Rumors spread through the ship like the plague spreading through a heavily populated area. All of it was based around the brief appearance of the paladins. For the commoners rarely saw these marvelous warriors, and to see one was an honor. It was only to be expected that these onlookers would spin tales of their heroes’ last great assignment. Even so, it all spread like wildfire. There were few places not yet touched by the rumors.
One such area was a quiet little room, on the far end of the ship. Like most places on this vessel, it was built to reflect both light and sound. That it did quite well too. The smooth, shiny walls and the rounded corners were more than what was necessary to complete its simple task. For this reason, the one who currently occupied the room adored it greatly.
It was a fair maiden, known as Sa-Ra’arra to many, who sat in that room. She was simply enjoying the stillness and awaiting the moment when a servant would burst through into her sanctuary. In the meantime, she was content to allow herself to be lulled into a complacent half-sleep. Her mind wandered, in this strange state, from events past to present. But no matter how far she roamed through her personal timeline, she was always drawn back to one point in time that had only occurred not too long before. Her coronation.
It still mystified her, that ceremony that had named her as the high priestess of her people. There was no particular reason why it had been of such magnificence to her still, perhaps for the fact that now she had power. Real power that she had never seen the likes of, except for in the use of those she now considered her peers. Of course, the little things were quite mystifying too, such as the glittering fabrics and the harmony of the chorus. But none of that compared to the authority and power gifted to her.
As the young priestess was revisiting every detail of her experience, the servant she’d been expecting slipped in. For a mere second, he paused, observing his mistress. The thought occurred to him he should perhaps wake her from this state. However, that thought was quickly banished from his mind. It seemed fitting to him that she should enjoy a moment longer of the peace he was going to tear so quickly from under her feet. So he took a seat on the floor next to his mistress's frame and watched her.
This servant, who was known as the stalwart Ci-Zhen’aan, examined his friend and leader with great reverence. His eyes drank in the familiar features of her slender face.
The reason why the people of the hierocracy adored her so greatly was clear to those who simply looked hard enough. Her appearance played a major factor in this. For she represented what the other prophets were not. The skin of her face was smooth, untouched by the weariness of existence. Like the beauty of the foam washing up upon the shores of the blessed homeworld, her skin did shine, a glow emitting from a place only one could assume was from the depths of her soul. Though dimmed now as her vision turned inwards upon her idle recollections, her almond shaped eyes glistened with the same light.
“Zhen, I didn’t see you there,” spoke a voice, startling Ci-Zhen’aan out of his trance, “when did you come in?”
It was his mistress speaking, as she rose from her own trance and awoke him from his. Upon exiting his own mind, Zhen immediately sat up straight. His fins and spines stood up at attention, displaying his eagerness to serve to his mistress. After all, it was not fitting for him to look shabby in front of his betters.
“Only a few minutes, milady,” Zhen replied, his head bowed in respect.
Sa-Ra’arra’s fins quirked up, her eyes sparkled with amusement and humor. “Milady, Zhen? Since when did you start calling me that?”
“I only thought it fitting; you are one of the High Ones now,” answered he.
“But I’m still your friend, Zhen,” she said.
It had been such a long time since Zhen had considered her just his friend. If it wasn’t already blatantly obvious, she was so much more to him. Ever since she donned the garb of the upper priesthood, their relationship had changed, in his view. Now she was above his level.
“Of course, mila- Arra,” Zhen said. There was a shy look in his eyes, one reminiscent of a scolded servant.
“So, I’m getting the sense that you didn’t just come to talk. What’s the matter Zhen?” asked Arra, as she preferred to be called.
A blank expression passed over Zhen’s face. Why had he come here? He could barely recall.
“Lady Serenity has requested your presence, Arra. She has something important to talk to you about,” he said, remembering faintly.
“She does? I wonder what it’s about this time.” Arra’s fins perked up once again. “Come on, Zhen, let’s go.”
He made no attempt to rise as she did. Zhen stayed sitting, immobile.
“I am afraid I cannot come. She wants to speak to you alone, without a Cir.” He answered. As soon as Arra’s fins had perked up, they now drooped.
“Oh, okay then,” Arra walks towards the door, her lengthy legs taking few strides to cross the room to get there. “Try not to have too much fun without me, Zhen.”
Gracefully, as is to be expected on one such as she, Arra exited the room, but not before casting one last, mischievous glance at Zhen.
