Chapter 14: Vile Vice (Part 2!)

Vega continued to walk as Florato stopped in her tracks. Florato had never heard someone say that about themselves. She knew those feelings and sentiments about being rejected existed in lowered eyes and seclusion. But never had she heard it said, and especially by such a voice.

“Right, Vega… let’s at least do something in this place. After seeing that… dead guy, it’s getting tough to sleep on time.”

“Don’t worry, I buried him-him. He should be in heaven with Recor.” Vega looked up to the clouds, still pouring snow at a steady pace.

“Hope so. When I pass, I want to get buried. Screw wandering alone till the end of time. Dirt and some flowers will do me some good.” Florato put on her hood, still cold. Vega took to holding her hand, seeing her shivering.

The town stared at them, holding their foul images in its mind. Men, women, children and teens, all took quick looks as they passed by. Plenty stood and watched as an animated scarecrow walked past, as if she thought herself normal. Florato got glances, but more for her form rather than being out of place. The actress was used to the revolting stares of men, but these stares were coming more from the women.

It is a tragedy really, women preying on other women that succeed the beauty standard that so often makes them enemies rather than allies. They confuse this belief that ladies must have this hip size or that bust size as a belief that should define them. Sadly, they attack the women that fit this mold as though they are the one oppressing them.

I remember a time where fellow girls called each other sisters and friends. Now they call each other whores and bitches.

“Maybe we can help-help some people first.” The pair saw the thinner residents of the basin. It appeared that their harvest of breaker fruit and tundra fish was poor. Definitely hadn’t suffered a raid like the fields up north, but it likely resulted in supplies not getting into the town.

“How about the temple? Donations can get ya into heaven quick!” Vega pulled the actress to the temple.

“And how much exactly do we need to give to get blessed quick scheme?” Florato shifted her brows. She practiced Recorianism but clearly had some problems with the clergy.

“About a million gold. But every coin counts!” Vega had participated in the act of collecting donations for the temple. It was used to order holy books, invite wise men, and increase the size of the Priest’s fleet of horses. Horses were quite the status symbol, but Vega didn’t understand why he got them. Shouldn’t he be humble like everyone else, she thought.

“You know what, maybe we should pay that temple a visit. Along with their priest.” Florato muttered to herself, ready to get her friend back into the feast by any means necessary.

The temple here was in a lesser state. Not that it was in disrepair, but its atmosphere was that of a watering hole rather than a place to worship. Cobblestone walls, a gateway with roof tiles extending all around it. Vega opened the wooden gate, and the pair entered.

They navigated a series of courtyards, spacious and with a flowing pond.

“Never seen a temple like this-this. What saint do ya think this place is for?”

“Don’t know. Maybe Ba-Liato, or Guang Dia.” Florato shrugged, scanning the naked environment. Most temples didn’t sport many decorations on the outside. Just as you don’t see organs on the outside. If you did, that would be a bad sign of health.

“Did college teach ya who they were?”

“Not much besides that they were a bunch of old guys that prayed a lot.” Florato remarked, trying to come up with something of interest.

“The best saints usually do that.” Vega smiled. Aside from the wilderness, holy places interested her. While not for the people, but of the relations such a place spawned.

As they walked around, they both noticed a distinct lack of people. The courtyard was a park, with pathways and groves. It was trimmed and cultivated, but there was a strangeness about it. Despite all the plant life, it seemed barren.

“Wonder. Who-who keeps this place clean?” Just as the pair crossed over a bridge, a shining star hopped out. It looked to be a glowing butterfly, but had an odd star-like glint to it. A squeaking from it came out.

“Oh. Hello!” Vega waved to the star.

“Who are you talking to? The butterfly?” Florato squinted her eyes, and the image revealed itself. She saw a tiny humanoid, and its squeaks turned into yells. Sardonic screams shot out.

“Stop! Stop! Don’t go any further or I’ll have to take your virginity!” The floating being screeched.

“Go ahead, I don’t have it anymore.” Florato called as she walked past it, while Vega attempted to poke it.

“Damn it, can’t let you through. Stop! Or I’ll strangle your babies!” The being raced to the face of the actress, who was visibly irradiated.

“If I wasn't friends with Vega, I would have strangled you.” Florato whispered into the ear of the being, and continued forward. The butterfly was horrified at what it heard, and Vega grabbed it.

“Oh! Ya must be a Gello! What’s a demon doing a place of Recor?” Vega brushed the head of the demon, just like a kid would to a toy.

“Let go of me!” It tried to bite the glove of the scarecrow, but it chewed into her steel wires. Vega released the being, as it backed away. Struggling to breathe, it lowered onto Kaliba.

“You two, the priest isn’t ready for the ceremony yet! She needs time to prepare, and there's no one to help her!” The demon lay on its back, and on the back of Kaliba.

“Help? I’m right on it!” Vega sprinted to the main temple building, catching up to Florato.

“So, did you strangle the thing or…” Florato gestured to the scarecrow.

“Nah. Turns out this little gal is a Gello. A demon that-that brings infertility and death to kids. Ain’t that amazing?” Vega lifted the demon to the eyes of the actress. Florato raised her head slowly. After a moment, she decided to nod.

The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

“I don’t do that anymore. And, what are you two doing here? The ceremony isn't due until tomorrow.”

“You know, just following my friend because she decided we should do an act of charity before going shopping. Also she’s the only person that pays me a decent wage.” Florato sat down on the steps to the temple.

“What, do the mortals pay you a couple of silvers to wear a metal bikini?” The demon looked the actress up and down.

“...exactly…”

“Well, if you want to help the priest that's fine. Just remember, she doesn’t like outsiders much.” The demon crossed its arms, and lowered its head.

“So, she’s just a priest?”

“Exactly.” The actress pushed the door open, and the pair felt a gust of old air come out as they came in.

The entire building was really huge, almost cathedral-like. It was stacks upon stacks of birch planks, and felt like an airtight hole. The central pillars were of marble columns, decorated with a jade wind surrounding them. Before them was a wooden altar, bare compared to the pillars.

“Nice.” Kaliba tweeted.

“This is the Temple Aiato, of Saint Aiato. She’s actually the ancestor of the priest, but that’s not what you’re here for.” The demon remarked. Everyone turned to wood striking wood. A pair of feet wearing blocky sandals appeared from a hallway.

The priest here wore a long dress, and her hands were that of worn leather.

Women priests were a rarity, as most of the feminine side of the clergy were Vestals. Vestals were the youthful paddles of the religious boat of Recorianism, and the priests were the sails. But this priest was remarkably young, likely a teenager. Her hair was dyed a mixture of red and white, an old Iozian custom.

At her side, seemed to be another girl, around her age but twice as tall. Wearing the sleeveless robes of a vestal, she mirrored the priest, who was concealed aside than her head. Despite her age, the priestess looked to be trying to look taller than she was, always standing on her toes.

“Halt! What are you doing in the house of Recor?” She seemed to be trying out an accent, one that hadn’t been heard in this town for a century.

“Hello! Do ya need help?”

“...did the scarecrow just talk?” Her accent disappeared in favor of a high pitched kiddy voice.

“Yes, Vega is a scarecrow that talks. Now, priestess, do you need help?” Florato was ready to do whatever it took to get Vega back into the feast.

“Because it seems like your toes do.” The demon snidely spoke, her cruel demeanor returned.

“Shut up! Now, my flock, what is the matter?” Florato was not having this, she felt insulted by the priest’s voice. She was judging her blocking, her projection, everything. Why was the teenager acting this part so poorly, she thought.

“Just trying to get my friend back for the festival.” Florato called out, now approaching the teenage clergy member.

“Listen, my child-” The priestess didn’t even measure up to Florato’s shoulder.

“No, you shut up!” Florato held her hand against the mouth of the teenager. The vestal was stunned, but everyone including Vega didn’t care to stop her.

“Look here. If you’re going to act all old and wise, maybe take an acting class or two. Second! My friend has been waiting to help you with the ceremony, and she’s not allowed to join it! You are going to fix this! I swear to Recor if you don’t, I will shove my hand so far up your ass, I will make you a puppet!” The actress' fury echoed throughout the holy place.

“Ok? Now, how can we help you with the feast or whatever?” Florato said, as both of the clergy members sweated in their place.

“Right… follow us…” The long and spinning halls made their trip into the temple a calm one again. They eventually reached a hall covered in tablets, with engravings displaying the great deeds of the ancestors of the town and temple.

“This is the hall of achievements! Hunters, marshalls, and wisemen are shown their respect here.” The ancient accent returned.

“Ya know ya don’t have to prove anything to us. It’s okay if ya have a weird voice.” Vega chimed, breaking the priestess train of thought.

“I still can’t believe that thing is talking…” The priestess spoke, wiping a droplet of sweat off.

“It’s not a thing, she’s a person.” Florato corrected.

“To be honest, is she even all there? I half thought she was just a really big kid.” The demon remarked.

“Tai Pai, you will insult children again!” The vestal lectured, with the low tone a parent would to a child. Florato pointed at her ear, gesturing that she would continue to listen and for the priest to continue.

“But the problem is we have to choose an ancestor for the ceremony. And then I have to prepare a speech to the town.” The priestess spoke again in her high pitched voice.

“Oh, you’re not comfortable speaking in crowds?” Vega prodded, as she walked up to the clergy members. The priestess looked down, but the vestal nodded for her.

“Wait, then how did you get the job of being a priest?” Florato pressed.

“Hush! Like you know anything about God, blondie!” The priestess hissed, as the vestal beside her looked ashamed.

“Sorry, it’s just not something we like to talk about right now.” The vestal spoke in a merely educational manner, trying to maintain a sense of peace in the temple.

“But please, strangers. Follow me if you wish to help.” The vestal guided them to another room. The walls were a thin purple, and there were stoves and pot boiling. Beside them was a person laying on a bed.

She saw a middle aged woman, with a wooden arrow piercing her stomach. Bandaged and healing, but drinking medicine to maintain her punctured organs. Attending her was another vestal a few years older.

“It’s my mom. She got hit by a Tripolian’s arrow and she can’t perform it.” The priestess lay a hand on her, and the elder woman brushed the hair of the priestess.

“My daughter, who are these foreigners? Have you hired them as entertainers?” The mother's glassy orange eyes looked at the pair. There was a faint fog on them, as she went to reach for her spectacles.

“Don’t worry about them mom, stop moving. You might reopen the wound.” Florato blew a sigh and stepped towards the priestess.

“Alright. How about this, I help your mom and the nurse, and Vega gets back into the feast?” The priestess furrowed her brow, and turned back to the bed.

“No. It’s going to take more than that tribal.” Florato looked like she was about to explode, but Vega laid a hand on her.

“Hold on, priest lady. I know we’re different to ya, but imagine how we feel. We’re willing to help ya, your mom, and this whole temple. And what are ya doing?” The priestess was taken aback by the statement. She tried to summon an argument but her mouth closed before she could.

“Sure, I talk-talk funny. And Florato’s got that weird hair. But behind that, we’re all people just trying to be happy. I remember something the-the priest said once.” Suddenly, Vega’s projecting eyes returned, along with her soft cadence.

“Underneath a crime, a violation, of an outsider or enemy, is a person. Flawed, but absolutely deserving of dignity. It becomes easy to call them a ‘bad guy’. It makes them less than what they are. Oppressors, even priests like me, are people. Criminals are people who have done wrong.” Everyone in the room had been captivated. All except Florato, who recognized the same manner Vega was in yesterday.

“Hell, if we can acknowledge the presence of a dumb scarecrow that has a speech impediment, we have achieved greater godliness. And if we can empathize with that ghost, then we are capable of empathizing with everyone.” The priestess held her hands to her chest. She seemed to be listening. Not with her ears, but her soul.

“These people are yourselves too. Give them the chance that you deserve. Give them the chance of being anything beyond nothing.” Vega’s projecting eyes closed, and opened to the scribbled lenses that were normal.

“Believe that they matter, that they are there. And know them as equal.” Vega’s smile returned, along with the peace of the holy place.