Thread: to save the niamh

She was different, she had known that moment she had woken up on top of a stone slab with some old man helping her to her feet. Something was different, what memories she had were simple, but she knew how to do... things . Like understand the man who kept calling her Shula. Was that her name? She pondered this as she slowly was pulled to her feet. The stone beneath her was warm, this was important for some reason. She knew this. Why did she know this but not her own name? Calmly she followed the man, whose name Mumin was provided for her after some time, to a different room. Whoever occupied this room must have been wealthy those green eyes analyzed as she was brought into the center of the room. 'Stay' she had been told. What could she have done? She had no idea where in the Temporamor she was. Wait, was that where she was? Temporamor? Those green eyes moved across the room until she spotted a map. It covered the entire world that this was. Her fingers lightly touched the paper, only to find it wasn't paper but rather the skin of an animal of sorts. The ink permanently branded into it, though her fingers seemed to follow a path as the scoured across the map. The trail seemed to span across the entire map but homed on a corner of the map. The Temple of Rafa. Was there something significant about it? She tucked that bit of information into the back of her brain as the man returned with clothes. The clothes themselves were of some sort of light weight material, red in color. It was then as she looked up from the fabric that she noticed the full length reflection of herself on another wall. Shula herself was not extremely tall, as she had to look up at Mumin. However in the light of this room she saw her features. The high cheek bones, the sun-kissed skin though far Mumin's own skin color the black hair that had odd red highlights through out her hair. How odd. She took the clothes from Mumin's clutches and shook them out carefully. Three pieces of fabric fell into her arms, and some how she knew how the clothes worked. The scarlet underskirt was the first to be placed on her waist. The drawstring was drawn tightly, her hand reaching for the matching the red blouse. It was form fitting, designed perhaps for her in mind. Who knows? Probably Mumin did but he was oddly patient with her, with his back turned as she dressed. Shrugging she grabbed the much longer fabric - wrapping and pleating till the fabric until the remainder hung over shoulder. Her feet moved across the floor, hand reaching to gently shake the Head Priest. Why are you doing this for me? She asked carefully, for who she was she was rather soft-spoken though to the point. Mumin eyed his new charge and simply smile, In time, my child, you will understand your destiny. The simplest phrase put Shula into another thought full state. Though the Priest offered her shoes she declined, rather used to the feeling of the stone beneath her feet. The Temple, which she gathered from the uncanny knowledge she was slowly gaining through each moment she had awoken, was one of the larger ones in Temporamor. However it was not as colorful as some of the more expressive Temples to the south. However there was significant about this temple. She put her finger to her lip in a thoughtful gesture, her gaze only raising at the sound of a male voice. Alixsu's glare did not go unnoticed by Shula as those green eyes met his. She could tell he was unhappy with the newest arrangement let alone being completely clueless as to what sort of Pilgrimage they were going on. What harm will it do you to take me along your journey, Alixsu? She said carefully. Methodical and wise beyond her years. Years being really determined by the fact she was created, not born. Made, but not given a lifeline to fulfill a long happy life. Yet when she first met him she knew that this needed to happen. I may be of some help. She said carefully though Mumin raised his hand. This is not up for discussion, Alixsu, you will take Shula with you. You will need each other in the times to come. The man gave one of his creepy, knowing smiles. A smile which also gave him to be the true believer of the Firebird. The mark of the firebird was one given to so few in their time. The chosen ones, ones who would be part to facilitate a prophecy that had been handed down for generations when the beginning and the end would meet and be reborn again. But it would take a lot to defend the Flame of the world from going up in smoke this time.