Ithiel is by me!

The dark-furred coyote clutched the books protectively in his hands as he strode toward the mansion. The trader promised the bible was complete and correct -- Ithiel had spent some time comparing his copy to this new one, and found it appropriate and acceptable. There were no missing or damaged pages, and the wording was only just slightly different in one place to the next. Better, the leather of this new copy was in better condition than his own. Darker in color than Ithiel's bible, its smooth surface was unblemished and lacking in any cracks or other time-damage. It was fit for the D'Neville library, certainly.

Stacked along with this biblical contribution, Ithiel also held a book which proclaimed itself to be a cookbook. It was the only other book the trader had of any value whatsoever -- Ithiel was entirely disinterested in novels and other entertainment reading. Facts and practicality interested him alone. Sliding the books into a spare space in the shelving, the dust-colored hybrid stepped back, his crimson-eyed gaze roving over the shelves. There were more empty ones than filled, of course -- the coyotes had no expanse of written word, but this was a good start, all the same.

His eyes lingered on the pamphlet from the Boreas wolves. He recognized its type, and he scowled faintly. Myrika would have been better off off burning those, he thought. They served no purpose but to enflame coyote blood.

Ithiel is by me!

There were creaks and groans within the mansion, evidence of someone's wakeful state and presence. The dusky-furred hybrid hybrid cocked an ear to listen, and found he could not determine who it was moving about. Some he could identify by noise of footfall alone -- Myrika was one such, and his grandmother another. The latter was identifiable only because of her step's uniqueness: dragging ever so slightly, a slow and shuffling sort of walk indicative of the woman's age.

The noises grew louder, and before long, Ithiel found Ángel amongst the quiet shelves of the library. The man greeted Ithiel in a strange tongue, to which the hybrid bobbed his head, assuming it was some kind of greeting. Yes, he agreed. No good for the books, no good for the wood, and no good for coyotes. The summer's swelter was well and truly upon them, though Ithiel was not one to complain about it overmuch.

The dust-furred hybrid nodded to the volume in the darker coyote's hand, red eyes flickering over the title. He could not read it. What's that? he inquired, mildly interested.

Ithiel is by me!

Ithiel nodded in response to the dark coyote's statement, though he was not entirely sure what it meant. Perhaps Ángel simply meant to reinforce the notion that Myrika had first attempted to lodge in his brain. He decided that was the case, and a faint smile came to his lips. Yes, he agreed. The real world is rarely as simple as the books would lead us to believe.

The same could be said even of the Book, the one he valued so. Ithiel thought he understood now that the right thing to do wasn't always completely right; sometimes it might be necessary to break his word in order to keep his greater honor. It might make him a pariah and outcast, to be sure, but the dust-hued hybrid thought he could handle being ostracized.

The dusky coyote again smiled as his dark companion spoke, though this time a more eager smile. And bury the ashes in the earth, he said. You follow the faith, as well? Holy water, God -- Ithiel recognized these terms well and he was surprised to realize another in his own clan believed the same as he did.

Ithiel is by me!

The dust-furred hybrid could commiserate with his dark clanmate. If the world was as it was in books, he might never have to face a choice such as honor versus loyalty. Even now it seemed a choice he could not make. Ithiel could not understand the repercussions of living in a world like the books -- he could see only the good, and not the bad. Myrika would see more -- she would understand the implications of such a thing, to be sure, and she would dismantle that idea as easily as she'd dismantled his ideas of morality.

Hm, Ithiel mused, studying the man. I didn't know there were others in Inferni, he said, pleasantly. We live amongst heretics, sadly, the dark-furred hybrid added, shrugging both shoulders. It was not in his business to pry about others' faith, but he was curious and it had been some time since he'd discussed such things with others. If you don't mind the question -- what is your favorite part of the book? Ithiel thought it a relatively good indicator of character to ask such a question.

Ithiel is by me!

The dusky-furred hybrid listened with pricked ears as the shadow-furred coyote listed names. He was familiar with most, but it surprised him to hear Enkiel's name on this list. One brow quirked and Ithiel contemplated this -- he'd never discussed religion or spirituality with the healer. Had he missed it? There were no signs of the faith that the jackal bore openly, but some were more private than even Ithiel. Though he was not one to speak of his beliefs without prompt, he wore symbols of the faith all the same -- his earrings and necklace proclaimed him for what he was. Then again, there were always those who appropriated symbols without knowing what they stood for.

Gabriel and Ezekiel, of course, the dusty hybrid said. Both got their faith from my homeland, if I am understanding their history correctly. He wondered if Ángel knew the relation Ithiel bore to both Ezekiel and Gabriel, and decided it was better if Ángel -- and others of Inferni -- did not know or forgot his connection to their previous Aquilas. It was better to be known as Myrika's cousin as of right now, rather than son and half-brother to old leaders -- one of which had abandoned the clan entirely.

And then Eve bit the apple. His voice was a musing rather than a proclaimation, but he nodded slowly. Yes, the beginning -- before we knew death and disease.

Ithiel is by me!

Ángel spoke of humanity, and Ithiel found himself agreeing. Surely, there were believers and faithful among the millions of dead. They had not all been sinners, but they had all needed to pay up for their follies and complications of the world. On the other hand, the dusky-hued hybrid found he could not agree with the dark coyote about the past. There was nothing regretted or shameful in Ithiel's past -- he'd been a good son, a better trainee, and a world-class soldier in the ranks of Scintilla before his second birthday. Nothing needed changing, in his view -- but Ithiel decided it was best not to share that.

It is their place to serve and follow. Eve proved the woe a woman can bring on the world when she steps outside of her place. The dusky hybrid shook his head, reaching up to scratch gently beeswax-stiffened hair to relieve an itch. Scintilla had a church. Magnificent, all of them -- from the smallest chapel to the most grand churches, they are all places of faith and worship. He'd seen derelict churches, but even they seemed to hold some power, still. Inferni ought to have a church, he mused, twitching his shoulders in a shrug. They had no buildings to spare for such an adventure, and Myrika would call it folly to waste their time on such when they might build stables and useful structures instead.

Ithiel is by me!

While Ithiel might have preferred a specific denomination, he could be convinced of a space for open worship. Some beliefs were better than an outright rejection of faith altogether, wasn't it? Perhaps they might eventually convert to righteousness. He thought over their words and considered Ángel. While he'd been imagining something grand, a separate-standing building, the mansion had many empty rooms. Who would care if one was re-purposed as an area of worship?

I think we might be able to pull it off, if we're only using a room rather than making a new building, he said at last, nodding slowly. He plucked at a loose thread on his chosen seat, twirling it between his fingers as he spoke. No one would have cause for complaint, especially if we welcomed... all beliefs, the male said, albeit hesitantly. Ithiel knew it was blasphemy, but the truly faithful were few within Inferni. A space that served all would be more welcomed by the coyotes, he thought.

Ithiel is by me!

The mansion was not in the best shape, but there were still plenty of rooms to be used. Ithiel might even try to placate Myrika by attempting some repairs elsewhere in the building -- but he was not an accomplished craftsman of any kind. His hands and arms were most useful for only pursuits of manual labor. Still, that might be the thing to get this project of theirs accepted with the least fuss. He peered toward Angel and nodded. He, too, seemed hesitant about the allowing of other faiths, but Ithiel saw no other way. They must allow any denomination access, or they would never be allowed to do anything. And if they did it in secret, Myrika would be angry -- and rightfully so. Ithiel could not imagine doing such a thing surreptitiously, without the endorsement of his Aquila.

We'll make plans, then, he said. I'll talk to Myrika. Can you write? Ithiel could not, but if Angel also could not, he would speak to his cousin and request her assistance on at least this small part. They'd need a plan of sorts -- various things needed to be done. They'd perhaps need to take a scavenging trip to Halifax, even. A faint smile appeared on Ithiel's face, evidence of his excitement.