She walked forward and stood directly in front of the woman, craning her neck to meet warm coral colored eyes.
“I apologize for not introducing myself earlier, child, but I will do so now. I am Priestess Tulip, welcome to the Church of Asmophel, The Nurturer of life and light.” She swept an arm out and bowed her head, her left palm settling above her heart. Her eyes widened and she tilted her head. Tulip straightened and then kneeled until they were eye to eye. For some reason she felt warm, comfortable. “May I know your name, little flower?” She ‘hmmed’ in thought. “...What a name?”
Tulip stiffened and she bit her lip. “A name is something you are called, just as I am called Tulip, did your mama call you something?” She brightened and her eyes widened. “Oh! Mama calls me girl!” She smiled brightly, but it dimmed when she noticed the pitying gaze sent her way. “...I see. I’m sorry, but that’s not quite what I meant.” She frowned in confusion. Tulip’s brows furrowed in thought and she frowned lightly. She flinched back imperceptibly, so the Priestess quickly smoothed out her expression.
The Priestess rose gracefully and extended her hand without another comment, and the girl reluctantly held it with her dirty one. Tulip held her hand with a light grasp, and guided her further inside.
Through the doors stood a wide chamber lined in green and gold banners and bathed in vibrant light from the stained glass windows adorning the walls. Saturated color spread across every surface the light could reach, dancing as the plants inside swayed to an unseen wind. The walls were just as glaringly white as the outside facade, but plants covered every surface available and it barely peaked through the thick cover. Rows of pews with moss cushions sat empty as the day ended, the moss and clover carpet surrounded them, plush and teeming with vitality. Six columns supported an upper mezzanine where more pews sat and flowers, rich green cloth, and golden ropes draped over its banisters. Hanging wisteria left violet petals drifting lazily through the space. Vines laden with flowers and ivy sprawled along the walls and ceiling, growing thicker as it reached an altar towards the back of the room. The altar sat directly in front of a large tree bearing fruits, the same fruit she had eaten on the steps. Moss, vines, and flowers climbed its trunk and cluttered its branches, weighing them down with their weight.
A single man stood with his back facing them behind the altar made of marble. He was surrounded by floating golden lights and foliage with large flowers and white leaves. He gracefully doused their light with a tool made of gold.
The Priestess kneeled in front of the altar, “Head Priest, a wandering petal has found our garden.” He turned and frowned, glancing at the child still on her feet. His face was wrinkled and highlighted with gold, his body stooped, but he shone with a strange vitality. His ornate robes were laden with flowers, his form unable to be discerned beneath them. All that could be seen were weathered hands, gnarled like old wood, with gold lines that traveled beneath his sleeves.
“I see. If food has not been prepared, do so. I will meet with you once I am finished here.” He turned back to the lights and one by one they continued to be snuffed. The Priestess’ shoulders released tension the girl hadn’t noticed and she rose with a nod. She gently laid a hand on her shoulder and guided her to a dark wooden door she had not seen to the left of the room.
She couldn’t help but look back for a brief moment at the man. He too, could not help another glance at the child. Their eyes met, gray to gold, and he flinched with surprise and furrowed his brow. But they disappeared through the door, and he was left alone, the only thing to accompany him was the rustling of leaves and the growing dim of the chamber.
They walked down a white corridor to the nearest door on the left, their steps soundless atop the moss. The windows here were smaller and clear, allowing golden light from the setting sun to shine unhindered. As soon as the door opened a wave of warmth settled across her skin. Tulip sat her down in a wooden chair in a room that smelled divine. Drool escaped her lips and she quickly wiped it on her arm.
Garlic and dried peppers hung from the rafters. Cabinets stuffed with spices and vegetables pooled on the counter space and shelves. The window was open. A breeze made the hanging ingredients sway and burst with aromatic fragrance.
The Priestess moved to a large cauldron, boiling with stew. She ladled a portion into a wooden bowl and placed it along with a spoon in front of her. She looked at the spoon with confusion and then grabbed the bowl on either side, tipping it up into her mouth. She put it down when she heard a clack of wood on wood and noticed the Priestess had sat beside her with another portion. Tulip gave her a meaningful look and grabbed her spoon. “Like this.” She slid the spoon into the stew and then brought it to her lips.
She frowned in confusion, but grabbed her spoon in her fist and roughly copied her. Moving spoonful after spoonful into her mouth until there was none left. Her tummy rumbled and she eyed the cauldron but didn’t ask for seconds. Tulip followed her gaze and stood, grabbing both of their bowls.
She slumped in disappointment, but smiled, that had been the tastiest thing she’d ever eaten, even better than the fruit! Then a bowl with another portion was put in front of her and she snapped her head to look at The Priestess in surprise. “Thank you!” She smiled widely and grasped the spoon with newfound excitement.
Tulip watched her eat with amusement as she clumsily ate with the new tool.
“There is a special ceremony we will need to conduct if you are to stay with us. You will become a member of the garden, one of its clergy.” She paused with a huff and gently wiped a splatter of soup on her cheek away with her thumb. “Every member undergoes a naming ceremony, in which one is denoted with the name of a plant in order to integrate into the garden’s ecosystem.” The girl stared up into pink-orange eyes with shining gray ones. Her small fingers clutched at the rim of the half-empty bowl.
Tulip chuckled, something sad worming its way through her system. “However, I think we can make an exception for tonight, as I would feel bad simply calling you girl.” She bit her lip in trepidation. “But we will need to wait for the Head Priest.” She nodded, returning her attention to the bowl, her stomach warm and full. Distracted, Tulip’s fingers drummed a discordant rhythm on the wooden table, her lips turning down into a frown.
Hesitantly, she stood and patted the Priestess’ arm, with the other hand she brought her bowl up to the Priestess in offering. Tulip giggled and took it gently from her hands. “Thank you very much, little flower.” She stared up at her, a strange feeling welling up in her chest.
Tulip patted her arm in turn but she flinched at the contact. Tulip’s eyes widened in worry. “Sorry! Sorry. I had forgotten. Come here, little flower.” A feeling of calm quenched her panic at the pain and she shuffled closer to the Priestess’ side. The Priestess looked into her eyes. “Do not be afraid.”
She nodded. Tulip brought her hand up and it was encased in a golden glow, two circles spun lazily just above her palm and stretched to the tips of her fingers. It rotated slowly, almost lazily, and the same markings she had seen throughout the day were mesmerizing. She gasped and froze in shock. “Relax. It is a second level spell called burn heal. It will help your skin heal.”
The palm hovered over her skin for a brief moment and then swept across her body in a quick motion. The redness faded from her skin until she was only slightly pink and she breathed in relief. The light faded from Tulip’s hand as she observed her work. “That is all I will do for now, I don’t wish to overtax your body.” She nodded distractedly, staring at her skin in wonder.
The door creaked open, breaking the peaceful atmosphere, and the Head Priest stepped inside. Immediately Tulip bowed her head deeply towards him. He waved a hand and she relaxed.
His attention immediately turned towards where she stood beside the Priestess and her shoulders hunched inwards subconsciously. As he observed her, she observed him in turn.
Deep wrinkles marred ruddy skin, deep set gold eyes twinkled with intelligence, a warm smile grew, filling with amusement as he stood still to allow her to get a good look. His robes held more green and gold than the priestess beside her and looked heavier, made out of a more robust fabric. More strange patterns shimmered in the low light along the gold trim. The flowers adorning his shoulders covered his form entirely, covering most of the clothing he donned. Her fist clenched a little tighter around her spoon.
This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.
He sat across from Tulip, taking a moment to run gnarled hands over the dark wood. She remained standing. His brows furrowed and he stared at the patterns in the wood intently, as if the grain was holding the answers he seeked. “I am called Dahlia, and I am the Head Priest of this humble place of worship.” He turned to her. “Child, how have you found yourself here, in the Great Nurturer’s church?”
Tulip made to speak, but he waved his hand without taking his eyes off of the small girl. She tilted her head with a little frown and took a quick glance down at the wood grain in front of her. “Mama brought me here. She said food here. Enough for… Both of us.” Crystalline tears gathered at the corners of her eyes and suddenly she was holding back sobs.
The Head Priest paused for a moment before standing in a smooth motion and swept her into a warm embrace, her head tucked neatly into his shoulder, a hand cradling her head. At first she felt a flash of alarm, but then all she felt was a wave of comfort race across her body. “I understand, child. Do you know your way to your home? Just nod or shake your head.” She shook her head. The route they had taken had been long and winding, and she’d never been this far from home.
She felt him sigh heavily, her head moving alongside his chest. The Head Priest and Priestess exchanged grave looks. “Prepare a room for tonight, we will discuss what must be done in the morning. This little flower has had a long day.” Tulip stood and bowed. She stiffened and struggled out of the embrace, though the Head Priest allowed her to escape without any resistance.
She ran to Tulip and grasped her hand, shaking her head. Tulip bit her lip with a conflicted expression and glanced towards where Dahlia sat. He chuckled and stood. “I will prepare it, then, wait here a moment.” The Priestess frowned. “Wait a moment!” Dahlia paused with eyebrows raised. Tulip bit her lip as she hesitated. “If this girl is taken into the clergy, then she will receive a name.” Dahlia nodded, “yes, if she joins us in the clergy she will have to replace her own, that is the way it is done.” Tulip frowned. “She does not have a name now.” Dahlia’s mouth set into a grim line and his eyes flashed. “I see. We will hold her ceremony tomorrow then, whether she will stay with the clergy or not.”
Tulip frowned. “But tonight-”
“It can only be done tomorrow. She will survive another night.” Dahlia interrupted. “You know what the ceremony contains.”
Reluctantly, she backed down. A tug on her hand and glance down to her new charge had her expression softening though, and she relented without much fuss.
The Priestess looked her over and quirked a brow. “Maybe it’s better this way, you will need sleep after a bath anyway.” As Tulip uttered those words, she was already ushering her out the kitchen door. She briefly glimpsed the Head Priest disappear around a bend, and they followed. They walked around the same bend, but stopped at a door with a window set at the top, too high for her to reach. Moonlight shining through the window cast them in stark relief. As they stepped through the threshold and out under the night sky a breeze blew over them, causing her to shiver.
Tulip pursed her lips in thought then stepped back inside for a moment, leaving her alone and the door ajar. She stared up at the moon and stars, transfixed. Steps on wood signaled Tulip’s return with a bundle of clothes under her arm.
She paused for a moment and observed her. “little flower… Have you ever had a bath before? Or been washed? Cleaned?” She perked up and nodded. Mama had taken her to the well. “I see, that’s good, then you know we’ll have to take your clothes off?” She nodded and stripped without hesitation. A sharp breath had her looking up to see Tulip’s eyes had widened and her breath had hitched. “Oh, child…”
She looked down at herself, her skeletal frame standing stark against sallow skin, littered with discolorations and bruising. She looked up questioningly and Tulip visibly steadied herself. She smiled wanly and spoke in a gentle tone. “Sorry little flower, this is going to be a bit chilly.” She held up a bucket filled with water from a nearby faucet. “Please stand still so I can clean you well.” She took a rag and dipped it in the water, before carefully dragging it along her skin. She shivered.
She watched as the rag moved in gentle circles, taking dirt and grime from her skin. She watched in silence as the rag pressed against her bruises and sensitive skin. Silent tears fell from Tulip’s eyes.
They didn’t speak.
Water ran in rivulets down to the ground until she was standing in a small cloudy puddle. She looked down at her toes and wriggled them, feeling the wet grass under her feet. The rag paused in its ministrations and she looked up to meet Tulip’s eyes. She quickly looked away and she heard a sad sigh before dainty fingers lifted her chin so their eyes met again.
“I need to clean your face, as well.” She nodded her assent and the rag dipped into the water. The cloth met her cheek and she closed her eyes. Tulip rubbed soothing circles across her face, traveling from cheek to cheek, temple to temple, and down her nose. The rag pulled away. She opened her eyes to find Tulip had kneeled down and leaned in. She stayed still. Tulip planted a kiss on the tip of her nose. She giggled and Tulip followed with something halfway between a sob and a laugh.
She took the rag from Tulip’s hands and wiped away the tears from Tulip’s cheeks. Tulip’s face scrunched up and she pressed their foreheads together with her eyes screwed shut, frame trembling.
She hugged Tulip just as the Head Priest had done and waited for the shaking to subside. She heard a heavy sigh and Tulip pulled away after a moment. Their eyes met, an apologetic smile gracing Tulip’s lips. “I should be the one comforting you, little flower.” Tulip ran deft hands through her matted hair, doing her best to disentangle the mess. She pulled a comb from within her robes, it glittered gold in the moonlight.
The comb dipped into the bucket, and when it emerged it seemed to shine as brightly as the moon. Her eyes widened and her gaze followed the comb until a gentle hand pushed her head down so Tulip could use it. It glided through her hair as if running through water. She melted under the light sensation. Suddenly her hair felt lighter than it ever had, and as Tulip pulled away she ran her own hands through it, amazed that her small hands didn’t catch and came back clean. She looked at the comb in amazement.
Tulip giggled into her hand with fond eyes and held it out to her. She took it and it felt cumbersome to her little fingers. Tulip pointed to the markings along the gold teeth. “Runes. Given by the Divinity of Culture and Relationships, Marion, to their worshippers.” She traced a finger along the combs' spine lovingly. “A gift handcrafted by my mother, a High Priestess. She enchanted it to restore any hair it combs through to a beautiful state.” She sighed forlornly, her gaze growing distant with memory. “She used to sit behind me and comb my hair in the morning, humming hymns under her breath. She gave it to me when I decided to join the Gardeners of Asmophel.”
Tulip stood and took it gently from her grasp, tucking it back into her robes. “But I can tell you more of it another time. Let’s get you into some proper clothing, little flower.”
Dahlia found them not long after. She stood in the slightly too big clothes with dripping hair, and Tulip fussed with the fabric around her shoulders, as it kept sliding off her slight frame.
She could feel sleep tugging at her senses, her head drooping before she startled herself awake. Tulip giggled as she took her hand once again and Dahlia led them back inside and down a corridor made of the same white walls. Their silent footsteps echoed in the empty hall. Time seemed distant to her as she struggled to keep her eyes open. Suddenly, they stopped in front of one of the doors in the hall, nearly identical to the others.
The nondescript door led to a nondescript room. She glanced around warily. It was larger than her house. A single window sat on the back wall, allowing the light of the moon to illuminate the simple desk and chair, and the pure white blankets on the small bed. The floor remained the same vibrant moss, and the walls were overgrown with ivy.
“I hope it’s to your liking, little flower, I am in the next room over, so please knock if you need anything.” The Priestess kneeled before her and brushed ash brown strands away from her eyes. “I will see you in the morning.” The Head Priest and Priestess paused for a moment before backing out of the room and shutting the door behind them. Their muffled voices lingered then grew dim as they walked away.
She turned and padded across the floor to the bed, assuming it was where she was supposed to sleep. She climbed up cautiously, nearly slipping on the slippery blankets as they shifted beneath her weight. She sat on top of them for a moment before lifting them to find another layer. She crawled inside and instantly found herself a bit warmer. A hand reached out from beneath and grabbed at the edge of the pillow. It also disappeared under the blankets. She brought it against her chest, clutching it tight. Her head rested against it and she closed her eyes, imagining her head was resting over her mama’s heart.
Her mind was exhausted and worn, but her body refused to relax. Her head didn’t move up and down with her mama’s breathing, and there was no heartbeat for her to listen to as she slipped into her dreams. She pondered the soft bed below her body and the empty room. She shifted and pushed herself up, nearly losing her balance as the bed shifted.
The blanket fell off of her shoulders and she shivered. Wrapping the blanket around herself like a cocoon, she slid off the bed to the floor, where she curled up with her back to the wall, and closed her eyes. At least the floor felt a little like home. Her breathing evened out, and sleep found her as the moon rose to its apex in the sky.