Prayer - Raukan/Harlowe/Ema

Hidden from the toiling of digging or sharpening of weapons, and away from the talk and march of countless paws, was a grove dedicated for silent prayer. Reoseans of all kinds had brought offerings of harvest, riches, or things of sentimental value to find voice for their prayers. The battle between those praying to Oris and Empyria wasn’t a hostile competition by no means, but Haedians had lived under Oris’ influence, while the topside knew Empyria more fondly. In either case, prayers were many and loud both ways. 

Ema held her faith in another entity entirely, but Empyria was a familiar figure in her temple so this routine was very familiar for her. Meanwhile, Raukan eyed Oris’ likeness made in gold. It’s imposing stature more to his own liking, as opposed to the gentleness of the Empyrean Goddess. He hadn’t said a word on the way here, let alone now that they had arrived. He was just quietly observing. Harlowe was uncertain in both regards, having never prayed nor given thought to much faith in his life. To go into the thick of it with such heavy pressure on everyone to find aid from people and gods alike, he felt overwhelmed to join in the effort.

“Uh, so… What should I do?” He approached the Empyrean sitting in front of Empyria’s shrine. He glanced back to Raukan, but the puller paid no mind to the two of them. He was a bit nervous about their grumpy companion, but he didn’t know enough about the gods to hold judgement. “I didn’t bring anything, I hope that’s okay. It’s not a requirement is it?”

Ema gestured for Harlowe to seat himself beside her, before crossing her hands before her on the ground. “Prayer is what you decide it to be, young one. A whisper, a thought, a song, a rhyme. Whatever comes from your heart, carrying your sorrows, glee, requests, or simply wishing company. Prayers are personal to you.” 

“Huh,” Harlowe hummed, eyeing the many offerings, then his paws on the ground. “Well, I can certainly think of my request… wish? Plea? I’m not quite sure what to say in these thoughts.” Uncertain and admittedly nervous, he drew a breath in and slowly blew it out. He’d seen what Oris had done for the Haedians and heard some biased opinions, while the Elder seemed all the better for Empyria’s blessing. How direct the influence of gods could be. 

Behind Ema and Harlowe, Raukan sat quietly in front of Oris’ shrine. His thoughts weren’t so much pleas or wishes, no cries for help from the mighty bull. With his eyes closed, he sat there, head bowed slightly in silence. Harlowe’s interrupting voice faded into the silence once he finally figured out his own prayers, and Ema’s subtle jingle of her headdress ceased. Raukan sighed to himself, quieting his mind to calm waters. A considerable effort with his temper, but he was tired, and too much so for his mind to race any longer. His wants, the purpose of this task, all of it sunk into the water one by one. 

“Does a prayer need to be long?” 

Raukan’s ear twitched with Harlowe’s voice sending a small jolt through his chest, his mind snapped back to the present. Eyes peeling open, he looked at the shrine again, debating whether to snap at the Vayron or hold his tongue. His temper bubbled, tempting to take over ina quick spur of the moment, but it was swiftly interrupted before it boiled over.

“Hush, child,” a stranger chimed in, voice a gentle whisper. Harlowe and Raukan turned their heads to the newcomer, while Ema never interrupted her own prayers. Pyrri came into the quiet chamber, steps light to not disturb the Empyrean and others who might be in prayer. “You shouldn’t speak when others are in the midst of meditation.” She whispered as she joined Harlowe’s side. “A prayer is as long as you need it to be. Your prayer may be long and hold little room for breath, or it can be as few as three words, which hold so much meaning.” 

Raukan closed his eyes again, tuning out the Haedian and Harlowe’s whisperings. He felt soothed all of a sudden, but he suspects it’s Ema’s doing, as opposed to Pyrri, who was educating the other. He hadn’t spoken much to this particular clan head, but knew about her well enough to recognize. The Tranquils would likely be watching over much of the praying, helping people find their calm and connection, or something of the like. 

“May Empyria answer the pleas of all those desperate for her aid once more,” Ema finally spoke, voice soft like a lullaby. Through ehr veil you couldn’t see her expression, but she held her head high, assured in everyone’s united effort bearing fruit someday.