The Temple of Artemis

[Artorius]

Artorius strode reluctantly down the path leading to the great marble building, half of him wanting to turn and run in the other direction. No reason that this shouldn't work--after all, Greek gods were just Roman gods with different names.

His mind was a constant string of thoughts, some encouraging his mission, others arguing against it. All in all, he did not want to be here. But he had been told by a wiseman to come, so it was worth a try. His choice had been between Ares and Artemis, neither seeming like they would be of much help with his issues. After all, I am no longer in battle and I've never been in much favor of the hunt.

In the end, he had chosen Artemis, thinking her a better choice than a war god. Now he was in the garden at her temple, forcing his feet in the direction of the glistening building. Eventually, after pausing to examine a few bushes and watch a few passerby, he stood at the stairs, and slowly began to climb. Soon he stood looking into the single room, a hall that stretched far and ended with a massive statue of the goddess. A stone altar and kneeling place stood before her, and he went and knelt, not perfectly sure of what to do next. Awkwardly, he began to pray.

Dear goddess, I come here with little understanding of you or your fellows. He kept his voice soft, slightly embarassed and not wanting to share his thoughts. He was unsure if the few people in the building could overhear him, but he didn't want to take the chance. He was a bit worried that his words might echo, and so he lowered his voice even more so that he was barely audible. I ask simply that you protect my family in Rome, and offer them whatever guidance you can. And also Evelyn, the other survivor of the rebel force, wherever she may be. And if you feel like doing something horrid to the filthy rats that are in power of my home city, then that would be fine with me.

Artorius stood slowly as if expecting a lightning display, then frowned uncertainly and turned to leave.

[Georgios]

<sub>Ramla entered the temple, her raven black hair let down for the occasion, and falling in an ebony curtain down her back. Her head was bowed in respect, and she kept her fierce green eyes downcast. Morning prayer was a hard tradition to let go of, even so far from home. However, he day-to-day routine had changed, so now she made it to the temples perhaps once a month. And she tried hard to make those occasions as meaningful as possible.

True, she did not worship Greek gods, and when at home, she would pray to Ra on the rooftop, facing the rising sun. But in Greece, it was best to do as the Grecians did. In Greece, they went to temple.

However, the last thing Ramla wanted to do was offend the gods; Egyptian, Greek, or otherwise. And so, once a month, she would go the the temple of Artemis and pray to her patron God, Ra. She would always bring an offering to Artemis, in exchange for the use of her temple. As far as Ramla could see, this was the only way to reach Ra here, and if she needed to buy the loyalty of a Greek patron, so be it.

Ramla knelt on the ground and faced east, touching her forehead to the cold stone. She knew how different she appeared today, especially. With her hair down, pulled out of her eyes by a small cloth strip, and her eyes painted black as they were; she appeared more Egyptian then ever. This was not accidental; she always strengthened her ties to her homeland before addressing her Creator. And not only in her looks; the sheer way she delivered her prayers marked her as an outsider.

When she did speak, it was very softly, the repeated phrases whispered in Egyptian. The prayers had been memorized since childhood, and brought back memories of home with the pains of missing her family.

My lord Ra of the sun, I thank you for this day. I thank the Creator for the rising of the sun and pray that he shines upon my family and my home.</sub>

[/i]

She again touched her forehead to the stone, and stood. She rose to the large monument of Artemis the Goddess, and bowed her head respectfully. This God, she addressed in Greek, broken and annunciated as it was.

Goddess Artemis, I thank you farr the uze of your taympal and pray that you arre not offended by my prayers to me own God. I leaf you thees offering of grattytude.

At the base of the statue, Ramla laid a gold necklace she had...picked up...on her journey through the markets last week. She had been sorely tempted to sell it, to buy a decent meal, until she remembered how long it had been since she had last addressed her God. She bowed her head again and prepared to leave, as the sun was rising higher in the sky now, and with any luck she could still make it to the markets in time to lift something to eat.
[/sub][/center]

[Artorius]

Artorius found himself slightly disgruntled, though he was unsure why. After all, it's not like he expected some kind of sign to let him know his prayers had been heard. Well maybe just a little one, he grumbled aloud. He ran calloused fingers through his messy copper hair, and took one last glance in the direction of the statue, when something entirely different caught his eye.

A woman was praying in the temple, although she seemed very out of place with the other worshippers. For one thing, she wasn't even Greek. Artorius eyed her somewhat suspiciously, wondering what an Egyptian woman was doing in the temple of a Greel goddess. Considering how she was praying, Artorius doubted very much that she was worshipping Artemis. The woman was dark, with ebony hair and deep skin. He took a mental note of the make-up around her eyes and how she spoke with a heavy accent when she was not speaking Egyptian. Artorius walked slowly in her direction and waited until she was done speaking, hearing enough to realize that she was indeed not praying to Artemis.

Forgive me, he said, his voice smooth and polite, I do not mean to offend... but may I ask what a woman such as yourself is doing in a temple such as this? He cocked his head slightly, one light copper brow raised slightly.

[Ramla]

<sub>Ramla had turned away from the statue of the Goddess, having placed her offering at the alter and finished her prayers. Her long charcoal hair was heavy on the back of her neck, and she was eager to be free of the temple so she could wrap it again. Her prayers having been completed, she saw no further reason for staying here, and planned on making an exit as soon as possible.

She turned away from the sculpted figure as was making her way to the door when she was interrupted. I do not mean to offend... but may I ask what a woman such as yourself is doing in a temple such as this?

Ramla halted in her tracks. Typically, she would have shot back some cold response to this man, tired and frustrated at the curiosity she seemed to arouse in some people. However, she was in a good mood from having addressed her God, and it was a bad idea to pick a fight in the house of Gods. Besides...he asked politely enough.

Ramla inclined her head to him, green eyes surveying him rather suspiciously. I coom to pray to my God, Ra. En Egypt, we pray every morning, oon the roofs. Here, I haff no roof and if I did, these Greek roofs are not for praying. So I coom to Temple, that es made to speak to Gods. I pray to Ra, and then I offer fine things to the Greek God who's temple I haff used.

Ramla paused, scrutinizing the man closer. Her looked far more Grecian than she did, his coloring fair like the Greeks, his voice smooth. He prayed as all the others did. He dressed as the others did. Yet Ramla suspected that he was not from Greece, anymore than she was. This time, when she spoke, her voice was softer, though the accent still rolled the foreign words.

You ask what I am doing en place like thees, but you? You arre not Greek, no more than I, if I am right? Why you pray to Greek Gods?


ooc: eck. sucky post. sorry. and I just realized I accidentally posted with Georgios up there, forgot to switch accounts. sorry about that!</sub>

[Dianthe]

Artorius couldn't help grinning. And I thought that I fit in so well. No, I'm not Greek; I'm Roman. My gods are the same as theirs, just with different names. Sort of ridiculous, really. I figured it wouldn't hurt to address them hear. In all honesty, my faith is weakened. But considering my current situation, I thought I should seek guidance. He turned and frowned again at the statue, rubbing the back of his neck wearily. I haven't done this much, so I'm not exactly sure what to expect. I suppose I sort of hoped for something instant to let me know they got the message.

Looking away from the statue, Artorius focused his intention instead on the woman before him. He immediately placed her as Egyptian, thanks to the make-up, hair, and skin tone. He hadn't missed the change in her voice, and assumed she felt the same thing as him: relief at finding another foreigner. He found Greek people to be interesting, but they still weren't his people. He felt the familiar rush acquainted with being home-sick, and smiled weakly at the woman. I don't suppose you'd like to take a walk in the garden? Artorius would never say that he was lonely, but he did enjoy company at some times more than others. And right now, he was really enjoying the company.


OOC: Eh, mine's worse. And no worries, I figured out the account thing easily enough. I've done it plenty of times before.

[Ramla]

<sub>Ramla stood beside the man, her posture held rigid as always, chin tilted upward slightly. Her simple white robes were the same as all the others wore; yet she was very aware of just how different she looked. Her skin was a deep bronze, her hair raven black, falling in a silken curtain down almost to her waist. Her large, intensely green eyes were outlined in thick black coal, and flashed with a stubborn, proud passion that many of the Greeks lacked.

Her foreign looks were often something she tried to tone down, though on temple days she made no attempt to hide her heritage. Besides this man here; she knew what an outsider she must appear, and wasn't sure how she felt about that. When she spoke again, her voice had lost its sharp edge, and was a bit softer, a bit less cold.

You do feet en well, weeth the Greeks. You look like them; talk like them; you pray like them. But you haff the airr off an outsider. You feet en well here; but you will naver be at home, en such a differant country, no more than I.

She paused, thinking about his comments about the Gods being the same here as in his homeland. How she wished she knew of a way to address Ra in a style she knew would honor him. The morning roof-top prayers at home had always been a part of life; and the temple version she now performed lacked much of the culture. Eef your Gods arre the same, why es your beleifing so weak? Haff faith en your Gods, whichefar their callings; they hearr you pray and will look aftar their devoted.

The words were spoken with such conviction, such mindless, headstrong belief that they seemed to erase any possible argument. Throughout her entire life, Ramla had worshiped religiously and truly; she understood that Ra would always care for those who believed wholeheartedly. And if he did not; he had his reasons. Who was a lowly Egyptian farm girl to question divine will?

She turned back to the man ahead of her. He was quite striking; and not simply for his looks; though those weren't bad either. He was tall and heavily muscled, long and lean from what was obviously hard work. He had fair complexion similar to that of the Greeks; yet the air about him was that of a foreigner; maybe not quite so strong as Ramla's; but there, nonetheless. And perhaps it was this connection that made Ramla pause. Perhaps it was finding someone else; at long last; who was in a similar position as herself; in a strange land. In anycase, after a long moment of silence, the woman inclined her head slightly, and spoke with great care. Yess, I think that might be nisce. I well fallow you?</sub>