SKILL seer (1/5)

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people believed in many gods back home too. she chuckled. even amongst their ranks, there were those that did not believe in a God at all, but found comfort in prayer anyways. the world was wide enough for there to be many gods, she thought. she is just loyal to only one. that was why she never understood nor cared to understand the arguments and debates some of her siblings would run in circles over. who is right or wrong would be decided upon death, and if a god is so cruel to banish those who did not believe in them to eternal suffering then perhaps that god did not deserve to be worshipped in the first place.

that was simply not her God. regardless if she's correct in which God she believes in, clearly He is kind enough to reunite her with her adam. her adam, who had not yet torn his eyes off of her! everytime she glanced over, a warmth swelled across her face. she wouldn't have stopped staring at him too were there not so many trees! as they walked, she bumped her hip against rhadamanthus, shepherding him through the treeline just as much as he had her.

all this to distract her from answering his question. it was gentle, and warm, but sad. she can only muster a nod, smile quivering but never wavering and brows crinkled. but they have strong hearts. said more to comfort herself. when he turns to talk about himself, she is more than relieved. many pray before death, if they are given the chance. she thought of her late grandmother. my grandmother had abandoned my mother, but she came to us and stayed over for a couple of weeks. i think she was ill — i was much too young — but i remember her whispering prayers one night. she was gone by morning. a thick solemn haunted the air now. i think both your father and my grandmother always believed, if they spent their last moments to pray. and eve attempts to waft it away. i know you will be heard. gods cannot always answer, but i believe they always hear.

Such a pious turn in conversations unexpected, but no less pleasant. He listened intently as they strolled; had even slowed his pace. Perhaps afraid that if he moved too fast, he would miss a glimpse into her past that he felt inexplicably desperate to know.

She spoke fondly of gods and her grandma, had offered words of wisdom and kindness where Rhadamanthus hadn't thought possible. With a slow smile, he turned to meet her gaze once more. Aye, you are a smart woman, Eve. I believe you must be right...though I fear that often people forget their beliefs until they're faced with Death. He rivaled, if only calmly.

Her wisdom has him wondering, though, and perhaps wishing that he would've been more curious in his past life for gods and worship. That instead of storming countrysides and castles in his prime, maybe he should have sat in the pews and listened to the words of men forever wiser than himself.

And it's a funny thought that comes to him after; if he had been a more pious man, would he had known of her then? Of the plans crafted by whatever great force beyond for them to have met?

Could he have prayed for her all those years ago—for a woman that's meant to be at his side and feed him words of God?

A beat had passed since his last words, his expression having fell pensive. It's her soft words of "Gods cannot always answer, but I believe they always hear," that rouses him again.

Then I shall believe, too. And perhaps a thank you is in order for your arrival. He chuckled. It wasn't often he prayed for more than the well-wishes of his people.

eve only hummed, at first at the first half of his comment. 'i'm sure they do. but somewhere, somewhere they must believe if they call out to Him. it was easy to forget if they were afforded no time for prayer. only believe if you truly wish to, dear. hahah, i hope i did not convert you unwillingly! she quickens her step, head craned to try and meet his gaze. fluttering excitement turned into leaping, jumping joy — her skin twitched to jump and if it weren't uncouth the morning woman absolutely would've.
but that was just it. rhadamanthus was a man of war, a man trodden by grief. eve was lucky to not have been a daughter born for battle. instead, she was reared carefully and lovingly, to be a follower. to know little of evil than a daughter who must face it head on through tooth and claw. but evil had found her anyways. quick as it came, her smile becomes tainted.

oh rhad. she chuckled softly and forgetting formalities. if i were a smart woman, i would not be here. sadness still lingered in her voice. the longer she stays, the longer she speaks and thinks, the more she wished that she had left her family on better terms. yes — she was more than grateful to have been found by this dark angel but she only wished it did not come at the cost of her mourning family.

Her laughter was a gentle thing, and it went as quick as it came. He found himself wishing to hear it again, and perhaps wistfully found himself thinking that if it was tangible and if he could cradle it within the palms of his battered hands, he'd cherish it like the gift it was.

That is what she is, he wondered. A gift he'd never asked for, but had received at the hands of a power greater than he could fathom. And then, he thought himself a fool. When had he felt this way for a woman, or for anyone? It must have been millennia ago, back when he walked on two legs instead of four and instead of carrying his diplomatic ways, he brandished a sword of mithril.

What an oddity this all was. A woman born from the snow that had a man as wise as he musing as a love-sick poet might.

He is drawn from the cavern of his addled mind when she spoke again. Ah, don't fret. I've lived a long life without the aid of God. Perhaps it's my time to accept his gift. He grinned.

And then, that sadness plagued her once more. A shroud over the light she wielded like a ribbon. Rhadamanthus found himself yearning to steal it from her. To shoulder the weight of it, as he'd done many times before for the ones he loves, so she may be unburdened and...happy.

Fulfilled.

With a crane of his neck and with gentle care, he nudged her plush shoulder, his eyes full of sympathy. Nonsense. What must have happened to you in your last life could not have been your fault. Of this he's sure, because how could a woman so pure have done anything to greet the beast that is death?

It is a great sorrow that you passed. But you're here now— with me he doesn't utter, And no harm will come of you again. Of this, I swear to you.