Warrior of the Void Book 1, Chapter 30

“Yes dear, may I help you?” Muur found Priestess Mamane in the Ossuary itself, overseeing a gaggle of initiates setting up pews, lecterns and candle holders.

“Just the opposite.” The lizard woman said as she presented the note.

“Oh?” Taking the note, the elderly priestess scanned the few words written on it before passing it back, “Having you help me, hm? Well, I’ll not say no to more hands in setting up the morning’s sermon… Harthdin?”

“Yes, Priestess?” After being called upon, one of the initiates turned to look at the two of them, “Do you require anything beside the incense? I was about to go fetch once I finished with the pews”

“Only that you take this young woman along,” Mamane motionned at Muur, “Hm… On second thought, since there will be two of you, do you believe you could bring out the incense braziers?”

The Hyur quickly looked Muur up and down, before shrugging, “I don’t see why not. Size difference might make it a smidge awkward, but no more than when I had Fafafel help me with that last week.”

“Good, off you two go then.” Shooing the two, the Priestess went back to looking over the current proceedings.

“Alright, well. Come this way kid, censers and incense are in the back.” Waving towards a door cleverly hidden out of view of where the congregation would stand, the man walked off. 

Behind the door was a small corridor, one with a door almost immediately to their left, and another farther in the back. Heading for the first, Harthdin pulled a keyring, “So, you’re a Doman right?” Flipping through his keys, he gave Muur a sideway glance, “How’s Eorzea treatin’ you so far?”

“Yesn’t.” Muur replied after a moment to check her memories. “I’m from the Azim Steppes, which is a bit to the northeast of Doma. A bit like the difference between Limsa and Ul’dah, I’m given to understand.”

“Huh,” That gave him pause even as he was turning the key within the lock, “Only others of your kind I met were the Thavnair merchants that took me and my folks from Dalmasca when it was invaded. Never mentioned any steppes when I asked them about their race.”

Unlocking the door, he pushed it open negligently and waved Muur in, “Still, question’s the same. How’s Eorzea been for you?”

“Aside from the corrupted crystals in the desert making me feel like death warmed over on my first trip to Ul’dah, everything and everyone’s been pretty nice. Sure, some cantankerous assholes here and scammers there, but on the whole I’m liking the place.” The lizard wizard explained as she walked in, “Especially happy that the Alchemist’s Guild is in the same city as the Ossuary, now that I have my condition under control thanks to the Guildmasters I can actually reclaim some of what I lost. Can’t really do labwork when you’re leaking unstable aether everywhere you go.”

“Can’t say I relate. I’m pretty happy being one of the forever initiates of this place”, He told her while he looked over the room’s contents, “Don’t think I’ve left Ul’dah ever since me and my folks ended up here as refug– Ah, blast it. Of course someone piled stuff in front of the stuff we need.”

Grumbling, he made his way towards said ‘stuff’. In and out of itself, the room wasn’t exactly messy. As far as Muur could tell, everything was organized, at least to a degree. Shelves upon shelves filled with either wooden boxes, or religious knick-knacks, and a plethora of assorted candle stands, candelabras and even a few… Giant balls? In the back. All things that were meant to be placed directly on the floor it seemed, “Hey, can you look around for the incense? Should be on the shelf with– we’re Watersday, right? It should be on the shelf with some waves carved on the front of the planks. When you find it, it should smell like seasalt and cinnamon–” Grabbing a candelabra, he shifted it to the side, “I’ll be trying to make a path to the braziers in the meanwhile.”

“Got it!” Muur replied as she got to work wading in, making liberal use of her tail to keep things from tumbling over in the wake of her fat ass. The two of them worked in relative quiet. 

“Hey, you sure it’s okay for you to worship the Twins?” Until her partner spoke up again, “I’m a worshiper of The Twelves, but that’s because I was a brat barely past his teething troubles when I left Dalmasca. Never had much time to learn to worship God and the High-Seraph – hells, I don’t even remember what her name’s even ‘sposed to be. Altira Or something? Might have been Ultia – Point is, wouldn’t it be an issue for you to convert like this?”

“For one, I’m pretty sure the Dusk Mother couldn’t care less about who her people worship so long as it isn’t the Dawn Father or any other love and rainbows sort of deity.” Muur said as she gingerly moved a candlestick out of the way with her tail, a memory bubbling upwards…

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“Mama?”

Her mother looked away from her work, a reed basket meant to replace those that had torn during the long ride across the green, “Yes, my little blessings?” Her smile was kind.

‘Far kinder than last night’ a small voice that didn't sound like hers whispered in her horns.

“Why doesn't the Mother like the pale ones?” The other one asked, unaware of the sad and angry voice in Muur’s head, “and– and why do the Mother not- not like them at all?”

“Oh dears. Have you been talking to your uncles again?” The two of them tried not to look guilty. But that only made them look guiltier, and then their mom shook her head like when they did bad things! Like it wasn't their uncles’ fault for having tasty rocks that crunched, and the funny smelling juice! “Putting aside that you’ve gone to them when I forbid it–,” The smile remained the same, but her tone turned it into a promise of unending chores for the next week. Curse their curiosity! “–The Mother doesn’t dislike the pale ones.”

“But–” “That drunkard Tumbinai ranted about them while feeding you honeyed candies he stole from the Domans, didn’t he?” 

She tried to argue, her uncles were usually right about things. But, it had been Tumbinai that said weird stuff about pale ones, “Yes…”

“This man, I swear. A mountain Raen calls you a ‘brute’ once, and it’s a lifelong grudge,” Giving a sigh, Muur’s mother set aside her half finished basket and motioned the two of them to sit on her knees, “Now, again. The Dusk Mother does not hate the pale ones– Let me finish Muur. What she hates is the Dawn Father that they worship.”

“But… don’t we do that too?” The other asked with a frown, “We had a fe– fe– big eat when the snow started to melt. And the old ladies said stuff about him?”

“It’s… complicated. The Dawn Father and Dusk Mother are our parents, little blessing. So, it’s only proper that we honour both,” raising a hand, her mother caressed her horns, making her lean deeper into her embrace, “But that doesn’t mean that we like him, or even respect him. Quite the opposite, actually.”

“I dungeddit.” Muur’s admission made the two of them bounce as her mother laughed.

“I’m not surprised. You’re a bit young to understand it. But– oh, I know. Let’s use an example! Look at Ghunan and Khojin,” The two of them perked up at the mention of the worst uncle of the tribe. He was never around, and when he was, he never seemed to do anything, “Ghunan constantly runs away from his wife, fools around for months at a time, before crawling back. Like he’s done nothing wrong, stays a few weeks to ‘educate’ his children, before stealing away in the night. Leaving Khojin to care for their little brood.”

Both Muur and the other nodded. The arguments between the two were loud enough to keep half the tribe awake during night-time, and her dad always put his hands on her ears when the weird sounds that always followed started.

“It’s hardly proper behaviour, right?” They once again nodded. Less so because they knew it was, and more because they were being told that it was, “Well, the Dawn Father is exactly like Ghunan. He fathered us, before running out on the Dusk Mother. Only to return every now and then in order to try and ‘teach’ us.”

“He’s a dum!” The other exclaimed. To which Muur agreed readily. No wonder people didn’t like the Dawn Father, but then what about the pale ones?

“That he is. And the pale ones? Well, they think that his conduct is praise worthy!” The two children looked at each other, blinking in confusion. The pale ones what? “Well, it’s a bit more complicated than that. But the Mother hates them because of that. She doesn’t like how almost all pale ones praise the Dawn Father above the one that’s actually been looking after them while he goes off to do heaven knows what.”

“So…” Muur felt her tiny brown scrunch up in concentration, “If we want her to like us, we have to say that only she is a great mom?”

“That she would,” Her seat shifted under her, and Muur found herself with a big wet kiss on her forehead, “In fact, as long as you agree that she’s the bestest mom, and that the Dawn Father’s the worst, she’d let you have as many cool sky uncles as you want! Well, as long as they don’t remind her of her deadbeat of a mate.”

Muur wasn’t sure what a ‘sky uncle’ was. But that sounded great! Bigger family was good, right?