New Beginnings and Old Behaviors

There are moments in my life that I wish I hadn't gone through in order to get to where I am. There are things that I’ve done, that I’m not proud of. Then again… Some of those things are things that most people wouldn't think twice about.

I’m not sorry for the people I’ve killed.

I know that’s a bit of a powerful statement, but when you’re an emissary of the gods, its part of the job.

Izri took a moment and smiled, looking down at her journal. It wasn't much but it was a start. She had begun writing at the direction of a few of the priestess’ at the temple. She’d woken here and been brought to the oracle at the temple. The woman that had been appointed to the temple was the only one to know how her exaltation, as it were, had occurred.

~*~

“You require a new name, child.”  The older woman spoke in a tone that didn't leave much room for negotiation. Tired, perhaps a bit wise, but still as compassionate as an individual could muster. Izri nodded and looked around her. Everything was white and gold with silver accents.

“Where am I, if you don’t mind…”

“Not at all, child. You are in the Temple of Iomedae. She has saved you, it appears.” The oracle stood, walking to Izri. She took her hands and traced the symbols on her hands. Izri pulled her hands back and shook her head.

“I don’t remember much about it honestly. I was facing death. Again. And then I was speaking in some… strange language… and now… I’m here.”

“Celestial by the accounts from the Andorian priests.”

“Oh gods… They’re going to be after me…”

“No. The kings guards will be.” A slight smirk emerged on the oracle’s face as she watched Izri.

“I’m glad you've maintained my sense of normal by allowing for accurate sarcasm in the conversation.” Izri rolled her eyes at the statement. She paused looking back at the oracle. “I didn't kill her.”

“I know.”

Izri paused in the walk about the room in front of a statue of Iomedae. The goddess looked cruel. It wasn't her features, perhaps just the stone she had been carved from. Izri smirked at that thought and began to think of the miracle it was that she had been saved, even if it had doomed her in the Kingdom of her birth. Andor would never welcome her home. She starred quietly at the statue, wondering about the ‘why’ of it all.

“Your thoughts cloud your vision, child. You've yet to come to a name.” As the oracle spoke, Izri thought she saw the lips of the statue move into a slight knowing smile. Izri smirked and shook her head.

“No… I have one. I don’t think I have a choice in the matter either…” She turned towards the other oracle and held her hands open, palms facing out. “My name is Mirari.”

“Miracle? Very appropriate child…” The oracle smiled and looked past Mirari to the statue.

~*~

 I have yet to set out on any journeys in the name of my Goddess, however… soon. The priestesses and priests are almost convinced that my ‘ maniacal’ past is behind me. Weird how when you represent a goddess of justice and all things white and right in the world, they frown on stumbling back into the temple right before devotionals drunk and in the arms of … someone not temple approved.

Mirari smirked and put the quill down. She bound the book quietly and tucked the quill into her up-do  She was growing tired of the temple life. Her bones itched to get out and back into the world. Or maybe that was just the clothes.

She stepped outside, the white and gold skirt flowing in the breeze. In the long side slit of the skirt, a knife sat on the oracles thigh, steel glinting in the sun. One of her religious instructors stood, waiting.

“You’re late.”

“No. I’m simply working on a different schedule than you are.”

“Given that it’s my schedule that I follow and set yours by, I’d continue with the prior statement.”

“Rigidity and I don’t get along, unless…” Mirari smirked and glanced downward to the priests groin.

“Don’t be lewd.” The priest flushed and shook his head, opening the scroll.

“Aww but it’s so much fun to watch you squirm.”  Mirari stuck her tongue out and looked around at the gardens. It was beautiful here. Mundane and beautiful. She imagined a lot of people having religious experiences here.

“Why do you enjoy making people uncomfortable?” The sword knight was frustrated with her antics.

“Because how will you know your limits if no one pushes them? You've chosen religion as your life. It’s a safe, comfortable existence. Nothing has ever been learned from safety. In order to grow, you must be uncomfortable and even hurt once in a while. Religion is supposed to be a journey. And so is life. Take it too seriously and it’ll kill you before you have any fun.” Mirari lounged on the bench, watching the priests face grow sterner. “Besides, I can’t tell if you’re more pissed off with yourself or me at this point. It’s pretty funny.” 

“You’re contemptible. An awful example of all that Iomedae holds dear. Why she chose you is beyond me. I’ve killed people for lesser offenses.”

“And I thought you didn't like me!” Mirari smirked and the sword knight rolled his eyes, beginning to read from the devotional. Her head bowed. The readings did give her a sense of peace and they reminded her that her efforts against the governments she wandered through were not in vain. There was a higher purpose to be served. Besides… a corrupt government, or god should be fearful of it’s followers and people.