(1311-05-17) Blind No More
Summary: Oliver meets Gwenaelle at Eisheth's temple, and a miracle is performed. (Overseen by Eisheth, providing Spiritual poses.)
RL Date: May 17, 2019
Related: To Heal or Not and Research and Prayers
cerise eneas gwenaelle oliver 

Temple of Eisheth - Marsilikos

Architecture so very reminiscent of Hellene style is apparent in the tall columns of milky white marble rising all the way to the high ceiling that has been painted with floral patterns of finest artistry, giving the hallways surrounding the atrium-like space in its center an airy feel. More frescos cover the stone walls, some depicting Eisheth healing the sick and the wounded, others showing scenarios of lighter atmosphere with Her as the patron of arts, playing a lap harp, singing and telling tales.

There is a path if one follows the pattern on the floor inlaid with mosaic stones of various green shades, a path that leads from the impressive double doors in a winding circle deeper into the center, an inner square with no roof where the sacred pool is located. Moss covers the rocks surrounding it, and they must be climbed if one wishes to anoint themselves in the holy waters of the pool. Fire and candles of beeswax can be found in a cabinet in one of the hallways. And there is hardly a day, when the effigy of Eisheth on the larger rock in the center of the pool has not one or two freshly lit candles at its feet.

Priests and acolytes attired in the sea-blue robes of Eisheth clergy roam the temple, ready to offer counsel, arrange for healing services in the nearby infirmary or perform rituals to worship the patron Companion of Eisande. Light filters in through circular windows of stained glass, painting the interior occasionally in shades of blue, turquoise and green, especially on sunny days.

When looking out of the windows, you see: It is a spring day. The weather is warm and fair.


The discussions and research was done, as was the talks with both Eneas and Oliver both. A day decided upon, though not so much a time. Gwenaelle wouldn't rush Oliver, letting him decide just when he might be up to arriving to the temple. For the most part, Gwenaelle would attempt to rest a little beforehand, the other priests and priestesses knowing to send for her whenever Oliver arrives.

When one of the acolytes knocks on her door, the redheaded priestess answers, and would soon arrive with a friend, Eneas. Calm and composed, perhaps oddly so, for surely there are others in the temple that might be watching, curiously.

-

The Basilisque guard Bellami arrives first. He is followed by Henri, a man all in black with bright blue eyes. He has his arm around a young man's arm who is walking with a cane, tapping the ground. The young lord and his entourage are shown towards Gwen. He keeps his head down and he walks beside Henri quietly. He's wearing simple pants and a shirt but a Basilisque colored jacket. He even bathed today as his hair is still a little wet and brushed back out of his face.

-

Well, Eneas is only there to observe, really. Hopefully merely to spirit the priestress away afterwards, for they are expecting the red-head to be quite drained no matter how things turn out. While Gwen might be composed, Eneas has never been one to hide his emotions much and he does not particulary look happy about the whole thing, but he is there, walking in behind the priestress, giving her hand a final squeeze, before he does let her go to make her preparations. Well, perhaps a quiet word whispered, mouthed really. "Don't over do it…". Only then does he step to the side, corssing his arms in front of his chest to find a place to lean against a wall or pillar and out of the way. Worried, is he.

-

A glance to Eneas is given at the quiet words given to her, "We shall see." No promises are made to not overdo it, not by the priestess who does not know what the Companion may require of her. Turning away from the merc, she smiles to Henri and his charge, "Good day to both of you, Lord Oliver and Henri." She motion for them to follow her to an area where they might sit, near the front where the sacred pool is found, and yet somewhat out of the way where others might be. "How do you feel today?" She asks of Oliver once they take seats.

-

Henri sees Eneas and bows his head. He grumbles something to Oli who bows his head as well. Then they are lead over to to the sacred pool and he keeps his head down. "I am afraid." He speaks softly. "I … still don't want you to hurt yourself to do this." He says quietly. "Yet, whatever Eisheth decides I will praise her." Henri grins a little and pats Oliver's hand. "I could not get Anse or Sebastien to be here. They are hard to contact. So he is stuck with me."

-

"It is alright to be scared, Oliver. Nothing wrong in that. But you are safe here, that I promise you." Gwenaelle says before sitting on the floor, her robes tucked about her. Reaching up for his hands, she takes them in her own, "Do not worry about me. Eisheth takes care of Hers." There is no fear in her voice, no worry at all. When Henri speaks of being unable to get Oliver's brothers there, she nods, "Do you want to wait till we can get one or both of them here?" The option is put forth to him, to see what he wants.

-

Eneas does narrow his eyes a little at Gwen's reply, though for once he holds his tongue. They went over this (and round and round) a few times by now. If she overdoes it, Eneas might just drag her off. That, or she will get him to have that bronze mask cast for the Eisheth statue yet! And get him charged with Blasphemy. That'll teach her! Ahem.

As Henri offers a bow, only for Oliver to follow suit, Eneas first blinks, then frowns a little, shaking his head. No words come from him, however.

-

Henri hands Oliver over to Gwen and takes a step back to stand beside Eneas. "Why are you frowning?" He asks idly. Oliver though slowly takes a seat and shakes his head. "They haven't really been part of this journey. Sebastien doesn't even know." He grins a little. "I prayed to Eisheth not to take this from me if you would be harmed in any way. I hope she listens." He speaks softly.

Cerise arrives from the Temple District.

-

Eneas tilts his head towards Henri as she takes up part of the wall beside him. Lips part for a moment, before he takes a deeper breath and perhaps swallows a more sarcastic reply. "There is no need for genuflection towards me. Especially not in Her temple.", he comments. He is a tad grumpy, but it does not seem to be directed at Henri or even Oliver, for that matter, but the situation in general.

-

It is mid-morning. The temple is open as normal, with a few of her priests and priestesses to be found within the main temple itself, going about their usual actions be it overseeing acolytes or talking to those that have come to the temple for whatever reason. Near the front is a quartet of people - Eneas and Henri standing to the side, watching over the other two. Oliver sits in a chair with Gwenaelle seated on the floor, her robes tucked about her, holding the young man's hands in her own.

With a smile, the redheaded priestess does chuckle quietly to Oliver, "She will listen only if she wants to. But if you are sure of that, then… we shall start, hmm?" The last is spoken by Gwenaelle before green eyes peer briefly to where Eneas and Henri stand, then back to the unseeing young lord before her, his hands squeezed by her own. Surely by now, there may be another robed priest or priestess that may drift closer both in curiosity, and the wish to perhaps give help if need be.

-

The young lord nods his head. "Praise be to Eisheth." He speaks softly. He squeezes her hand and stares off into her eyes but not in her eyes since he's quite blind. Henri grins a little and shrugs. "No point being rude." He speaks softly to Eneas. He turns and looks at his charge. His eyes focused on the priestess. Oliver takes a moment and nods. "Let's begin…"

-

Cerise strolls in wearing leathers from head to toe, and a sivery rapier dangling from her hip. Unlike her simple, weatherbeaten garb, her weapon is an ornate thing with a beautiful hilt and not a single scratch on it. It looks entirely unused. Like her weapon, she appears unblemished and without the slightest wound on her person. Her hair is wound into a ponytail that bobs from side to side as she twists her head, looking about for… something.

She doesn't have to go far before her gaze settles on the small group huddled about the nobleman. Stormy blue eyes dart between each of those gathered, and at a slower pace, she makes her way toward the group. The quiet shuffle of her leather boots announce her presence before she does with the simple question of, "Blinded?"

-

Eneas simply lofts an eyebrow at Henri for a moment, before blue eyes glance back at the priestress and the young lord. Drawing a deeper breath, once more eyes loft to the statue of the Angel in whose temple they are, lips to be licked briefly, before he is thankfully distracted by the question. A short glance is given to Cerise and brief nod of his head in the affirmative.

-

A male acolyte of Eisheth draws near, and he lifts his finger to his lips towards Cerise. It seems like something unusual is about to be attempted, and so there is a certain excitement in his demeanor, coupled with a hint of concern as he looks towards Gwenaelle and Oliver.

-

Gwenaelle doesn't really notice the newest addition to the group there, her attention given completely to Oliver. Once he agrees, she smiles again, nodding her head though he cannot see the motion. A priest will bring a small bowl of water that he dips from the sacred pool to her, standing there as she takes one hand from Oliver's to dip fingers into the liquid. "This is just water from the sacred pool.." A warning offered quietly to the young lord as her hand lifts, dripping, to brush against his brows over his eyes. Already, she is praying, words softly spoken, likely only really understood by Oliver and the priest who remains there, offering his own quiet prayers. Eisheth is called upon, the Companion whose temple they are in. Feverant are those words given by Gwenaelle who's face is composed, her gaze swinging from Oliver's face to the statue and back again.

-

Henri slowly looks over to the woman and his brow lifts. He frowns at Cerise and grumbles quietly to respect Gwenaelle though right around the time of Eneas's nod. He sees the shush gesture and grins a little. Spiteful dick. He glances back to Gwenaelle and Oliver. Oliver tilts his head a little at the sound of leather coming close. He sniffs the air and then hears the voice. He takes a deep breath and chews his bottom lip. He feels the drops and he closes his eyes, listening to the prayer to the companion and repeating it in his mind.

-

When the priestess touches her fingertips against Oliver's forehead, there is a brief impression, a faint sort of electricity there, they both will feel. The subsides in the moment that fleeting touch to his brows is over. But in this fleeting moment, Gwenaelle felt almost as if she could sense the issue with Oliver's eyesight.

-

Cerise looks ready to remain silent and observe until the young acolyte soundlessly suggests she do exactly that. Her gaze shoots sideways toward him, and she rolls her tongue in her mouth as if trying to feel her way around the words so eager to pour forth. To her meager credit, though, she does keep them to herself - even if it means literally biting the tip of her tongue. The young woman turns that same unruly gaze in the opposite direction after Henri grumbles, back toward him, but she keeps her mouth closed.

A hand rests on her hip with a thumb hooked in the belt looped about her waist. Once she gets over the *indignity* of being shushed in a place of healing, she brings her attention to Gwenaelle, and watches her methods with unblinking attentiveness.

-

As the ritual is begun, Eneas finally takes a slow, deep breath, before he uncrosses his arms and even shakes his hands at his sides, to perhaps loosen muscles that have been clenching fists for a bit too long. The man is tense, no question about it, but as much as he is in a bad mood about the proceedings in front of them, he seems to make an effort, especially when that short glance from the red-headed priestress is given, to at least try to not be a distraction to her.

-

Gwenaelle seems to inhale during one moment, her wet hand to brush against Oliver's brows once again after being dipped in the bowl for a second time. Still, the prayers are offered up, that sense of calmness and peace to surround the both of them. A connection surely between the redheaded priestess and the Companion whom she calls upon. Brows furrow slightly, a third dip of her hand into the water made, and this time, it is Oliver's temples that she touches, first one side, then the other where a scar was left behind after the accident, her hand to linger there, almost massaging lightly as she prays. Eyes half close, as if that might allow her to sense something better, lips still moving in prayer.

-

The sensation returns, in the moment the Priestess of Eisheth touches the temples of the young lord. The soothing touch evolves into something more transcendental, warmth from her digits pouring through his skin and what lies beneath. It feels pleasant, causing an odd little feeling of giddiness in them both, in the pit of Oliver's stomach, and in Gwenaelle's as well. While her thoughts and prayers turn to Eisheth, conjuring her blessing to achieve the impossible, the pull slowly increases. Warmth turning into a heat that is not unpleasant but certainly more intense. There is a soft prickling sensation, starting at Oliver's temples, and then progressing deeper.

Gwenaelle's senses are guided by a higher power, directed towards those optic nerves beyond the eyeballs, and yes she can sense it, the severed connection there. Meanwhile, she starts swaying a little in her seated position on the floor when a slight dizziness begins to set in. But the task certainly begins already taking its toll on her. But. She is not done. Not yet.

-

Oli feels the connection with Gwenaelle and bites his bottom lip. He shivers as move water is touched to his temples. His eyes stay closed and he grumbles quietly a prayer to Eisheth. Requesting forgiveness for his fathers actions and thanking Eisheth for just being there to talk to. He's not the best at prayers but he tries. He feels a little and his breathing quickens. He feels the sway just from the touch to his temples and he lifts his hands, sliding them over her arms to her shoulders, steadying her.

-

Cerise gradually lifts her eyebrows as she watches the ritual unfold. One hand lifts from her side to brush slow across her cheek, then dips behind her head to fiddle with the band that keeps her ponytail wound. She remains silent, still, and unobtrusive as possible, though she chews briefly on her bottom lip when Gwenaelle begins to teeter and sway.

-

Oh, surely the priestress will get a stern talking to by Eneas. Making him believe she would just attempt to alliviate the headdaches, rather than try to restore the sight. Ahem. So what if it might have been the angel that made the decision. She can have a stern talking to, too!

For now, however, Eneas remains quiet. Well, as quiet as one can be, when one grips that pommel harder, especially when the red-haired one starts to sway. Blue eyes dart to the side for a moment, to the acolyte neary, to the priests that flank and stay nearby the kneeling pair. They have more experience than he has at this, after all.

-

Picking up on the sensation, clinging to it, Gwenaelle doesn't let it fade this time. Her touch will linger there at Oliver's temple, and once that knowledge comes to her? She will grasp it tightly, working then to reconnect what she sees as being severed. She may not completely understand the anatomy that comes to her mind, but she can see what is broken, and want to fix it. The prayers continue, nothing else existing beyond that connection felt between she and Oliver, the power that comes from her Companion as She works through her Scion this day.

There is no telling how long she has been sitting there when she starts to sway slightly, feeling in one way so powerful, and in another, so weak already. With Oliver's hands steadying her, she continues, not letting anything divert her from the work that needs to be done to see it through, to see the healing complete. The priest at her side holds the bowl, but is obviously also watching the good Sister, perhaps trying to judge if and when she might have extended herself too far in what she does for the lord.

Gwenaelle will fully accept whatever fussing she gets later by the mercenary! If she wasn't so focused, she'd likely feel the weight of his frown over there.

-

Henri watches Oliver carefully and then Gwen. His eyes turn to Eneas and sees him grip the sword. He doesn't have a weapon to defend Oli with so he just takes a small step forward to protect Oliver. Oliver keeps his eyes closed, praying and thanking the companion for whatever their choice will be. His jaw tenses as he feels the connection deeper. His hands trying to steady the swaying woman.

-

A final barrier needs to fall, so that Gwenaelle can become the vessel of the Companion's powers, and when it does, there is no holding back. Her eagerness with which she embraces that sudden divine insight, her willingness to attempt the impossible pave the way for the power that is running from her arms to her fingers and into Oliver's head. Even without seeing those damaged optic nerves, the priest can sense them, and now feel as they are slowly restored through the miracle of Eisheth's gift. For Oliver, there is a heat to sense behind his eyeballs, not quite unpleasant but odd. Tingling and itching for a moment, in a way that will make him close his eyes and perhaps create a momentary feeling of unease.

And then. Suddenly. It is done.

Like a sudden silence that follows after a heated skirmish, an emptiness grows from all that intensity, a void that reaches for Gwenaelle, grabs her and swallows her, as her senses are whirled into black oblivion. The priestess collapses, and it was probably a good idea of her, not to be standing while attempting this.

-

Though she might not avert her eyes from Gwenaelle and the miraculous ritual before her, Cerise stirs when she sees a particular movement in the corner of her eye. Her hand settles onto Eneas' own, perched atop his sword pommel, and she wordlessly urges him toward peace with a squeeze of her fingers. But the priestess' collapse brings her hand to her mouth as a sharp, "Angels," smashes her silence. Lips twist into a frown, but she makes no effort to rush and tend to the woman. Instead, she takes a half-step back, and affixes her attention onto Oliver, curious.

-

Oliver feels the heat behind his eyes and tightens how they are closed. He winces a little and then he's feeling Gwen collapse and he makes a small noise as he reaches for her. He wraps his arms around her and cries out in distress as he carefully puts her down. His eyes are still closed. Henri watches and then Gwen is going down and he grumbles and rushes over to her. Oliver though sits up and slowly opens his eyes. He squints and rubs his eyes slowly. It takes a moment and then the lord just sits there as tears fall from his eyes. He turns and looks at the faces he doesn't recognize and he turns to look at Gwen's face. "Please… is she okay?"

-

Of course Eneas is a Son of Camlach, so Peace is not the state of mind that he defaults too, and the touch to his hand on the sword pommel does cause his head to tilt to the side slightly toward Cerise, the tension in his form rather increasing by a fraction rather than diminishing as if the blood in his veins is more attuned to expect an attack from such a touch than a calming gesture.

It is tempered with a certain dicipline, however, for Eneas does not move to remove it, or comment on it, though that might be because other events unfold that forestall it. For when Gwenaelle slumps, though is thankfully at least somewhat caught by Oliver, that tension is released by the mercenary in movement and a muttered epithet under his breath about certain body parts of his own patron angel.

While having the stature of a soldier, Eneas is not that tall or broad shouldered as to deserve the kind of space people give him, especially when he walks with purpose as he does now, for surely that look of his suggests that if one would step in front of him now, he might not stop to go right through them.

-

Warmth and heat are felt, coursing through her, and into Oliver. A nearness to her Companion that Gwenaelle could never describe. Her faith given to Eisheth that all would be made right, or at least as right as She would allow. That which is broken is fixed, and the moment that it is, that heady power flicks off.

And with it, does the priestess. Thank goodness she had been seated on the floor during this healing, for even if Oliver hadn't managed to keep her from tumbling right over, she at least, didn't have far to fall. The priest that was there, sets the bowl aside, reaching out to help Oliver lay Gwen out, though surely the solid stride of Eneas' approach, draws his attention to the merc, and his steely gaze as he crosses the distance.

AS for Gwenaelle, she's out like a light…. that Oliver is getting to see now!

-

Henri sees how Oli looks at him. Actually AT him. He blinks a few times and grins. "Well shit." He grumbles quietly. He walks over to Oliver and pulls the young man from Gwen. "Check on her later. Her… protector or something will take her away." He nods towards Eneas. Oliver only relaxes in Henri's arms when he hears his voice. He looks at Gwen and frowns. "I want to help." Henri shakes his head and pulls him back. "Let him help." He grumbles about Eneas and Oliver turns to look at Cerise. "Do I know her?" Henri shakes his head and keeps pulling the young now seeing man out of the way.

-

"Stubborn…damn…red-headed…..", Eneas keeps grumbling and clenching his teeth. Yep, won't do to curse out Eisheth's priestress in her temple, right? Especially not when she is out like a light. Yep. Better to save it when she can hear it. Ahem. Kneeling down next to the unconscious one, Eneas does seek to scoop her up in his arms. Oliver's comments make Eneas shake his head, and after making sure the red-head is actually /breathing/ — despite surely the other priests having reacted differently if she hadn't — he finally grimaces. "She'll be out for weeks…", he finally manages, blue eyes to turn to regard the man. "IF you want to help…let her rest.". That, at least, he has experience with, as much as he might dislike it. Pushing back to his feet, he then seeks to move into the wings with the priestess, towards her cell for now.

-

Like a well orchestrated play, every person sets to their roles without a heartbeat of hesitation. All except Cerise. She stands there, lips parted and jaw slack as she looks from face to face. Oliver's question stirs her from her stupor enough to, at least, close her mouth before anything flies in. As the footfalls of the departing fade away, she places her own hand casually on the hilt of her shiny, more-for-show-than-anything weapon. "No, we don't know each other. I came to ask a question of the clergy and was fortunate enough to witness a miracle." Cerise stoops forward to get a good look at Oliver, nearly eye-to-eye. "So. You're either the greatest mummer I've ever seen, or you were blind. *Were* blind. How about a drink to celebrate? You can tell me the story."

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