lips, muscles twitching slightly. She could feel the heat of his hand, energy rippling up and down her spine from the place his palm rested. He pushed gently, motioning her inside the building, and she went willingly.
The ashen male gave her - what was to her - a winning smile as he opened the door of the building, and she obligingly stepped over the threshold. It was dark and dusty inside, as to be expected: the building was probably quite quaint in its prime, but now trash lay here and there, furniture upturned and in disarray. She stepped into a foyer, and on past into a larger room. Benches lined an aisle leading up to an altar, the weak winter sunlight filtering in through the windows on both sides of the building, reflecting off of swirling motes. She walked up the aisle to the altar; it was barely one, really, just a raised bit of a stage area with an upturned podium in the center, and two more benches along the back wall. Cerridwyn stepped onto the stage and took a seat on one of these benches, looking out and surveying the room; this was the main worship area, obviously, and she could feel wisps of long-dead energy, could imagine these humans, these Fomorians of her religion, gathered together to worship. It was an odd image, in truth: the Fomorians hadn't really worshiped anything. Maybe they had been different in this land across the sea.
Standing across the room from her, just at the aisle's start, was Rurik, and she took a moment just to look at him, lips quirked in a quizzical tilt. The way the sunlight reflected off of his fur, his icy blue eyes watching her from across the room - she could look at him all day. She patted the seat next to her in invitation. "Come sit wi' me, Rurik."