The Oracle of Valcyra (closed)

The wind was brutal and cold, a soft snow starting to form and fall upon the long stone building that was surrounded by mountainous terrain. As the wind ripped through the order's garden, leaves rattled from the trees in the orchard, telling of the storm that was about to break. It woke her from sleep, specks of water sprinkling over her cheeks as the leaves dripped upon her.

Lorelei's eyes opened, long dead and unseeing, turning towards the source of the disturbance. She had fallen asleep on the stone bench beneath her favorite gnarled tree what seemed like hours ago. The thick canopy of leaves had ceased to provide her protection from the coming storm and she would soon be forced to seek shelter. Her eyelids slowly closed as she let out a sigh, her pale blue eyes hidden from view. Dead eyes. She had been told by many that looking into her gaze was like looking into that of a corpse. The words stung, but it was a simple truth.

This had been her life for so long that she was beginning to forget how life was before she had been brought to the order. Blind since birth, she had always been a burden to her mother. Too expensive to care for, too time consuming to ensure that she was safe, too smart for her own good. How often had her mother's hand come crashing down upon her cheek when she had spoken out of turn or asked for something more to eat? The harsh pain had invaded her dreams many evenings, making her wake in a panic with sweat coating her brow. At least here, no one beat her.

Lorelei gathered her cloak around her body a little tighter as she stood, the wind whipping her long red hair around her face. Her slender, pale fingers reached out for the familiar stone wall beside her, her left hand tracing along a path that she had walked so many times before. She needed to get inside before the storm broke further. The priests would be upset if she grew ill. They had paid a pretty penny to obtain her. It had been a boon for her mother and a way to rid herself of a daughter that she had never wanted.

How her mother, a gutter wench, had come across the order, Lorelei would never understand. They had been searching for an oracle, one that could speak to the Goddess and reveal truths that no one else could. She had no idea what that had meant. She knew from hearing the priests talk that she was not the only oracle that they had obtained, but she was the only one at her location. They spoke freely around her, thinking that her blindness also made her mentally slow.

That was anything but true. She was as smart as they came, her mind gaining information and retaining it as easily as someone with sight. Never had she learned to read, but Lorelei prided herself on her ability to listen. Poetry was her favorite. She could listen to someone recite poetry for hours. However, no one seemed to have much time for her beyond what she could give them in return. If she were quiet and out of the way, she might be fortunate enough to catch one of the younger priests reading aloud from the many books that lined the library walls. So many stories that she would never be able to explore on her own.

Her fingers soon met the rough wooden door that led into the garden. Her hair was damp from the rain, clinging to her cheeks and shoulders as she pushed open the portal to the building. It smelled of burning candles and mildew, the dankness never seeming to go away even on the sunniest of days. She thrived on those sunny days, taking in the warm rays with a smile on her face. Most of the days seemed to be rainy here, cold and so different from home.

Her soft steps echoed down the stone hallway as her fingers traced over the smooth walls. They gently passed over cloth tapestries with images she would never see, over wooden frames with paintings she would never know, past windows with views she would never enjoy. As she entered the warmer great hall, the soft voices that had been discussing something stopped. They always stopped when she entered a room. It all added to her loneliness.

"The snow has started." She announced, hoping that someone would respond, but all she was greeted with was an uncomfortable silence and a slight clearing of someone's throat. "I shall be in my room."

As the silence stretched uncomfortably between them, she turned and started her journey to her small room. She would curl up on her bed, beneath the scratchy blankets, and try to sleep. It was the only way she knew to pass the time.

Gallus stood in his long brown robe that ill fitted him, like most clothes he ever wore. He tired to keep his eyes from darting away from the old priest, but it was so difficult in such a new chamber to him. There were others, no more than seven, in this room as well, all eating their stew, speaking in low tones without trying to obviously watching the priest and the new watcher. The grand hall that seemed so distant from his spacial villa of his youth, distant not only in the true leagues of travel but the measure of how far he is from seeing that privileged life ever again. It’s cold dark walls were blackened by years of burning candle wax. Moss seemed to grow in streaks where the roof let the in the leaks from the rain. The dead skies of the coming snows cast little of it’s light through the singular window. Even the wood of the tables and chairs seemed to have been dead for generations, held only together by faith. Like it seemed the whole of the Valcyra’s order seemed held together, and seemed equally long since dead.

Gallus stood in front of the head of the order whom seemed more interested in eating the slimey stew than addressing his newest watcher. The old priest eyed Gallus with a mix of disdain and suspicion. Behind him water dripped into a puddle in a small scoop of the stone floor honed from decades of the same dripping. The dull light from the two solitary candles only seemed to enhance the dirty old man’s face. The old priest, like Gallus wore the dark, heavy, rough cloth robes and the heavy chains of the order; yet the old man’s seniority was distinct by the cords wrapped over his shoulders. The place was cold. The old priest was cold. No words came from the man, drawing out the doubt that floated in his head. It took little time before Gallus shifted his head from the old man’s stare and focus on the ground.

“Do not turn away, boy,” the priest commanded darkly.

Gallus obeyed, returning his eyes to the bearded priest without raising his head in support.

The priest continued his gaze, allowed the space between them draw out long and dark. Finally he placed the spoon from his stew down and asked a question that stood between them more like a damnation then a query.

“Do you know why you are here?”

Gallus answered in a way that made it more of a question, and in a way that sounded as he knew it was the wrong answer. “I was chosen by Valcyra as a watcher?”

The priest’s interruption boomed in long drawn out words. “Your father forsook you. Cast you aside. You failed to be of strong will like your father. You are too weak to be a soldier, too weak to be a senator. The order took you in because your father paid us to take you in. We would not have burden ourselves in if his tribute was unworthy.”

“Yes sir,” Gallus mumbled Never had a priest used such hard words to Gallus since he joined the order. The words rung true, not from rumor but from fact. Gallus, ill for much of his childhood, never grew like his brothers did. They stand as tall and broad as a gladiator. Their voices boom with strength and honor. Only once the labor of the order’s duties did he start to gather any strength of body at all, only the dark brown tufts of hair cut above the collar matched his brothers own locks, yet he will never be as dominating in size like his brothers. It was this reason alone, his father, a prominent member of the senate, sent him away. His father thought the order would take pity on him. It did not.

The old man’s dark voice boomed louder. “We fed you, we offered you knowledge. You failed to learn. You failed to work your share. You don’t deserve to wear the chains of the Order of Valcyra.”

“Yes sir,” Gallus repeated.

“If not but for the graciousness of Valcyra herself, you would be cast away. At best, sent to a distant temple where the savages would tear you to shreds for meat.”

“Yes sir.”

“Instead, Valcyra blesses you. Choses you to be a watcher. Thus cursing us of this house to once again show you favor.”

It had been just days before that it happened. Brought to the Shrine of the Oracle in passage to meet with the masters of the order. While standing near where the oracle speaks, he was confused by his fellow priests interpretation of the words spoken through the shrine. In a moment of insubordination he question them on what they speak; and in that moment it became clear that Gallus was a Watcher, that of the order whom was blessed with the means to care for and decypher the voice of the oracle. Since, he was relegated to the cold damp rooms of this house, awaiting word of what this new duty means, and what new punishment awaits him.

Gallus swallowed hard, turned his head away, “I only do what Valcyra asks of me.”

Once again silence filled the room like the dark damp air that inhabited already. How many times the preists of the order punished him with leather or wood. How many times have the fists of his brother broken his flesh, broken his pride. How many times so many others hurt him so that he would learn his lesson. Yet this silence seemed as painful as the rest.

The old man sat for a period longer, reached to his face and dragged the brewing yellow running from his sickened nose across his white beard. Like the drippings of old stew on his chin, he let the mess linger, uncaring on how it would appear on him. “I will explain this to you slowly, though I am sure you will need to be told again. Valcyra expects the watchers to tend to the girl; and if worthy one will garner sole responsibility. We only have but the one, yet if it be Valcyra’s will this temple shall house tens doing her favor. Do not be fooled, Gallus. She is not Valcyra, nor is every word she speak holy. She is just a vessel. A voice that only comes forth when needed, and then returned to her shelter. You are not protecting the girl, you are protecting the means to speak with our goddess. The oracle will always continue. The voice cannot be lost. The girl … is already lost. Is that understood.”

“Yes sir.”

“And if there ever comes a time when …” The old priest’s words were cut off when a door opened at the end of the hall. In fact, all here stopped what they were doing to look to the door.

Gallus could not help to but to look himself. In that instant, he sucked in air.

Her.

The billowing red hair laid flatly from a mix of poor cleaning and the wetness that clung to it. Even from across the room the white milky eyes seemed to cut to the world it looked through. Her robes looked tattered and dirty, and did little it seem to keep her from the cold. She used her hand to guide herself, searching in her own blackness for the next step. She seemed helpless, encumbered by the life she was given … lost.

That is when she spoke: "The snow has started."

As much as it seemed she was in a fruitless search for something to guide her, she also dripped with a stubborn confidence. He was in awe of the girl as she walked through the hall, past all the old men who seemed to disdain her, and went on her way.

Once the door closed behind her, the murmur in the room returned.

Gallus went back to the priest, and asked “are we not to speak to her?”

The old man was scraping at the wood bowl to find the last of the stew had to offer. “You are not the sole burden to our order, Gallus. When you grow any wisdom, boy, you will learn that girl is not one any of us wish to speak to. If she was not the only vessel in this temple, she would be sent back to the streets with the other whores.”

With a smirk, the old priest’s demeanor changed. “Maybe,” he pondered verbally, “we shall put you to work immediate. What’s say we have you prepare that creature for a service.” He painfully rose his broken body from the old table and pulled a long iron key from his robes. “It is time you meet the vessel.”

Lorelei counted her steps as she walked down the hall of the stone building. Her room was the furthest away from the hall, dank and cold. No one ever stoked the fire in her hearth and no one had ever bothered to see if she were comfortable. Her comfort didn't matter. As long as she could talk to Valcyra, she did not matter as a person.

She honestly did not know what they wanted from her. Her mother had lied when she had approached the priests, telling them that she often had conversations with a force that could not be scene. She had suffered from unexpected seizures since she was little, but she had never remembered talking to a goddess in an unknown language. It made her nervous that one day they would find out that they had been lied to and cast her out into an unknown future.

Those thoughts were interrupted by the tinkling of a small bell as her fingers made contact with the string that was attached to her doorknob. She had saved up what little money she could to buy the little bell from a passing vendor. The man had set up his goods in the yard and sold to the priests that were interested. She had found the bell in his jewelry section and out of pity he had sold it to her at half the cost. It made finding her chamber that much easier.

Lorelei opened the door and stepped into the cold room with a long sigh. She knew the layout of the small room by heart. Her bed was four steps in front of her. The cold hearth was six steps to her right. She had a small window that overlooked a valley six steps to her left. A small nightstand was next to her bed. At the foot of the bed was a chest that held her one extra dress and that was it. All of the rest of her worldly possessions were stored on her nightstand. There wasn't much but at least she had a roof over her head and a meal in her belly.

Taking off her cloak, she placed it on the foot of the bed before she moved to crawl beneath the scratchy brown blanket that she had been given when she first arrived. Curling up beneath it, she closed her eyes and tried to lose herself to sleep. There was little else to do most of the time there at the compound. There was hardly anything to do.

Gallus stood at the door with the bell on it, and churned through his options. He could just walk away, tell the other priests that she was too tired, or some other lie that would make him discounted as the reason that he could not complete his duties. Yet what would that mean for her. He could actually try to prepare her for a reading, but would he really have to follow through with it.

He could just use this time to run away, now finally alone at a corner of the temple where none would know he slipped away. But then to what. Where would he live. How would he live. His life had not prepared him for anything but what it has become. Besides, doesn’t such a thought seem too drastic?

This left actually trying to follow thru with his duties.

On a sheet of paper squeezed in his hands, Gallus had the instructions he hastily wrote as the old man spoke. The duties that would need to be accomplished to ready the girl for a reading. Usually a reading or a service would be held to answer a question received by a dignitary, but the old man said the girl had become too ‘independent’ and ‘needed to be reminded why she is here’. So she was to be prepared to see if Valcyra will speak to her tonight.

Gallus stood by the door, tense, tight, and worried about what might happen. The demands were not horrible of him, nor was the girl anything but a blind child, yet the tone by which the priests described her made him worried none the less.

He was about to knock on the door, the proper thing to do, but then remembered the first instruction. “Enter the room unannounced. Otherwise, she will think it is a decision of hers to make whether to answer.”

He gripped the door handle, the bell on it ringing and making him pull his hand back with the noise like it was on fire. With a gulp, he gripped the handle again and pulled the door open.

She lay in the bed, wrapped up like she was cold, small, and nearly like a small creature.

He looked down at the note again and followed the next step.

Through a broken voice he stuttered, “G-girl … Arise. You-you are to be serviced.” He blinked and looked at his paper again. “I mean, you are to be prepared for service. Stand up and we shall … shall …” he looked at the paper. “Begin.”

The sound of her bell ringing woke her from a light slumber. Lorelei barely lifted her head off her pillow at the noise, pulling the blanket a little tighter around her shoulders. They were coming for her. After ignoring her for what seemed like days at a time, save for the meals that they would provide, they always came back for a reading.

An unfamiliar voice broke through the darkness as the door opened and someone stepped inside her room. She lifted her head up in surprise, glancing towards the source of the voice. She had never heard one of the priests speak to her in such halting tones. They were usually in control, speaking to her in clipped and impatient words that told her of their frustration with her.

"Who are you?" Lorelei asked in a soft voice, her brow furrowing as she finally sat up, her head tilting to one side as if she were curiously trying to decide what to make of this newcomer. "I've never heard your voice before."

She was a lonely soul while there at the desolate outpost. No one would speak to her willingly even though she had gone out of her way to try and make a friend. Being forced out of a room, punished with a missed meal, or simply ignored had become a way of life.

There had been one priest who had taken pity on her situation. Brother Torr was young, kind, willing to sit and talk with her on any number of things. He had taught her about plants, one of his specialties, explaining to her the differences in the leaves that she would touch while he sat beside her. One day, she could no longer find him. Lorelei hadn't heard his voice in what seemed like an eternity. She feared that he had been sent away because of her and she hoped that wherever he was, he was well.

"Am I to meet with someone?" She made no effort to move from her spot as she spoke. "Or do they expect a reading?"

Readings were what she dreaded the most. If she failed, the head priest would be upset with her. He would demand that she fast until she had a vision. Even worse, there had been one time that she had been given something to induce a vision. When she had come back to her senses the world had been hazy and her body had ached fiercely. She didn't want any of that to ever happen again.

He at first stayed quiet. The girl, closer now than when he first saw her in the hall, was different. She seemed more frail, more cold, like one of those cast aside in the streets a hundred times over. A creature forgotten to the world. Yet she wasn’t, she was here inside of this temple, she was supposed to be their center point; and there she was, cold and weak.

Or maybe it was those eyes. Just across the room from him now, he could only see the blankness in them. All the life in any other’s was missing. Even when she was defiant in the main hall, it seemed there was a fire there; but now it was more the coals are turned to ash.

When she asked him more questions he remembered his purpose here, remember what he was supposed to say.

“It is a reading,” he replied. “None have come for Valcyra today. So they want …” he stopped took a breath and corrected, “So we want to perform a reading.”

His mention of the reading, it made her seem to react, to become saddened. He only knew what his duties were for the preparation. Take her to the drapery where she will don the ritual robes. Prepare the wine with the added herbs to help her reach out to Valcyra. Deliver her to the reading alter. It seemed harmless, seemed simple. Yet she seemed to understand what that meant, and it caused her to sink even if it was only slightly.

Naturally, he wanted something to brighten her, to give her reason to not fear. So he chose to defy the priest in one command he gave. He gave her his name.

“I am Gallus,” he said softly. “Brother Gallus. I-I … I am new to this place. I am the new watcher.”

After a little breath he asked, “What is your name, they wouldn’t tell me.”

They wanted to speak to Valcyra. That made Lorelei's belly hurt in the worst way. If they wanted to speak to the goddess, they would not wait for her to have a vision. It would mean drugging herbs, losing her senses, and possibly losing herself.

The sound of the man's name startled her. Many of the others would go to great lengths to hide their names from her or to simply ignore her to the best of the abilities. She wasn't there to be spoken to. She was there to talk to Valcyra. There was no need to talk to the vessel at all beyond explaining the rules or short commands.

"Gallus." She said in a soft voice, committing it to memory as he gave her that tiny piece of information.

"I don't have a name here." Lorelei said as she pushed the blanket off her shoulders and slipped out of bed.

Carefully, she reached down to her bed, lifting the blanket in her hands and folding it in a particular way. Once it was folded, she placed it at the foot of her bed where she might easily find it again. Everything in the room had a place and nothing was ever out of place. That was the only way that she knew how to survive in a dark and lonely world.

"Before I came here, my name was Lorelei." She finally commented, turning her blind gaze towards where she thought that he was standing.

He watched her as she moved. Every movement deliberate, planned, orderly. Even if this place, this wet and dark place, she was purposeful. He had never seen one act as such, and it was utterly fascinating. The sharpness of his own mind let himself become curious of the way she did these duties as he stood back and watched. The fold of the blanket, the touch of her hand against the bed, each step had meaning - not like anything he had seen before. The girl was unique.

The girl had a name. Lorelei. He thought to remember this, even if it could be dangerous if the other priests knew he knew. Somehow the way she answered suggested it would be bad if he did know it, to give her anything other than her duties to Valcyra.

His feet shuffled along the stone floor, trying to make sure he left space for her, whether she needed it or not. It really meant he backed himself into a corner yet still gave her space to the door if he needed. Still, he could not pull his eyes from her, lost in the curiosity of this creature; her eyes broken but not her mind, and not her ways.

“Can you find your way to the drapery,” he finally asked. “Or am I to expect to guide you there.” He tried to sound forceful, yet he could not even find confidence in the way he heard his own voice. His hands balled around the rough cloth at the end of his sleeves.

The shuffle of feet across the hard stone floor told Lorelei an entire story. Gallus was nervous. He didn't know how to deal with her. It wasn't uncommon, she reminded herself, but she had hopes that perhaps this time would be different.

Her fingers brushed against the foot of the bed, wrapping around the wooden knob that was there as Gallus asked her if she could find her way to the drapery or if he needed to guide her. Her eyes cast down towards the ground, a hand absently brushing a lock of red hair that fell into her face.

"I can find it. However, they don't like me going alone." She said with a long sigh, her fingers leaving the end of the bed to find her way towards the door. "It inspires free thinking. They have no use for a vessel that can freely think for herself."

As she found her way to the door, she paused, her head dipped low for a moment and her brow furrowed in thought. Slowly she turned to look in the direction that she could hear Gallus breathing.

"I don't mind guidance. I am a dutiful student." Lorelei promised. "The rest of the priests here do not believe that I have anything more than rocks in my head, but I do have a brain that I like to use regularly."

It didn’t matter what the others called her, or what they thought of her; Gallus was enthralled by the girl. Equal parts of fear and strength. Equal parts defiance and defeat. Whether she knew it or not, much of who she was worn on her body like the ratty dress covering it. As she approached the door to guide herself, he moved with her until they were in the hall.

“I think I know what you mean,” he seemed to say before he understood. “That is, the eldest is already convinced that I will fail as a watcher. Though all I have done to this point was to come to these chambers.”

Gallus followed the girl as they walked, all the while looking over his shoulder or up ahead in the halls. While no direction was given, he was sure that if someone came across them he would be told that he is doing something wrong. All he could think was to prepare himself for that moment.

“This happens often,” he asked nervously. “The readings, with someone with a question, that is?”

Lorelei heard Gallus step into the hallway behind her. The bell on her door tinkled softly as the door was closed and they started on their way to the dressers. She would always dread going to the dressers. They never thought that she was clean enough and would scrub at her skin with cold water, using a scratchy sponge that left her feeling torn up at the end. They would claim her hair wasn't well taken care of and they would brush it roughly, pulling at the tangles until they ripped from her head. Then she would be dressed for duty. The robes were nice, soft and unlike what she were wearing now, but it was a small luxury for long moments of horror.

"He will never think that you do your duty correctly." Lorelei murmured as Gallus spoke of the eldest. "He is an unkind man who enjoys tormenting others."

She meant every word. The hatred that she felt for the man was strong and burning brightly in her chest. He was one of the worst human beings that she had ever had the misfortune of meeting in her life.

Her fingers trailed over the stone walls as they walked, her mind taking note of how many doorways passed beneath her fingertips. Soon they would come to a hallway that they would have to pass down and the dressers would be at the end of the row. She had found it many times before without the help of a watcher, but it was his duty. And he seemed kind.

"Questions? Perhaps they happen often." She said. "I'm never introduced to them and I barely remember afterwards." Lorelei answered his question with a slight shrug of her shoulders. "I've never had a vision on my own. It's always with the help of the herbs. They leave me feeling tired and steal away my senses."

He remained a few steps behind her, training his own fingers along the walls as she did. He listened and smiled at one thought.

“I must admit, it is a relief to hear your opinion of the old priest,” he mentioned. “I was worried I would be the only one to think as such, and that would make me more awful. And …” he stopped and sighed a little before grumbling, “... I don’t know why i told you that.”

He listened about the questions, listened about the herbs. He knew he had duties, knew there would be instructions to follow, but she still was far more experienced at this than he was. More so, as much as he dreaded this process, she seemed to dread it more - surely for good reasons, reasons he would find out soon enough.

The reached the drapery, and it opened to a room that smelled of mildew. Robes and clothing were hung along a hooks and hangers on one wall. Cabinets, left open, held bowls, cups, pitchers, and ancient clay jugs. A large basin sat with soaps and oils, clearly for the cleansing. A bucket sat under a spigot where spring water seemed to overflow it and send greasy water down into a floordrain. A stove sat to it’s side, for warming the water if it was needed. All that setting water was the source of much of that smell, but it surely would have been much worse during the heat of the summer. Maybe the oils and soaps will make the place smell clean but they were saved for her surely.

Not sure what to do first, he thought of that stove. “I will heat some water.”

"Perhaps, in time, we can be friends." Lorelei murmured as he admitted that he didn't like the old priest as much as she did. "However, never let them know that you talk to me beyond your duties. They would send you away. It's happened before."

Once they reached the drapery, she let him open the door before she stepped in. The room stank of mildew and dampness. It was one of her least favorite rooms in the entire building, but one that she spent much of her time in. It was barely kept clean and the room was often in disarray as stools and basins were left wherever they had last been used.

As Gallus announced that he was going to heat some water, Lorelei crashed into a bathing stool. The wood clattered across the stone floor as her fingers groped for the offending item. She barely caught it before it crashed onto its side, her brow furrowed in concern and concentration as she righted it and carefully took a seat on it.

"The metal pot is in one of the cupboards." She said, listening to his footsteps around the room. "By the stove, I think. And the powdered soap is in the same cupboard. The stuff in the other cupboard is rough on the skin. They never listen when I tell them that, but I've never liked using it." She informed him, helping him to find the things that he was searching for. "Same for the sponges. They are always too stiff for my liking. I'm sure that they are older than myself."

Gallus should have helped her with the stool, but once again he became enamored with how she dealt with the situation. In any other person, it would smack of clumsiness. The blind girl, though, was determined, stubborn. Unable to see the stool, unable to tell immediately how to right it, unable to be sure how stable it was; yet still she found it in the right place and took her perch frustrated she could not do better. The lack of sight, something that should be all that she needs to present to the world as an excuse was not something that would hold her back.

When she spoke, the trance he fell into was broken. His duties was to wash her, but he did not know they had options. Her guidance made him more aware; and if anything, he was determined to be different, to be understanding on what would be more comforting to her. The pot was heating, the powdered soap mixed in giving a bit of a bubbling at the top. The sponges, as she suspected, were old and filthy. They were decaying from likely years of drying and wetting. Standing on his toes he saw one in the back, a newer one, and grabbed it. It seemed fresh, unused, and while still stiff at least it seemed like it could do some good.

The warm bowl, the sponge, the small table to set it all on, even the oils that will follow the soap once he was finished were now at the ready and by the girl’s side.

“They make me feel foolish, I think,” he said trying to talk the nervousness from his lungs. “They say I am to wash you as if you were some useless child.” He soaked the sponge in the water, feeling the starchiness expand to soft curves. “‘She is not to touch the sponge’, they said to me. ‘It is the watcher who washes, not the vessel,’ they said. Like you can not do it yourself.”

He had moved around to her front with the wet sponge in his hand, and proceeded to follow the next step, something that didn’t really cross his mind when it was pronounced to him. He reached for the cord at the neckline of her ratty old dress, and it quickly opened up and slide along her shoulder. That is when he realized that there would be nothing underneath. That he would be bathing the girl when she was free of clothing.

The need to follow his duty led the way, and he raised the sponge up to her cheek, crossing his hand over in front of him, trying to hide her in some way from his view. To make it worse, he turned his head away to try to keep her dignity, to try to not feel like he is looking at what he knows he shouldn’t look at, what he never really looked upon before. Only when he realized that he was still washing her cheek he thought to look at what he is doing, to see the water dripping from the sponge … and to see where the water was dripping towards.

"I'm not supposed to have free thought." Lorelei answered softly. "They won't allow me to do anything, to be honest. I can't eat when I want. I can't talk to anyone. If they know that you're talking to me the way that you are they might send you away. It's happened before."

"Before I came here I did all kinds of things on my own." She said as she heard him gathering the items as she had directed him. "I explored entire cities without anyone's help. I can cook on my own too. It just takes a little bit longer than a seeing person."

She had no idea why she was telling him all of this. Most of the time the brothers would simply snarl at her to be quiet, beating her spirit down yet again. Gallus seemed different, even if he were trying to do things the way that they had told him.

His footsteps were loud on the wet floor of the room as he came to her. She tilted her head to the side slightly, trying to figure out just what he was doing. The gentle patter of droplets on the ground told her that he had a sponge in his hand. He was nervously squeezing it, perhaps. Letting the water drip onto the floor beneath them before it ran into the drain at the center.

The tie at her throat was soon pulled free, her garment slipping off her shoulders. Nudity didn't bother her in the least. It never had, simply because she couldn't see to be embarrassed. She knew her body intimately but it seemed that he were not comfortable with the situation. The sponge touched her cheek and never left, simply swiping at the soft skin as he stood stock still in front of her.

"There is more to me than my face." Lorelei said softly. "You can't be embarrassed by this. It will happen many times over the time that we are together."

Gallus was listening to Lorelei. A boy left to the sides of all his family and teachers could want of him, he spent so much of time observing he could never turn off that ability to listen & watch all while collecting information that was presented to him.

Right now, it was actually all he could do. Moving was a difficult task, acting was a difficult task.

Her reminder that he couldn’t be embarrassed by this was like the reminder that he could gaze upon the rest of her. As he began to wash down her arms, he did that quite promptly. His mind was seizing up at the sight of a naked girl in front of him. The way the dress fell to her hips revealed her torso in front of him. Her treatment was cruelly obvious, as she had not a bit of fat available under her skin. Her ribs showed and transitioned into lean muscle down her stomach. Her shoulders appeared weak, and her skin was pale. If that was all there was, Gallus would make a study on the the form such poor feeding did to her.

Gallus, though, spent most of his study on what was far more fascinating to him. It was not out of the question for one to be passing by a city fountain or a bath and see the female form exposed; but that was when he was in the cities as a boy, well before the interests of women found his more mature thoughts. Arguably, this was the first pair of naked breasts he had seen; and they were maybe the greatest things he had ever seen in his life. Perfectly round. Perfectly molded and curved. The pale white flesh accented with the strawberry tips that seemed perfectly accented with nipples growing erect in the cool air..

All of his initial observations seemed like forever, but in reality happened over only a couple slow strong breaths from her expanding rib cage.

“I, didn’t mean. I am not … Embarrassed. I guess.”

He lifted her arm, ran the sponge along it’s length as it narrowed into her chest. He tried to shift his focus to where his sponge moved, tried to speak, tried to do something so he could at least do his duty.

“Happen … many times.” Unlike his observation skills, his thoughts broke this words. “That is hard. That will be … must have been hard.”

His sponge circled around her firm stomach, wetting her skin without brushing the orbs above them.

“If it is cold, tell me. Many times it will happen.” He stopped a new subject to clarify forming. “The Goddess Valcyra is lovely they say. When we die we shall see her. And to cast out all thoughts of mortal women.”

Finally, it was like the whole of her front torso was washed; however, he successfully avoided touching those breasts he kept turning his eyes back to.

“Maybe if the vessel was someone else, and older woman. An uglier woman.” He tried to control his words better. Gallus, however, couldn’t deny the fact that being near someone so beautiful, even if she could not see it, would be undeniably hard for him to cast out such visions. “Maybe it will become easier. With you. Over those many times.”

With that, the sponge began the slow descent from her neckline along the ridge of her breast until it stroked against her nipple.

"I don't know if I believe in Valcyra." Lorelei said in the softest of tones, listening to the sound of the sponge as Gallus cleaned her arms. "How can a goddess that is supposed to be so good allow someone to be blind? Or to be treated the way that I am?"

How many nights had she gone to bed hungry because the head priest insisted that she was too headstrong for her own good? How many nights had she cried in her bed from the loneliness that threatened to take over her heart? So many times she had prayed to Valcyra to send her a friend or someone kind only to have it all taken away from her the first moment that it could be. She was terribly lonely and resigned to the fact that she would live and die in that mountainous hellhole.

"I'm not a bad person. My mother was a whore, but I am not. There are some that say I am a witch because I know things that no woman should, but how am I to survive if I do not learn about the world around me?"

The sponge traveled down her arm and towards her chest before he lifted it and scrubbed her belly. It was odd, she thought to herself. The other tenders would brush her down briskly, focusing on her breasts as much as they liked, before dousing her in cold water from the spring. It would have her shivering as they dried her with the rough towels before oiling her skin and draping her with the silken robes.

Gallus seemed to hesitated, as if he would do something that she didn't want or like. She had little say in the moment. If she argued, she would go without food. If she tried to run away, they had threatened her with beatings or worse. Only once had she been around for a beating. The head priest saw it fit for her to hear what happened to another brother who had tried to run away. The man's screams still haunted her dreams at night.

Lorelei's dead eyes turned towards Gallus as he finally ran the sponge down her chest, stating that perhaps things would be easier if she were an older woman. "It is alright to admire someone's body. We are made in Valcyra's image and there is nothing sinful about it."

“That is not what they taught. Our vows go, ‘Only she that awaits us in the afterword is worthy, all other women are nothing.’ Yes, she made us in her image, but … it isn’t the same.” Gallus only knew this portion well because it was what confused him during his lessons. They take no vow for celibacy, no vow to not take a woman, no vow to remain unmarried. Yet they are to vow that women are unworthy compared to their goddess. It seemed in that moment it connected why they older more hardened brothers of the order treated Lorelei the way they did.

With the sponge soothing over her breast, the idea that he would ever think she is not worthy was unbelievable. He slowly moved the material over her skin, awestruck by it’s firmness. The simple curves of its shape seemed to want to draw his eye to their center, towards the neatly pink areola and nipple. He caressed the flesh, taking his time to cover the whole of her breast with the damp sponge. Then when he couldn’t see himself continuing on the one breast, he moved to the next. The touch he used across her skin now was less about cleaning her, and more about feeling the flesh. Subconsciously, it was about the pleasure of the act. Gentle strokes leaning to the tip, gentle turns around the circumference, gentle movements up & down in time with her breaths.

Reluctantly he moved on. He shifted to her side, kneeling on the wet floor. He swiped the sponge along along her back, not spending the time on it like he did her front. In part to steady himself, and maybe reassure her, he placed a hand on her knee where the dress still draped over it.

“I want to admire someone’s body,” he spoke softer. His movement slowed as he reached her lower back, and he stroked the sponge along her shape to her side. “Don’t tell the others I said that. I just want to … there can’t be …” he tried to let his words come, but all he could do was fumble over his feelings. “It’s not fair if she is the only one worthy.”

Lorelei felt her nipple hardening under his sponge, a small shiver racing up her spine. Gallus was so much different front the others that had tended to her. He was kind, almost shy about the situation. There was no need to be embarrassed, but it seemed that he would be no matter how she assured him.

When he moved to the other breast, she shivered again, her brow furrowing at the feelings that he was blooming in her body. It had been a long time since anyone had touched her with care. Probably never, if she were honest with herself. Then he moved towards her back and the moment was broken. Why had it been so brief, she asked herself. Why was fate so cruel sometimes?

A warm hand on her knee shook her from her thoughts and she turned towards the sound of his voice. He wanted to admire someone's body, probably even her body. He was unsure of himself, fumbling with his words. It was charming in a way.

"And I want a friend." Lorelei said softly, her own wet fingers finding his on her knee. "One that they won't take away from me. Perhaps we can be what the other one wants and knees, Gallus."

"Someone that will read to me and talk to me like an adult. I'm not a child and I'm not slow in the head. They won't speak to me unless it is to talk to their Goddess or to punish. I hate it. If I thought I might be able to run away, I would have done it a long time ago."

Gallus first looked down to the hand that was on his. Then he looked up to those eyes, eyes that seemed dead to him before but now like foggy windows hiding something deeper. He could feel the heart inside of his chest start to press against his ribs in faster rhythm. As she spoke, she gave him reason to pity her, to feel the pain she must feel; but instead it awed him. That she remained so strong. For all that this world done to her.

Even as she sat here, half naked, his hand on her knee so close to that which made her a woman, he could only think of the simplest of things to make her happy and stare into those eyes.

“I have books,” he breathed. “I shall try to come to your room tonight.” He cracks a smile, thinking of something that allows him to continue. “There is a story I think you will like. About a goddess who is stronger than the males that treat her so poorly. I think you will take pleasure on what she does to them.”

Gallus has to lick his lips, feeling now how dry his mouth had become in his nervousness and closeness to the girl. The action makes him realize his hands have not moved since they reached her knee. With a deep breath, he prepared himself for what must happen now.

“I .. I will need to … you will have to remove your dress so I can … finish.” With a hard swallow he continued. “Stand and I can help with … it. You can sit or stand after, whatever … whatever would make you … at ease.”

"You do?" Lorelei murmured as he whispered that he had books.

The smile in his voice was evident as he promised to try and come to her room that evening, bringing a story with him that she might enjoy. A fairy tale, it seemed. One of a goddess that was treated poorly by men and sought her revenge. How many times had she dreamed about revenge? Doing to the men around her what they did to her. Drugging them, making them experience frightening and sometimes painful things. It made her smile softly as she felt his fingers curl against her thigh gently before he stammered out the rest of his task.

She nodded, standing from the stool and letting the rest of her tattered dress fall to the damp floor. She wasn't shy. In her life, shyness would only serve to complicate things. It might make her stubborn, incur a punishment, or something far worse.

"Gallus, just finish your task. It's alright." She murmured, sensing that he wasn't comfortable. "I understand what you need to do. If we're late, we might both be punished."

"Gallus, just finish your task.”

It may have been the last thing Gallus heard, as the ringing in his ears over took him. There she was, standing naked in front of him, and fully comfortable for him to see her in all her beauty. Even in the dull, dank light of the drapery, she was magnificent to him.

He ran a hand up her leg, and said “Up” getting her to lift her leg so he could pull the dress from her feet. A gentle stroke down her leg allowed it to find the floor. A more smoother caress lifted her other leg and an “Up” got her to raise the other, and then allowing his hand to move back down. Numbly, he continued the cleaning, the sponge spedning extra time on her smooth buttocks, but avoiding the front of her pelvis out of pure innocent fear. He was quicker with her legs, quick with her feet, and finished the wash without much delay. He saw none of his work, of course, because he spent the whole of the time near the end with eyes focused on the apex of her form. His only attention was set on the soft V that suggested why lie between.

With a long sigh he got up, leaving her standing naked in the middle of the room. He found the robes she would wear, guilded with reds and golds to match the colors of the temple. He kept his eyes turned away now, doing what he could to get his mind off of her body, and on his duties. He couldn’t deny what seeing the girl in such a state had on his own body, more than just the guilt of desire but the actual bodily reaction he felt. He had to change his mind now, to get it off of her, so that his duties can be executed without further embarrassment.

“They said to give you the Cumaera tea tonight. They said it induces your trance better than the others. Is … is that a bad one?”

"Cumaera tea. Yes." Lorelei answered as he asked if that was the bad one. "It makes me lose my senses. All of them....except for sight, of course. That has been gone for a very long time."

She was trying to make a joke at her own expense as she stood there in the center of the room naked. Holding out her hands, she took the first robe from him and felt the garment, familiarizing herself with it before she slipped it on her still damp skin.

"They don't trust any other kind of tea. The other herbs are not as harsh but they don't seem to work." She said softly with a slight shrug of her shoulders as she tied the robe together with the tie at her belly.

Her fingers worked quickly and sure, completing simple tasks as if she had been a sighted person. She glanced in the direction that she thought Gallus was standing, her blue eyes staring at him for a long moment.

"You don't have to be concerned about me. It will leave me shaking and ill for a while. Have something easy to eat ready and I'll be alright." She murmured, holding out her hand for the next robe.

The overrobe was softer, like smooth linens and golden in color. Gallus more handed this to Lorelei than prepared it to put it on her. Some of the urge to help her drained as the internal desire to stay close to her waned. Without really wanting to admit it to himself, the last thing he wanted he to do was to put on more clothes.

“I will make sure we have extra bread for when you are finished,” he stated to her comments on how the tea would make her ill. “Maybe if they have some milk too. That seems to always settle my stomach when I was ill.”

There was a large stone pot marked ‘Cumera Tea’ resting on the floor along a wall. With a push, the lid slid to the side and a pungent but floral smell entered the room. The liquid inside was topped by a number of wilted and black leaves, pieces of bark, mesh bags of herbs, and remnants of spice balls. With a dunk of a ladle, the orange liquid below became cloudy white and the sweet smell of fermented drink rose. While avoiding any of the bits and pieces, he scooped up enough of the tea to fill a cup.

Upon arriving at Lorelei’s side with the cup, he reached for her hand and lifted it so she could take the tea herself. Unlike what he expected, her hand felt soft. Briefly, he let his fingers intertwine with hers, like he used to with his mother in a way that felt like simple closeness.

“I’m sorry,” he stated. “For having to drink this, that is … and … for everything.” His voice trailed off on the end, but were words meant for more than just comfort.

The overrobe was much softer than anything else that she had to wear. It was warmer as well. Lorelei didn't mind wearing the robes of the oracle, simply because they would give her the warmth that she so desperately sought in the mountainous region. As she tied the sash around her waist, she listened to Gallus list the things that he would have for her when they were finished. Bread would do. She had no idea that they had milk in the kitchens. She had never been offered any if there was.

"Anything is fine." She murmured as she heard him move across the room to the pot that contained the pungent tea.

She hate the smell of it. She loathed the taste. It seemed that everything about the tea was simply bad. No one had ever mentioned what was inside of it, but it did the job nicely. It would induce a trance, force her to talk to Valcyra, and leave her out of it for ages. It was sick and sadistic. It seemed that there were a lot of things like that in her little prison.

When Gallus approached again, she paused and turned towards the sound of his footsteps, his hand taking her own and guiding it to the cup that he had brought. His skin was warm, slightly course, but not unwelcome. Perhaps he did know hardship in his life, she thought to herself as his fingers very slowly intertwined with her own. She had no idea what he was doing but when he spoke to ask for forgiveness, she knew that it was trying to comfort her.

"There's no need to apologize." Lorelei murmured as he pressed the cup into her hand. "You are not the one that is doing this to me."

She thought about the mug in her hand for a long moment, wishing that she could refuse it. Then they would both be punished. With her breath held, she brought the cup to her lips and downed the fermented brew in two gulps. She frowned, her eyes watering at the taste of sickeningly sweet herbs as she handed the cup back to him.

"If she doesn't come through, please say that she did." Lorelei murmured, her mouth coated with the awful liquid. "It's always worse if she doesn't."