[Temple of Aslan] Not Just another brightening at the temple (Ridire)

[Malik]

7th of Cryxatum, Spring, Era XVII PF.

It had been a few months since the vysstichi had originally come to the Temple, but he was fitting in with the other disciples. His jobs were the lowest of the low, but it was still a place where he was accepted. Not all of the others had been too keen to see a vysstichi working amongst them, but his stay had been uneventful, which was enough for him. Not only that, he felt a sense of belonging to the temple, and the people he worked with. He might not have spoken any of them at length but he definitely felt like he was a part of things. His new life was on track, and he was ready to proceed with whatever tasks were required of him.

One of the duties he performed was to greet visitors to the temple and help them with their needs. It was this role he was performing on this particular day. He wore the normal robes of the church disciples. He often questioned whether it was the best option to have a vysstichi greet the patrons, but he was the last one likely to bring up anything regarding his race. He didn’t want to be treated differently because of it, and if they didn’t mind, then he didn’t either. The robes set him apart from most others, and he took the role of helping people properly and often did what was asked of, as long as his pride allowed him. He wasn’t an ideal person for the job, but he did fairly well.

This particular brightening had been quite slow with only a few people who were willing to talk with him. Since he wasn’t the only person in this duty they often chose the other over him. It wasn’t anything different from the norm. The public preferred to talk with another human rather than a vysstichi. It was in a way infuriating, but he couldn’t say he’d do much different in the situation. A vysstichi working in the temple had to be some sort of trickery they were well known for, and even if it wasn’t case just to be on the safe side, they’d avoid him. It would all change once he made a name for himself. The people wouldn’t see him as just a vysstichi, they’d see him as Malik Baathyrr. That day was still quite some time away.

[Ridire]

	Malik had received a tentative acceptance among his fellow disciples of Aslan, so much was true. Perhaps there was trust, perhaps there was wariness, but there was always the Tenets: those Codes of the Blade and the Soul. While Malik did not truly understand them yet, they held his fellow Aslanites in check. Perhaps so much could not be said of those who came to the Temple for help, but most were grateful for the shelter that the temple provided, and few were willing to bite the hand that fed, so to speak, even if it was the ebon skinned hand of a vysstichi. That particular brightening had indeed been slow, and Malik found himself enduring a stint of several candlemarks where nary a soul had approached and spoken to him. Women and children -- those downcast of society in need of the temple's charity -- as well as numerous other members of his own order had come and gone, yet their business or interest always seemed to lay elsewhere, or perhaps simply with other people. After a handful of such candlemarks, Malik found himself approached by another person at last. It was a fellow disciple of Aslan whom Malik knew only by name: Ethran. An elf, of what type the vysstichi did not know, Ethran had been a stranger to him at best. In fact, if Malik chose to think back on it, the elf had never even so much as spoken to him before. Perhaps Malik might find it odd that Ethran then chose to approach him with such a purposeful stride, but such deliberations would soon be cut short as Ethran came upon him. "Hello burnt elf--er, I mean, Malik." As Ethran said Malik's name, a visible scowl of disgust crossed the elf's face, something similar to the look a man would have after smelling or tasting something extremely foul. "Bishop Hlnvarg asked me to bring you to him."

[Malik]

He was ready for anyone who needed his assistance, but had run out of things to pass the time quite a while ago. He sort of waited around for something to be done while he looked at the happenings in the temple. It was all quite normal and there was nothing for him to worry about. He noticed another disciple approach, an elf by the name of Ethran, and straightened his posture snapping back into focus. Malik knew nothing else about the disciple, but he hardly got the chance to speak to the others. This one he was sure he had never said a word to, and by the way he was walking Malik could only guess he was there for business.

There had been little issue about his presence in the temple, or at least until Ethran spoke. It didn’t even take a sentence for Malik to know how the elf felt about him. The clear choice of words, and expressions was more than enough. Regardless of the obvious hatred he had approached Malik on instruction of the Bishop. Still it didn’t change the fact the foolish disciple had insulted him. If he could Malik would cut Ethran into pieces for such remarks, but sadly they were in the temple and it simply wasn’t appropriate. Perhaps fate would be kind enough to offer him another chance with a better setting, and situation. For now he was forced to play the role of a disciple.

“Okay, lead the way brother.” Malik answered without the slightest hint of hatred. If there was one thing Malik prided over everything else it was having control. If he couldn’t keep his anger or desires in check he’d be nothing but a common murderer. He was more elegant than that, but this other elf obviously was not. Whatever the reason he had come to speak to Malik he should have been able to at least hold back his spite. Such a thought made the elf look foolish in his eyes. There was the off chance he was acting that way to in some way test the vysstichi, but Malik doubted this was the case.

Malik waited for the elf to begin showing him the way to bishop. He didn’t think for a second it was a good idea to have his back turned to the elf. If he was unable to control his words, he might not be able to control his actions. Plus if Malik felt the need he could just kill the elf with ease. Such thoughts were likely over thinking things, but he wouldn’t be surprised if it was all a lie. With such open hostility he wasn’t going to risk anything.

[Ridire]

	Fate. Sometimes it was kind to a man, and sometimes it was a shackle. As Malik walked the corridors of the Temple of Aslan with Ethran, he certainly felt fate had shackled him with the racist elf. The encounter generated many thoughts and considerations about the young vysstichi. Would he truly have killed Ethran if given the chance? Was he really just forced to play the role of a disciple? They were interesting questions, if Malik pondered them at all. It wasn't until they were in a corridor far from the ear shot of any visitors or other disciples that Ethran asked the question: "So, why are you here?" Ethran then stopped, turning to face Malik, his eyes staring hard at the vysstichi. "And don't insult me by saying it's because you want to serve Aslan. I want to know the real reason you're here." Ethran's voice was calm, but there was an undertone of bitterness as he stared daggers at Malik. "I know your kind. You don't do good. You don't know Honor. You simply plan, plot, and kill. You worship Aeternians and spread death and chaos. That's all a burnt elf has ever done, and that's all a burnt elf will ever do." With that said, Ethran spit upon the ground at Malik's feet. "You can lie to the Bishop, but I refuse to accept it! So tell me, what's your agenda?"

	OOC Note As of 06/06/10, thread has been untagged from my queue. Malik, if you come back, please give me a shout and we'll continue this or -- if necessary -- you can find a new mod for it. - Ridire