(121-03-23) The Silver Lady Seeks Answers
The Silver Lady Seeks Answers
Summary: Cerys attends the Starry Sept hoping for some inner peace.
Date: 23 March 2014
Related: None

Starry Sept

The Starry Sept is the seat of the Faith of the Seven. The High Septon resides here, as do any number of clergy who study here or attend him and the faithful. Seven domes and seven towers make up the structure, all of them richly decorated with seven-pointed stars, carved or inlaid or painted, or in mosaics of tiles.

The largest dome, the worship area, is a heptagon like all the others, but much wider. The seven-pointed star is inlaid into the white marble floor in massive slices of highly polished semi-precious stones: amethyst and rosy quartz, jade and lapis, onyx, cat-eye and garnet. The soaring domed roof is painted a deep blue with glittering sparkles of mica mixed in, and hundreds of seven-pointed stars picked out in gold and silver leaf.

Each of the seven walls holds a statue, larger than life, of one of the gods. The Father, The Mother, The Warrior, The Maiden, The Smith, The Crone, The Stranger. They are painted wood, beautifully and realistically carved by artists of great skill. Their gowns and robes are leafed in gold and set with jewels, and their eyes are alabaster and jet, with irises of sapphire or emerald or deep brown citrine. The exception is The Stranger. His or her statue is plain, almost stylized, the face hooded and the robes painted glossy black with minute flecks of black dragonglass that make it glitter very faintly, like the most distant of stars.

There is an ornately carved and inlaid altar before each statue, for the faithful to pray, and light their candles.

It's but early morning in Old Town, the cool summer air fresh and pleasant though the sun has yet to show itself overhead. The large sanctum of the Starry Sept is already host to a few devout worshipers, leaving offerings and prayers at the altars of the Father, the Mother, the Smith, or perhaps the Maiden. One lone figure is bent in worship before the altar of the Crone, long waves of curly hair falling over a lush scarlet robe woven with grey. It is finery fit for any noble, but when she rises, the chain she wears around her throat marks her as a member of the clerical ranks. She pauses to speak in low tones to a worshiper at the nearby altar of the Warrior, her devout gaze flitting amongst the various folk gathered here this early morning.

The young Targeryen princess walks slowly inside the Sept. She is wearing one of these perfectly white gowns, which is embroidered with the silver threads. She keeps her hands politely clasped in front of her. The tress silver curls blur with her gown and pale skins. All this dazzling silver and white light just betrays, who she is. Two guards are following behind her together with the plump handmaiden. Also, two servants are carrying a huge chest.

The dazzling entrance of what is clearly an esteemed visitor to the sept draws Leire's attention immediately, and so she crosses the floor of the temple to meet the Targaryen princess. "Good morning," she says pleasantly, her tone warm but low to avoid disrupting the silent prayers of those at the altars of the Seven. "My name is Leire, and I am sworn to service to the Seven." She absently touches the seven-pointed star pendant worn at the hollow of her throat, looking between each of the retainers accompanying the young Dragon to extend her welcome to them, too.

Cerys' smile grows more widely, when the Septa comes closer. The girl gently takes the fabric of her skirt and raises it slightly just to offer polite curtsy. She is like that, simple and very kind young girl, not the one who would haughtily demonstrate her title, "Septa Leire, a pleasure to meet you. I am lady Cerys Targeryen. I came here as usually to express my love for the Seven." The girl carries her hands closer to her waist and takes the small pocket full of coins, "For all the needs to strengthen the Seven in our world. I usually give it to another Septa. A bit more older one, Septa Leire." And she extends the pocket to the woman. Then she gestures towards the two servants, "I looked over my dresses and fabrics. It looks like I have many clothes I do not use anymore. I believe you will give it to orphans. The fabrics and clothes are not too posh to put a child into danger. Criminals will not get too much attention to these clothes." The girl smiles widely, "Where they should carry the chest?"

"The generosity of House Targaryen proves once more to be without bounds," Leire replies, with reverent appreciation. To the attendants charged with transport of the chest, she turns to indicate an archway marked by columns leading to the inner sanctum of the sept as being a good place for them to deposit the donations. "I am sure even your plainest robes will be the finest some girls shall ever have hoped to covet. The recipients of your charity will know whose name to add to their prayers." The faithful milling around within earshot take notice of the Targaryen princess and her generous offerings to the Seven. To discourage the gawking of the smallfolk, Leire lowers her voice once more to afford a more private audience to the princess. "Which of the Seven shall we pray to today, Princess?"

The girl lowers her voice too to speak in a whisper, "I would love to pray that the Seven would give strength to my brother ser Daevon Targeryen, that they would keep my brother ser Aevander Targeryen in the same path, where he is and that the Seven would help for my sister lady Visenya Targeryen to see the light and find the right path." The girl sighs and lowers her gaze too becoming quiet for a moment. "So many to ask and so little to give…"

Leire takes up a place alongside Cerys, a gentle, fleeting touch to her elbow to steer her towards one of the altars of the Seven. "And so it is when we hold so many dear to us. For your brothers, let us pray to the Father for the courage of their convictions." The two move toward the altar of the Father, and before his decadently painted statue, Leire turns to Cerys and places a hand to her brow, murmuring, "Father Above, smile upon your Targaryen sons in the days to come, that they may find in themselves a piece of your strength and courage." Lifting her gaze towards the starry sept overhead, Leire's lips continue to move but her prayer is no longer audible. Her eyes shine with fierce and fervent conviction, as though she were offering these words on behalf of her own blood brothers.

Cerys walks together with the Septa near the Father and then she closes her eyes at the touch of her brow. The girl's lips start moving. She prays so honestly, that even a tear shows up and ripples across her cheek just to fall down on her chest. She opens her one eye just for a second to peek at The Father, but the she closes her eye one more time and finishes her prayer.

When Leire's gaze returns to the princess, it is warm and indulgent, as a father might look upon a favorite daughter. Before parting from the altar, Leire bows her head to the paternal image, touching the seven-pointed star worn at her neck. When she senses that Cerys has completed her own prayer, Leire guides her across to another altar, albeit one with a slightly less benevolent image. "For your sister, I think we must ask the Crone to intercede." When the two women are at the feet of the wizened icon, Leire takes a small bowl from the altar's ledge and cups it in her palm. Dipping her thumb within, she turns to Cerys and murmurs, "Close your eyes," marking her eyelids one after the other with the pungent oil.

The young Targeryen follows the Septa as the daughter follows her mother. She even manages to get that smile back on her lips. This woman, she met just first time, brings some kind of piece into the girl's heart until they approach Crone. The mentioning of Visenya brings fear and sadness into the silver eyes of Cerys. The girl even trembles and it takes a few deep inhales, before she manages to defeat her fear of her evil sister. After all, she came here to ask that the Seven would help Visenya to find the right path again. Cerys closes her eyes and waits, whispering proper words quietly.

Leire anoints her own lips with a single vertical swipe of her thumb, then replaces the bowl on the altar's ledge. "Revered Crone, hear our prayer. We invoke your venerated vision in the name of our sister, Visenya Targaryen. Lift your lantern and illuminate for her the righteous path, that she may walk out of darkness and into enlightenment. She stands at a fork in the road. May it be your compass that guides her and may she know a sliver of your sagacity at this most needful time." At some point during the prayer, Leire takes Cerys' hands in hers, as if the gravity of this particular prayer needs the reinforcement of their contact.

Cerys squeezes the hand of the Septa, trying to get strength from that woman. The girl peeks at the Crone briefly, but then lowers her gaze again and finishes the prayer. When all this is finished, Cerys leans a bit closer to the Septa and whispers, "I have a few more questions, I would like to consult with you, if possible. More privately."

When Leire's eyes flutter open at the conclusion of the prayer, they are fleetingly steely and sharp, with none of the adoration exhibited at the conclusion of the Father's prayer. Letting go of the princess's hands, the Septa tilts her head toward Cerys to hear her whisper, and then nods accommodatingly. "Of course," she replies, her resting expression once again warm and inviting. She guides the princess over to a quiet alcove off of the main sept, away from the altars which have now begun to attract more worshipers. Within the alcove are a pair of marble benches, and the Septa takes one of them, gesturing for Cerys to claim the other. Her attendants can wait out of earshot while the princess receives private counsel.

The girl follows Septa Leire and takes the offered seat. She places her hands on her lap mannerly and chews on her lip for awhile. She looks somewhere at the point in the wall and whispers, "I am sure, that all we will talk will remain between us. It is quite uncomfortable theme." Cerys sighs and looks back at Septa Leire, "I would like to speak about my uncle. He recently came back. Have you heard about him?"

For proof, Leire touches the seven-pointed star pendant that rests at the hollow of her throat, closing her palm over it briefly. "I swear upon the Seven that I shall hold our conference in the utmost of confidence." Folding her own hands in her lap, Leire offers no indication of what, if anything, she might know of Maelys Targaryen, and says, "I'd rather hear what you'd like to say about him."

Cerys sighs and starts whispering, while her fingers nervously are playing with the fabric of her skirts, "Well… First of all, I would like to say, that I do not believe that there are bad people. Nobody is born bad. Just… some people are lead by their environment into the darker paths, usually these people are lonely and scared and they need guidance. I fear, that my uncle is one of them. My brother informed me, that our uncle brought many slaves from his… travel, if we can call it like that. I can't even think, that slaves and I will be living under the same roof. I don't think that anyone should be slave, no matter where he born. But also, I am just the little girl, youngest in my family. I do not have power to change people and their desires like the one… to have slaves. I was thinking… Maybe we could do something to give freedom for these people?"

Leire listens to all of this with a neutral expression, her lips pursing with thought. "I see," she murmurs at the end, when Cerys poses a question to her directly. "Does your uncle keep the Seven?" she asks, answering a question with a question.

"I am not sure. I was still really little, just a baby, if I was in our world at all. I just hear rumors, that he did something wrong and had to leave our lands, if I am right, but I fear, I might be wrong. I plan meeting him today and speak with him. I would like to know before that, if there is something, what we could do or maybe… what he should do?"

"I see," Leire echoes once again, her gaze going distant, though it remains settled on Cerys's face, as if seeing beyond it. Though her expression remains serene, her hands, folded in her lap, are tense, her knuckles white. "Would that I had the wisdom of the Crone to impart upon you," she says, her faraway look turning into one of sharp attention. "Perhaps you might counsel your uncle to keep the faith, as you have. Perhaps it would give you both some peace. The Seven are no strangers to the travails of men, and it is for the Father Above to judge, not his mortal servants. If he would return to the fold now that he is returned to our lands, he would be welcome here."

Cerys nods, "I will speak with my uncle and will try to lead him here, especially to speak with you, Septa Leire. Are you newly appointed here, if I may ask? Somehow, I never saw you here, but your words and even presence brings some kind of piece to my heart. I am really happy, that I found you here. It looks like the Seven lead me here today, now, just to meet you. If it is possible, I would be happy if I could spend more time in your presence and be lighted by your wisdom, be guided by your wise words," The girl beams widely and bows her head.

Leire smiles fondly at the young Targaryen, and confides in her, "I grew up in service, but I am often called to the field to attend to crises of faith and to spread the blessings of the Seven. I have recently returned to Oldtown to serve on the council of the High Septon, and so I shall be making a more permanent residence here. I would enjoy very much if you would seek me out here. It is a pleasure for me to appeal to the Seven on behalf of such a devout subject, the more so to hear that you have found peace in our prayer today."

"I am pleased to hear that, Septa Leire." Cerys stands up and curtsies, "I do hope that you will settle here, even if that might sound selfish," The girl chuckles, "Thank you for your time and I am sure, that we will meet soon," Cerys curtsies again and then leaves.

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