Lorene
**Alynthi, The Temple of the Gods.**

**Doctor Henryk had been to Alynthi and its capital plenty of times. Findara and Alynthi had been close allies, and soldiers he once served with would reach out to him in order to treat them and their families. The most distinct memory he had of Varilon was waking up in the barracks after having an arrow pierce his chest in the heat of battle.**

**He was no warrior— He was a healer. However, despite that, high praises were sung for him. The combat medic who'd perform miracles in the heat of battle. Although it sounded glamorous, and almost heroic, the price which he paid hadn't been worth it. The nightmares. The phantom pains which lingered along his body— It took him months to fully recover from the war he participated in.**

**And he was only 20 at the time. Now he was 23, and fighting a new sort of battle. One between a man, and a devil.**

**This was the first time he set foot in this temple— he was never a man of deep religious ties. No, he was a man of logic and pragmatism. He believed for a long time the Gods had been uncaring, that they left mortals to their own bidding, rarely intervening.**

**He was proven wrong recently, as he experienced divine intervention of the most malevolent kind. He bore witness to the God of Devils, the Great Horned One, Ulmos. Worse, he was _claimed_ by him. He was still confused what it meant, and today he sought answers.**

**There was more, the discovery of the Philosopher's Stone. A stone which had been divine illumination conceptualized, made tangible to mortals. It had been made once, by an Alchemist, and he had found proof in a journal that it was real— that at one point, it existed, and could be created.**

**However no formula was inscribed. Only to find enlightenment to be granted divine illumination.**

**Thus naturally, with the events that have all transpired... Now, more then ever, he looked for enlightenment. What was his purpose in life? Who was he truly?**

**The Doctor sat in one of the church pews, knees placed upon the cushioning as he stared up at the statue of the Mother Goddess. Today, Henryk was adorned in a black coat, with black slacks. Black leather gloves laced his hands, as gold was imbedded at the knuckles. The man's raven hair would be brushed back, as his steely blue eyes looked to the divine for answers.**

"...O' great pantheon... Answer my prayers..."

**His words hung, lingering.**

"Why have you accursed me?"
Patrice
*Nothing is more marvelous to anyone of faith, than a temple dedicated to the deities ruling the land below, in full stature of its worship. Alyera had never witnessed any worship at this level of grandiosity. Sure, the House of Elk had its festivities, but nothing so permanent as this structure she found herself in. She had already spent hours here, taking in the breathtaking atmosphere surrounding her.*

*Prayer, however, was all the more familiar to her. The wood-elven woman had dedicated her time to meditation as of late, attempting to find some direction since her leaving the House and Greenheart. What a change, and although she was a woman of faith, Aylera couldn't help but feel out of place in this temple. So, she did what she did best. She sat before the altar for her goddess and prayed. Pledging herself to the Mother yet again, asking for her wisdom, her guidance, anything. Sitting in contemplation for a long while, she hadn't noticed any others who shared this devotional space with her.*

*All too engrossed in her own feelings, the paladin stood, with one last flick of prayer, and turned to the pews. It felt as if everything echoed in this place, its high ceilings reverberating hums of divinity itself. With a breath, the woman found her own place among the pews. Her eyes couldn't help but distractedly flicker toward the man sitting nearby. She was unfamiliar with his attire, but in that case, she was unfamiliar with everything. Curiosity struck a chord within her, but now was not really the time for that- was it? His words were intriguing- she couldn't have helped but heard them.*
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*It felt now that every step she took to find her place disturbed the place's peace. Her earrings jingled softly as she found a place off to the left of the strange man. Whatever his business- it wasn't hers after all. With that, she sat, pulling her legs up to sit cross-legged. Murmuring a soft incantation in elvish, she began to unravel the largest of the intricate braids atop her head.*

*The elvish dialect of hers slipped through her lips easily, she needed no thought to recant her knowledge of tradition. The braids were devotional, a personal indication of one's faith. Afternoon light filtered in through the windows, illuminating the soft swaths of smoke from incense, glinting off of the altars and refracting in the ceiling. In the braiding, one opened their heart to the goddess and allowed themselves to slip into a meditative state. Keeping the hands busy assisted with this, especially with distraction. Still, the woman couldn't help but find her mind drifting, which was mildly frustrating. To combat this, she kept her hazel eyes fixed ahead at the altar, surveying its intricacies in time with the rhythmic motion of her fingers and words.*
Lorene
**He sat there in silence.**

**Silence, the sound of which responded to his prayer. His question to the divine would be met with the ambient sound of the mutterings of other temple goers. People who prayed, people are more devoted then he was, who paid tribute to the Gods. The reason he hadn't prayed was for this reason— no godly being would answer him. He was half the mind to accepting this was a futile effort, walking into a temple, expecting one of the Pantheon to address him. He sensed none would be willing to grant him sanctuary after having been claimed by the Dark God. Yet, the other half would tell him to be patient. Why should he be granted audience when he spent his whole life rejecting faith? He was a man who believed destiny should be seized by ones own two hands, not guided by a theological beings.**

**Then he pondered— what if, the point of prayer, was not to appease the Gods, nor ask of anything from them. Instead, what if prayer was simply a form of meditation? A way to find one's self?**

**So many questions, so many reasons yet he couldn't dictate what that answer was. He would accept his ignorance, and seek guidance— this was not a road easily travelled. If he wishes to find divine illumination, then perhaps it was best to accept help from another.**

**His ears perked to the elvish prayer which escaped the woman's lips to his left. He was keenly familiar with elven dialect, as his mentor was an elf himself, and plenty of his patients were of elven descent to some variety. In a way, she seemed one with the temple, she fit right in, a priestess of some sorts. Someone who he sensed could assist him in this hour.**

**So when she sat, The Half-Human's pale blue eyes would look to her, his head slightly turned as he observed her more closely. She carried this reserved beauty in the way she dressed. Formal, conserved, and of course traditional. Yet Henryk saw past that— he didn't observe her for one's natural beauty, no, his eyes had been scalpels attempting to dissect the woman in front of him. He was always analyzing, always thinking— plotting his next move— finding new and creative ways to push his ambitions. Not typically one for conversation, he was initially reluctant, but then would finally speak with his well-articulated voice, only speaking what he wishes to say.**

"Excuse me." **He would speak, attempting to address the woman, who he could only assume to be a priestess— or at least incredibly devoted to religion.** "...I hope I am not disturbing you. I simply have questions I wish to be answered." **The Doctor spoke thus. When and if she looked to the Half-Human, she would be able to observe his paler complexion. His cheeks gaunt, sunken in slightly, with these shadows underneath his eyes. He seemed slightly underweight, not a individual who was completely filled out. Though, the most notable thing were his eyes— the windows to the soul. His irises were a steely blue, pale, akin to the bitter cold winter. A blizzard captured within his gaze. They were dull— the atmosphere around him felt haunted, as though a darkness surrounded him. When one would gaze upon Henryk, he seemed to fit the setting of a morgue more than he did a temple— a place where the Gods are revered and celebrated.**

**So why was it this man, a gentleman who undoubtedly looked suspicious, be here?**

"...If I may ask, why is it you pray?" **A simple question. He wanted to see for what rhyme or reason another, more devote individual who turn to prayer. He knew different individuals prayed for different reasons, but, he hoped to hear a more enlightening reasoning.**

**Henryk could _only_ hope.**
Patrice
*Hazel eyes flicked up at the man's introduction. Caught amid the sunbeam, they refracted the light within them, a complex mixture of green surrounding an amber and brown ring around her pupils. They were narrowed- not just due to the light, but with suspicion as well. Aylera surveyed him carefully, lips pursed slightly as she listened, allowing her deep chestnut hair to gently fall to frame her face. The main braid undone had released several others to slide down gently, showing the sheer length of it all reaching down to her hips at the longest. Small adornments in them glittered in the light, reflecting off of the man's gaunt face. He looked ill- either in body or mind, but there was no way for her to know which.*

*Silent until he finished, she maintained eye contact throughout his question, only glancing toward the altar of the Mother as he finished. He asked quite the question, but somehow it didn't feel surprising. This stranger seemed nothing near godly- judging by his expression. Although cold, something told Aylera that he was nothing to be intimidated by, at least not here. Something plagued him, that much was clear. His question did, however, invigorate a soft chuckle out of her. Resting her hands in her lap, she responded in a smooth tone, intrigue taking over the air of mystery.*

"My my, that is quite the question, sir. I do believe I would take much of the day if you wished me to explain it all."

*Taking a breath, readying her words, Aylera turned to face him fully. A conversation such as this requires the respect of devotion.*
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"To answer this mountain of a question simply, I will say this: It is through devotion that I have come to a very large decision. I do not believe I would have the strength to persist without it."

*Pausing before continuing, her eyes fell on the statue again, taking in the Mother's gaze. As she spoke again, her eyes returned to the winter hiding behind the man's own irises.*

"I do believe she listens, and it heals my soul of its wounds. I hear her in nature and feel her presence among its many creatures. I mean no disrespect sir, but I feel as if you have your own wounds that have yet to begin to heal."

*Shifting in her seat, the wood-elven woman gently moved a bundle of small braids behind her shoulder, their adornment of leather wraps and rings of silver dangling with small crystals softly clicking as they moved. Aylera looked him up and down, analyzing him further. A smile lightly touched her lips as her eyes probed at his figure before her.*

"A question for you, now. What begs forth your inquiry? If you are looking for a sage of true wisdom, I am afraid you're speaking to the wrong individual, but I will happily engage with you over my faith. It is not often one asks 'why' over a subject such as this. I find it a rare opportunity for conversation, no?"
Lorene
**Henryk listened, and listened well he did. It wasn't an answer he wasn't looking to hear— especially in light of recent events. His perception has been changed on how deities operated changed, ever since one addressed him personally. However her perception of him wasn't far from the truth— he was someone with wounds that needed to be healed, but, he didn't think they could, nor would.**

**If a God does listen, and does heal, does that mean a God can harm too? Are the other deities simply bearing witness to Henryk's struggles, are the deaf to his plight, or do they not care? Does the only deity who cares to listen happen to be the most reviled one of them all?**

"Something like that." **Henryk confessed, before looking away from her, and to the statue of the Mother Goddess. He would speak freely, as he sensed he would not be judged in this moment.** "I'm at a point of introspection. I'm questioning the very reality of my life up until this point." **Henryk would say. The visuals of the grand statue slowly becoming blurred to his vision, as his eyes had became more and more out of focus. The scenery mixing and melding in his eyes as he spoke.**

"I've never been a man of faith. For the longest time, I felt as though the deities had been uncaring Gods. Why should a God care for the fleeting life of a mortal? Our life lasts but a second to them— a grain of sand in an hourglass. I believed this for a long time now. I have seen bodies in troves, oceans of blood, witnessed husbands, wives, and children weep at the passing of a loved one. I also have witnessed miracles— the birth of life. We come..." **He'd then blow air from his mouth.** "...And we go, like a candlelight." 

**A pause, as his eyes would focus again, his head slightly turning back to the woman.** "Recently, that has changed. My perception of the world has changed, and I am no longer certain of myself." **He would draw breath through his nostrils, before releasing a heavy sigh.** "I do not know if what I witnessed was the divine, or the demons of my mind manifesting at a crucial point of my life. Whether it is one or the other, I seek the same thing regardless. To centre myself once again." 

**He would straighten his back out, hands gripping the top of his thighs, gloved fingers curling and digging into them.** "Yes. Lets engage in a dialogue." **He would respond to her sentiment in kind.** "I am Doctor Henryk. A pleasure to make your acquaintance."

**He would bow his head in slight curtsey, before raising it again.** "And you?" **He asked for her name, as it was polite to do so.**
Patrice
*The man's mention of introspection almost made Aylera chuckle at how much she felt similarly. She'd just uprooted her entire life and decided to wander far beyond the only place she was meant to serve. The Mother had given her the idea- how curious he too turns to understand religion after a massive change in fate.*

*Patiently observing the man, Aylera focused her attention on his expression. As he spoke, the contortions of his face made sense. She was no expert in the subject, but she was taught some time ago to follow the motions of the face to better understand the motives of each phrase. Her mentor- her old friend was right. Henrick's eyes gave way to his pain. It was a familiar sight, she'd seen it in her friend before, and a pang of empathy rang through her.*

*Perhaps it was her association of his behavior with Varis-* ***That*** *Varis. Waves of feelings hit her and subsided just as quickly. Perhaps it was divine intervention that she had met Doctor Henryk- maybe there was something she could do to help- if only to try to understand his plight. As he spoke, she listened carefully and found herself all the more correct. She couldn't help but feel for him. Her eyes softened, and she smiled gently as she reciprocated his bow.*

"It is a pleasure indeed. I am Aylera Mialar of the- ah- well, formerly of The House of Elk."

*She paused with a slight snicker before continuing. Oh, how similar strangers could be. Lifting her hands, she gestured as she spoke.*

"The world is wide, Doctor Henryk. I may not know what you have been through, but I assure you that you are not alone in what you feel. I speak for myself and an old friend of mine."

*Looking up, Aylera's lips twitched with the familiar pang of longing. Longing for a guide, or just some semblance of a path. The arches of the temple were filled with sunbeams, illuminating the artistry of architecture and design above. Her eyes lingered there as she spoke as if entranced by it.*
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"I too question why I have fallen into a pathless route. Many things contributed, but my final sendoff from the House was, well, lackluster in joy. I know very little else. The forest was where I was meant to serve, yet the Mother calls me out beyond its borders. I know nothing else, not what to do, nor where to go. It would be pitifully lonely without my faith. My friend knows of your struggle with worship, and I know more than anyone that he is quite the man underneath his existential struggle."

*Mentioning Varis wasn't a lighthearted thing to do. She'd barely even let herself think of him up to this point. He had let her down dreadfully, yet she loved him as a brother much the same. Aylera wondered if Doctor Henryk had someone who felt that way about him. She returned her gaze to him before glancing back to the altar.*

"From the sound of it, the two of you are quite similar in the way you think of these things. I must slightly disagree with how you phrase it though- I do not believe there is anything less divine that the supposed 'demons' in your mind. Why, I would like to argue that it is those that set you on a journey to find yourself, look at where you are. I do not believe people are called to the divine without purpose, regardless of their spirituality. One mustn't be a monk to find benefit and beauty in religion."