Lance wasn't entirely sure what he'd hoped or expected to find in Mizu's eyes. Honestly, he wasn't entirely sure what he did find in them. Maybe it was his own self-consciousness, crashing over him like a wave and blinding him, for a moment. All he could think about was what others saw in him. But, wasn't that selfish? Not only selfish--wasn't it the opposite of humble, to think only of his own pride?
Lance closed his eyes in a long blink, and when he opened them again, he saw softness in Mizu's eyes--some peace, and some sorrow. He offered her a nod, glad that he'd finally seen her, and placed a hand on his chest before returning his gaze to the priestess. He exhaled deeply then--had he been holding his breath?--and his throat bobbed in the process, a fresh well of tears blurring his vision and then streaming down his face even as a steadfast smile continued to brighten his expression.
"Please, undress," the priestess said, and for a brief moment, Lance felt confused. Obviously, he had known that step was coming, but had they skipped something? He felt awkward as he made sense of the situation--that he'd just declared himself his own offering. His cheeks grew hot, wanting to clarify, somehow. Surely that wasn't what he'd meant to say. Wasn't that, again, rather the opposite of humility? Lance could feel a panic rising, an echoing scrape of anxiety in his stomach. Damn it, this was going to be a rough ride. But, he supposed that was to be expected. He clenched his fist over his chest and closed his eyes, taking in and releasing a deep breath. He potently felt all of the many gazes that landed on him, witnessing him, and he still felt in free-fall, desperate to grab on to a familiar performance to show them. He took in and released yet another deep breath, and began to subtly puff and relax his chest, a rhythm forming. It was tempting to at least find his footing in the familiarity of memory, and he felt young then, in awe of ceremonial ecstacy and yearning to participate.
All at once a boost of confidence compelled him to open his eyes and look out at the crowd. Something clicked into place--that he was on the other side of whatever divide he had felt as a child; that he was a leader now who could invite others in. His eyes beheld the gathered troops with warmth and adoration, searching for a spark of inspiration within them, within himself, or maybe in the air around them. How did he want to call them all in?
Finally, Lance cocked his head back and bellowed out another sing-song, wailing cry.
"Hoo-weyy-yeyy-yah!"
This sound was his own, more song to it than the first, and with a quality like a wolf howling at the moon. He spread his arms at an angle to each side, fingers curling upward as though to beckon, though he had no idea if anyone would truly understand. What exactly was he asking for? He wasn't sure that he wanted an echo, but it was difficult to articulate what else it was that he hoped to invite.
To his delight and utter spurprise, another cry did answer.
"Hoo-woah-ohh-ohh-ah!"
The croon of it was smooth and full-bodied, adding more melody and--dare Lance say--dance to the soundscape exchange. Lance flashed an ecstatic grin in the direction the cry had come from, absolutely floored to meet Chris' eyes. They still held some fashion of a glare, but there was a fresh openness that filled Lance with glee, even or especially as both of their cheeks glistened with tears.
"Ah-heyy-yaa-oh!"
Another cry came from within the circle, sparkling and ecstatic as Chloe howled out her own song, sharing a giddy smile with Lance when he looked her direction. Lance hardley knew what to do with the joy that he felt, and he all but hurled himself into the air, releasing energy with a wide, stomping twirl and landing in a crouch, his hands beating down with open palms against the ground.
"Ra-ahh-ah!"
He crooned himself again, almost a growl, before standing back up and finally pulling his shirt over his head, ready to move on to whatever the next phase was of this emerging ecstatic process. He spread his arms wide again, fingers once again beckoning, hoping to invite yet more cries as he stepped over to the pile of discarded clothing and offered his shirt to its keeping.
Part 1 (Start Reading Here)
Re: Part 1 (Start Reading Here)
Ramanujan had spent the day feeling significantly more anxious and unsettled than usual. His conversation with Evan had gone well overall, even if it had been a bit awkward, but Ramanujan felt a little queasy about it, though. He tried to meditate, venturing across the river toward the ruins of Dehaljadrun's temple, but that felt like a space that wasn't for him anymore. He left just as soon as he had sat down.
He wandered the forests for a while, finally finding a clearing touched by the sun. He meditated for a while in its warmth, cradling within him the light that Captain Fujiwara--no, Horu--had offered him. He turned it over and over in his mind, feeling very much that he might be able to use some of the magic, if he could only learn how. Perhaps Horu would be able to guide him.
He spent several hours in the clearing, meditating and pacing, before he headed back to camp. He got something to eat and ran a few drills, trying to work through the excess energy. He contemplated not going to the ceremony to see the other volunteers off at all, but that would be cowardly. If Ramanujan knew anything about Horu, he knew she wouldn't appreciate cowardice.
So, he watched from a distance while the volunteers gathered to walk to the ceremony, standing with the crowd gathered around them. Seeing Novelty carrying a bundle of flowers and Philip with a bouquet of flowers, Ramanujan felt rather empty handed. At least, until he remembered the warmth in his stomach. Perhaps he should give Yukiko the ceremonial wine he still had.
As they all started marching, Ramanujan looked for Yukiko, walking alongside the other captains. She looked small and short in comparison, and Ramanujan's faith wavered momentarily, but he remembered how that warm breeze felt when she sent it out in all directions, and he regathered himself. He should not doubt her.
Ramanujan listened attentively to the commander's opening speech, grateful that she gave weight and value to all the griefs they had experienced. He couldn't deny that her speech was rallying, even if he knew it was a ploy to make them all feel better. She was doing good work--no one could really say otherwise.
When Trevor and Captain Kade began their dance with the ropes, Ramanujan found himself impressed. There was art and poetry to it that Ramanujan had never considered. Ramanujan looked toward Captain Fujiwara, just a stone's throw away, and wondered if she thought the same.
Every time the priestess asked for another volunteer to come forward, Ramanujan felt a tug in his chest. Several times, he almost took a step forward. At each urge, however, he grounded himself in the warmth in his stomach and in his promise to Horu. He really did belong with her, even if the goddess of dreams still had sway over him.
When Nathan approached the priestess and then soon after he looked around for someone to read something he had written. Ramanujan saw Captain Fujiwara shake her head when Nathan approached her, and Ramanujan's chest ached at the sight. It was remarkable, Horu's ability to demure to another goddess, at least tonight, and Ramanujan respected it deeply. He looked frequently at Captain Fujiwara, trying to offer her a nod or some other gesture of encouragement. It was difficult to manage at a distance. He wished he could stand beside her, maybe even rub her back. This must be difficult for her.
Ramanujan chanted Nathan's poem along with the others, offering each line to the warmth within him. In this small way, he could bolster Horu, he thought.
He felt surprised at Gavin's offering and a bit embarrassed. He turned his gaze away once he realized what he was looking at, just as he had with Chloe, but then he turned back, giving the man some respect. It took Ramanujan a moment, but he understood what Gavin was offering--and what he wanted from--the goddess.
The pause after the priestess called for the next volunteer was the longest, and it pulled at Ramanujan. He did take a step forward before he saw Lance's arm shoot up into the air and heard him utter his strange outcry. A cool breeze rippled out from where Lance stood. It was subtle, but especially after witnessing what Horu had done earlier in the day, Ramanujan did not miss it. It felt foreign to him, though, not like Dehaljadrun or Horu in nature. Just what had Lance called to, and why?
Ramanujan could not hear what the priestess said to Lance, but he seemed very affected by it. The soldier threw his head back and let out another unfamiliar sound, though this one did not come with an accompanying breeze and felt even less familiar. It felt almost animal in nature.
"Hoo-weyy-yeyy-yah!"
Then another sound, this one coming from one of the waiting volunteers yet to cross into the circle--Chris.
"Hoo-woah-ohh-ohh-ah!"
Then another as Chloe joined in.
"Ah-heyy-yaa-oh!"
Lance again, his latest one guttural and growling, "Ra-ahh-ah!" And with that, he pulled his shirt dramatically over his head. Afterward, he signaled to the crowd, calling for more.
Novelty joined in, "Ooo-rryy-aahh-kkaa!" raising one hand to the sky.
And, feeling like this was one thing he could offer the volunteers and the goddess Dehaljadrun in exchange for his absence, Ramanujan, too, joined in, "kree-kkaahh-deyy-orh-oh," waving his own hands up into the air like Lance to signal the desire for a chorus.
((OOC: I'm imagining that quite a few people in the army are giving their own cries after this point.))
He wandered the forests for a while, finally finding a clearing touched by the sun. He meditated for a while in its warmth, cradling within him the light that Captain Fujiwara--no, Horu--had offered him. He turned it over and over in his mind, feeling very much that he might be able to use some of the magic, if he could only learn how. Perhaps Horu would be able to guide him.
He spent several hours in the clearing, meditating and pacing, before he headed back to camp. He got something to eat and ran a few drills, trying to work through the excess energy. He contemplated not going to the ceremony to see the other volunteers off at all, but that would be cowardly. If Ramanujan knew anything about Horu, he knew she wouldn't appreciate cowardice.
So, he watched from a distance while the volunteers gathered to walk to the ceremony, standing with the crowd gathered around them. Seeing Novelty carrying a bundle of flowers and Philip with a bouquet of flowers, Ramanujan felt rather empty handed. At least, until he remembered the warmth in his stomach. Perhaps he should give Yukiko the ceremonial wine he still had.
As they all started marching, Ramanujan looked for Yukiko, walking alongside the other captains. She looked small and short in comparison, and Ramanujan's faith wavered momentarily, but he remembered how that warm breeze felt when she sent it out in all directions, and he regathered himself. He should not doubt her.
Ramanujan listened attentively to the commander's opening speech, grateful that she gave weight and value to all the griefs they had experienced. He couldn't deny that her speech was rallying, even if he knew it was a ploy to make them all feel better. She was doing good work--no one could really say otherwise.
When Trevor and Captain Kade began their dance with the ropes, Ramanujan found himself impressed. There was art and poetry to it that Ramanujan had never considered. Ramanujan looked toward Captain Fujiwara, just a stone's throw away, and wondered if she thought the same.
Every time the priestess asked for another volunteer to come forward, Ramanujan felt a tug in his chest. Several times, he almost took a step forward. At each urge, however, he grounded himself in the warmth in his stomach and in his promise to Horu. He really did belong with her, even if the goddess of dreams still had sway over him.
When Nathan approached the priestess and then soon after he looked around for someone to read something he had written. Ramanujan saw Captain Fujiwara shake her head when Nathan approached her, and Ramanujan's chest ached at the sight. It was remarkable, Horu's ability to demure to another goddess, at least tonight, and Ramanujan respected it deeply. He looked frequently at Captain Fujiwara, trying to offer her a nod or some other gesture of encouragement. It was difficult to manage at a distance. He wished he could stand beside her, maybe even rub her back. This must be difficult for her.
Ramanujan chanted Nathan's poem along with the others, offering each line to the warmth within him. In this small way, he could bolster Horu, he thought.
He felt surprised at Gavin's offering and a bit embarrassed. He turned his gaze away once he realized what he was looking at, just as he had with Chloe, but then he turned back, giving the man some respect. It took Ramanujan a moment, but he understood what Gavin was offering--and what he wanted from--the goddess.
The pause after the priestess called for the next volunteer was the longest, and it pulled at Ramanujan. He did take a step forward before he saw Lance's arm shoot up into the air and heard him utter his strange outcry. A cool breeze rippled out from where Lance stood. It was subtle, but especially after witnessing what Horu had done earlier in the day, Ramanujan did not miss it. It felt foreign to him, though, not like Dehaljadrun or Horu in nature. Just what had Lance called to, and why?
Ramanujan could not hear what the priestess said to Lance, but he seemed very affected by it. The soldier threw his head back and let out another unfamiliar sound, though this one did not come with an accompanying breeze and felt even less familiar. It felt almost animal in nature.
"Hoo-weyy-yeyy-yah!"
Then another sound, this one coming from one of the waiting volunteers yet to cross into the circle--Chris.
"Hoo-woah-ohh-ohh-ah!"
Then another as Chloe joined in.
"Ah-heyy-yaa-oh!"
Lance again, his latest one guttural and growling, "Ra-ahh-ah!" And with that, he pulled his shirt dramatically over his head. Afterward, he signaled to the crowd, calling for more.
Novelty joined in, "Ooo-rryy-aahh-kkaa!" raising one hand to the sky.
And, feeling like this was one thing he could offer the volunteers and the goddess Dehaljadrun in exchange for his absence, Ramanujan, too, joined in, "kree-kkaahh-deyy-orh-oh," waving his own hands up into the air like Lance to signal the desire for a chorus.
((OOC: I'm imagining that quite a few people in the army are giving their own cries after this point.))
Re: Part 1 (Start Reading Here)
More voices chimed in with their own croons and hollers, and Lance twirled into a dance with the sounds, vocalizing as but one amidst all the rest. He sank with pleasure beneath thought, shedding whatever self-consciousness might have still lingered as he moved. Hands undid belt while feet stepped apart and hips swayed, hamstrings relishing a stretch as back muscles contracted, feeling pulsing through his body. He still felt frayed and tender, but whenever it bordered on too much, he simply bellowed another cry, adding to the song they all formed together.
He tripped when he tried to step out of his pants, and he rolled onto the ground, laughing, realizing too late that he'd skipped right past undoing his boots. Self-consciousness stirred again, but he persevered through it, embracing the absurdity and undoing his boots in the air above him. He hurled one boot and then the other toward the clothing pile, and then made a sweeping windmill motion with his legs, crooning victoriously as he followed the motion up to standing and finished stepping out of his pants with grace.
He'd saved his underwear to do separately, not so much a conscious decision as it was simply following the path of pleasure through this primal animalistic song-and-dance routine he seemed to be improvising. His hands slipped beneath the waistband of his underwear and caressed down his legs, knees bending and ass jutting out just-so. Some flare of self-consciousness worried that he was being too showy, but he was genuinely following the gestures it felt like his body wanted to make. He stepped out of his underwear and spread his arms wide, presenting himself to all present with breathless pride and letting their chorus of sounds wash over him.
He waited for a moment like that, listening and catching his breath as thought began to burgeon in his mind once again. Did he want this chorus while he was washed? He didn't think so. But, how to signal that it was time to quiet down? Was it selfish to ask everyone to quiet down? Finally he brought his hands to his chest, his eyes closing as he took in a deep breath in contemplation. Then, he raised and spread his arms again, slowly this time and palms down, his breathing deep and steady. And then he began to lower his arms--his whole body, his knees bending slowly into a crouch to bring his hands down to the ground, where he remained for a moment, listening again until there was quiet.
When silence fully settled, Lance felt proud and victorious, but anxiety also began to buzz and scrape at his insides, his heart pounding hard in his chest. He pushed himself slowly to standing, and he looked at the priestess with soft, wet eyes, uncertainty in his expression. The tenderness in his stomach throbbed as he surrendered to the fact that he did care about the priestess' reaction to all that, an acknowledgement that she could absolutely gut him if she took offense to it, if in the end she turned him away, deemed him inappropriate or unworthy. He didn't think that she would, though, and he mustered confidence to step toward her and offer his body into her care, racing heart be damned.
He tripped when he tried to step out of his pants, and he rolled onto the ground, laughing, realizing too late that he'd skipped right past undoing his boots. Self-consciousness stirred again, but he persevered through it, embracing the absurdity and undoing his boots in the air above him. He hurled one boot and then the other toward the clothing pile, and then made a sweeping windmill motion with his legs, crooning victoriously as he followed the motion up to standing and finished stepping out of his pants with grace.
He'd saved his underwear to do separately, not so much a conscious decision as it was simply following the path of pleasure through this primal animalistic song-and-dance routine he seemed to be improvising. His hands slipped beneath the waistband of his underwear and caressed down his legs, knees bending and ass jutting out just-so. Some flare of self-consciousness worried that he was being too showy, but he was genuinely following the gestures it felt like his body wanted to make. He stepped out of his underwear and spread his arms wide, presenting himself to all present with breathless pride and letting their chorus of sounds wash over him.
He waited for a moment like that, listening and catching his breath as thought began to burgeon in his mind once again. Did he want this chorus while he was washed? He didn't think so. But, how to signal that it was time to quiet down? Was it selfish to ask everyone to quiet down? Finally he brought his hands to his chest, his eyes closing as he took in a deep breath in contemplation. Then, he raised and spread his arms again, slowly this time and palms down, his breathing deep and steady. And then he began to lower his arms--his whole body, his knees bending slowly into a crouch to bring his hands down to the ground, where he remained for a moment, listening again until there was quiet.
When silence fully settled, Lance felt proud and victorious, but anxiety also began to buzz and scrape at his insides, his heart pounding hard in his chest. He pushed himself slowly to standing, and he looked at the priestess with soft, wet eyes, uncertainty in his expression. The tenderness in his stomach throbbed as he surrendered to the fact that he did care about the priestess' reaction to all that, an acknowledgement that she could absolutely gut him if she took offense to it, if in the end she turned him away, deemed him inappropriate or unworthy. He didn't think that she would, though, and he mustered confidence to step toward her and offer his body into her care, racing heart be damned.
Re: Part 1 (Start Reading Here)
Surprising the commander--and likely everyone else--Lance did not stop with his display once he had approached the priestess. He let out another guttural sounds, using the momentum, it seemed, to will others to call out their own sounds. Lance waved to and encouraged the crowd, who responded in kind. Or, at least, many of the volunteers did. That felt good, right even. Using the cacophony as momentum, Lance sprang into the air and landed in a crouch, the movement at once authentic and joyful. Standing and calling out again, Lance pulled off his shirt with a flourish, beckoning the whole crowd to join in with their own sounds. Slowly, they did.
The sounds echoing through the meadow where their own sort of song now, and Lance twirled in rhythm to them, reminding Mizu very much of the ways Lance moved his hips with her in private. The commander could not help but continue watching as Lance undid his belt and sways those same hips, stretching as he contracted his toned back muscles. Still dancing, Lance moved to step out of his pants but tripped. Mizu let out a tiny guffaw of surprise and perhaps some embarrassment, but Lance carried on undeterred, going so far as to unlace his boots in the air above him. The chants from the crowd only built in volume and passion, coming to a life of their own. Hair rose on the back of Mizu's neck.
At last, Lance threw his boots to the clothing pile and swept his legs through the air almost like the latter half of a cartwheel, getting again to his feet and this time more successful at shedding his pants.
He was down to his underwear now, and Mizu shifted a little uncomfortably where she stood as memories of sliding her skin across Lance--all of Lance--came potently back to mind. She felt her cheeks flush at the thought that both Captain Fujiwara and Captain Kade knew about what she had done with Lance. What would they think of her after all this?
Yes, it was absurd, but it was also... true, especially as Lance slipped his hands beneath his underwear and caressed himself all the way down his legs. Afterward, fully nude now, Lance spread his arms wide as though basking in the sensations of all the sounds coming from the vast gathered crowd.
Lance breathed heavily, and Mizu still could not take her eyes off him, though her cheeks were beginning to cool. Her lover finally brought his hands to his chest and closed his eyes, taking another deep breath. Afterward, he gently spread his arms and slowly lowered his hands, palms down. His knees bent with the motion until he was again in a crouch, and as he did so, the crowd quieted, understanding their participation to be at its end.
That complete, Lance returned to the priestess.
--
The priestess looked long and hard at Lance, the twitch of a smile in the corner of her mouth. If the offering was humble, she wasn't certain his undressing exactly was. But, it was not her place to judge, and the goddess deserved her due.
With a nod, the priestess picked up a new cloth and gently began to wash him, starting by kneeling on the ground at his feet.
((OOC: I suppose, it would be helpful if there's a particular part of Lance's body that might bring up a memory of Mizu from last night?))
The sounds echoing through the meadow where their own sort of song now, and Lance twirled in rhythm to them, reminding Mizu very much of the ways Lance moved his hips with her in private. The commander could not help but continue watching as Lance undid his belt and sways those same hips, stretching as he contracted his toned back muscles. Still dancing, Lance moved to step out of his pants but tripped. Mizu let out a tiny guffaw of surprise and perhaps some embarrassment, but Lance carried on undeterred, going so far as to unlace his boots in the air above him. The chants from the crowd only built in volume and passion, coming to a life of their own. Hair rose on the back of Mizu's neck.
At last, Lance threw his boots to the clothing pile and swept his legs through the air almost like the latter half of a cartwheel, getting again to his feet and this time more successful at shedding his pants.
He was down to his underwear now, and Mizu shifted a little uncomfortably where she stood as memories of sliding her skin across Lance--all of Lance--came potently back to mind. She felt her cheeks flush at the thought that both Captain Fujiwara and Captain Kade knew about what she had done with Lance. What would they think of her after all this?
Yes, it was absurd, but it was also... true, especially as Lance slipped his hands beneath his underwear and caressed himself all the way down his legs. Afterward, fully nude now, Lance spread his arms wide as though basking in the sensations of all the sounds coming from the vast gathered crowd.
Lance breathed heavily, and Mizu still could not take her eyes off him, though her cheeks were beginning to cool. Her lover finally brought his hands to his chest and closed his eyes, taking another deep breath. Afterward, he gently spread his arms and slowly lowered his hands, palms down. His knees bent with the motion until he was again in a crouch, and as he did so, the crowd quieted, understanding their participation to be at its end.
That complete, Lance returned to the priestess.
--
The priestess looked long and hard at Lance, the twitch of a smile in the corner of her mouth. If the offering was humble, she wasn't certain his undressing exactly was. But, it was not her place to judge, and the goddess deserved her due.
With a nod, the priestess picked up a new cloth and gently began to wash him, starting by kneeling on the ground at his feet.
((OOC: I suppose, it would be helpful if there's a particular part of Lance's body that might bring up a memory of Mizu from last night?))
Re: Part 1 (Start Reading Here)
From where she kneeled at Lance's feet, the priestess began to wash, taking her time and working her way up Lance's calves. She dipped the cloth again, moving up his thighs. When she arrived at his hips, a flash of a memory overtook her for a moment, one of someone sliding their fingers into Lance's pants. Tehlunae normally did not startle at such revelations--she was a priestess of Dehaljadrun, after all--but it quickly became clear that the woman involved was the commander. Unable to help it, Tehlunae looked around Lance's hip at Mizu with a slightly raised eyebrow, pausing in her washing to do so. Mizu adjusted quickly from staring at Lance to looking at the priestess, and Tehlunae saw her eyes widened.
Still largely unperturbed, the priestess continued washing over Lance's lower back and stomach, his chest and mid-back, his shoulders and upper back. She dipped the cloth again to wash down his arms and came back up to his collarbone, where another flood of memories from Lance's time with Mizu--just last night, it appeared--poured through, and Tehlunae found herself smiling slightly. She watched the two of them so gently approach each other, Mizu's soft gestures matched by Lance's gentle self-control.
Looking around Lance's collarbone, Tehluane caught Mizu's eye again and nodded this time, understanding.
The priestess dipped the cloth and wrung out hot water over Lance's head, following the trail down to his groin and washing the underside of him as well as his backside, seeing then a memory of Mizu nearly praying over Lance as she took his length into her mouth.
Oh dear, the priestess thought, it will be difficult for them to let go of one another after that.
Finishing with the wash, the priestess started in with the oil, now familiar with the memories coming up for Lance. He smelled delightful, and he shone. The chanting crowd had truly done wonders for him. Humility, indeed.
Quietly, so only Lance and Evan would hear, the priestess briefly held Lance's bicep and said, "You might consider making an offering of your evening last night as well. Otherwise, you may have a jealous goddess on your hands."
More loudly, so the crowd could hear, she asked, "Do you intend to serve the goddess of desire, of shadow, of mist, and of purpose of your own free will?"
Still largely unperturbed, the priestess continued washing over Lance's lower back and stomach, his chest and mid-back, his shoulders and upper back. She dipped the cloth again to wash down his arms and came back up to his collarbone, where another flood of memories from Lance's time with Mizu--just last night, it appeared--poured through, and Tehlunae found herself smiling slightly. She watched the two of them so gently approach each other, Mizu's soft gestures matched by Lance's gentle self-control.
Looking around Lance's collarbone, Tehluane caught Mizu's eye again and nodded this time, understanding.
The priestess dipped the cloth and wrung out hot water over Lance's head, following the trail down to his groin and washing the underside of him as well as his backside, seeing then a memory of Mizu nearly praying over Lance as she took his length into her mouth.
Oh dear, the priestess thought, it will be difficult for them to let go of one another after that.
Finishing with the wash, the priestess started in with the oil, now familiar with the memories coming up for Lance. He smelled delightful, and he shone. The chanting crowd had truly done wonders for him. Humility, indeed.
Quietly, so only Lance and Evan would hear, the priestess briefly held Lance's bicep and said, "You might consider making an offering of your evening last night as well. Otherwise, you may have a jealous goddess on your hands."
More loudly, so the crowd could hear, she asked, "Do you intend to serve the goddess of desire, of shadow, of mist, and of purpose of your own free will?"
Re: Part 1 (Start Reading Here)
The priestess seemed to take a long, hard look at Lance, which fed his anxiety significantly, but he held on to the twitch of a smile at the corner of her mouth. Surely this priestess was not one to smile with displeasure? Gods, Lance had to hope.
Finally, the priestess wet a new cloth and knelt down at Lance's feet, and he let out a large breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. He closed his eyes and breathed deeply as the priestess began to wash his feet, his calves, his thighs, and slowly, a fresh excitement built up within him as she worked her way up his body.
He was going to meet the goddess of desire.
Perhaps finally on the other side of his angst about his offering now, Lance could finally feel the full elation of the adventure he was embarking on--though he also began to feel a fresh melancholy tug at his chest. The priestess ran her cloth over one of Lance's hips, and he let out a soft huff of air as his mind drifted to Mizu, how her fingers had played beneath the hem of his pants on the cot in her tent.
A confusing, abstract panic thrummed in Lance's chest then, when he realized the priestess had paused there. He opened his eyes and looked down at her, catching just the tail end of her tossing a raised eyebrow somewhere behind Lance--where the commander stood. Tingles danced across his back, his chest aching to wonder what Mizu truly thought of this entire display of his. And, did that mean that the priestess knew?
He tried to let go of that curiosity--that self-consciousness--as the priestess resumed washing him, and he closed his eyes, breathing deep again as she ran her warm cloth over his stomach, his back, his chest, his shoulders. It was comforting, soothing his tingles and helping him to relax, at least for a few moments. The ache in his chest flared again when her cloth graced over his collar bones, and he tilted his head instinctively, a shiver running through him as he recalled ways that Mizu had gently run the backs of her nails over the skin of his neck and shoulders, how delightfully and tenderly she had engaged with him throughout their encounter. A freash nervousness settled in his stomach that the goddess would undoubtedly be a rather more harrowing experience.
The priestess wrung water out of her cloth atop Lance's head, and he instinctively let out a soft laugh, somehow feeling chastized and boyish about it. He kept his eyes closed as the priestess ran her cloth down his body again, paying attention now to some parts she had skipped over before. He let out a soft, shaky breath as she cleaned between his legs, his sheepishness flaring to a new peak. She did not make him feel chastized in any of those motions, though, and he relaxed again, especially once she moved on to the oil.
As she worked the oil in, Lance was beginning to find his footing again, a gentle buzz of excitement settling in to his skin with her motions. He liked thinking about how he looked, naked and getting oiled by a fire for all to behold. He liked thinking about how many voices had joined in to howl and sing and chant with him, and he elated to feel the feral sort of ecstacy that had erupted from him still sitting warm in his throat and his chest, ready to erupt again at the right moment.
That thunder was rather suddenly and thoroughly stolen when the priestess gripped Lance's arm, prompting his eyes to open as she said quietly to him,
"You might consider making an offering of your evening last night as well. Otherwise, you may have a jealous goddess on your hands."
Lance blinked at her dumfounded, back to feeling like a chastized young boy, and more thoroughly now that the priestess made it plain that she knew. How did she know? Had he done something wrong by indulging with Mizu last night? How should he make an offering of it? Just what was at risk if the goddess was jealous?
The questions cascaded through Lance's mind all in the same instant, and he hardly had time to sort them out before the priestess resumed her ceremonial role and asked Lance out loud for the crowd to hear:
"Do you intend to serve the goddess of desire, of shadow, of mist, and of purpose of your own free will?"
Gods, just moments before, he might have howled his yes, but now, he hesitated. A sharp, crooked smile pulled at his face, his anxiety hiding behind his practiced mask of bravado.
"Yes," he said, confidently, but plainly; no howl sufficiently inspired to form. His eyes were wide looking at the priestess, his grin still tugging at his face and practically praying that she wouldn't call him on his hesitation.
Finally, the priestess wet a new cloth and knelt down at Lance's feet, and he let out a large breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. He closed his eyes and breathed deeply as the priestess began to wash his feet, his calves, his thighs, and slowly, a fresh excitement built up within him as she worked her way up his body.
He was going to meet the goddess of desire.
Perhaps finally on the other side of his angst about his offering now, Lance could finally feel the full elation of the adventure he was embarking on--though he also began to feel a fresh melancholy tug at his chest. The priestess ran her cloth over one of Lance's hips, and he let out a soft huff of air as his mind drifted to Mizu, how her fingers had played beneath the hem of his pants on the cot in her tent.
A confusing, abstract panic thrummed in Lance's chest then, when he realized the priestess had paused there. He opened his eyes and looked down at her, catching just the tail end of her tossing a raised eyebrow somewhere behind Lance--where the commander stood. Tingles danced across his back, his chest aching to wonder what Mizu truly thought of this entire display of his. And, did that mean that the priestess knew?
He tried to let go of that curiosity--that self-consciousness--as the priestess resumed washing him, and he closed his eyes, breathing deep again as she ran her warm cloth over his stomach, his back, his chest, his shoulders. It was comforting, soothing his tingles and helping him to relax, at least for a few moments. The ache in his chest flared again when her cloth graced over his collar bones, and he tilted his head instinctively, a shiver running through him as he recalled ways that Mizu had gently run the backs of her nails over the skin of his neck and shoulders, how delightfully and tenderly she had engaged with him throughout their encounter. A freash nervousness settled in his stomach that the goddess would undoubtedly be a rather more harrowing experience.
The priestess wrung water out of her cloth atop Lance's head, and he instinctively let out a soft laugh, somehow feeling chastized and boyish about it. He kept his eyes closed as the priestess ran her cloth down his body again, paying attention now to some parts she had skipped over before. He let out a soft, shaky breath as she cleaned between his legs, his sheepishness flaring to a new peak. She did not make him feel chastized in any of those motions, though, and he relaxed again, especially once she moved on to the oil.
As she worked the oil in, Lance was beginning to find his footing again, a gentle buzz of excitement settling in to his skin with her motions. He liked thinking about how he looked, naked and getting oiled by a fire for all to behold. He liked thinking about how many voices had joined in to howl and sing and chant with him, and he elated to feel the feral sort of ecstacy that had erupted from him still sitting warm in his throat and his chest, ready to erupt again at the right moment.
That thunder was rather suddenly and thoroughly stolen when the priestess gripped Lance's arm, prompting his eyes to open as she said quietly to him,
"You might consider making an offering of your evening last night as well. Otherwise, you may have a jealous goddess on your hands."
Lance blinked at her dumfounded, back to feeling like a chastized young boy, and more thoroughly now that the priestess made it plain that she knew. How did she know? Had he done something wrong by indulging with Mizu last night? How should he make an offering of it? Just what was at risk if the goddess was jealous?
The questions cascaded through Lance's mind all in the same instant, and he hardly had time to sort them out before the priestess resumed her ceremonial role and asked Lance out loud for the crowd to hear:
"Do you intend to serve the goddess of desire, of shadow, of mist, and of purpose of your own free will?"
Gods, just moments before, he might have howled his yes, but now, he hesitated. A sharp, crooked smile pulled at his face, his anxiety hiding behind his practiced mask of bravado.
"Yes," he said, confidently, but plainly; no howl sufficiently inspired to form. His eyes were wide looking at the priestess, his grin still tugging at his face and practically praying that she wouldn't call him on his hesitation.
Re: Part 1 (Start Reading Here)
The hush that fell after the howling and crooning had stopped was loud, ringing in Mizu's ears. She shifted a little from foot to foot as the priestess knelt in front of Lance, hoping anyone watching would see it as simply a motion of readjustment--they had been standing here for some time now. But, in truth, Mizu was... uncomfortable. Taking a deep breath, Mizu made peace with however the priestess was going to touch Lance. He wasn't hers anymore. He never had been. The touch that they shared would be their last. Unprompted, Mizu thought of the moment when she had pulled Lance pleasantly into a kiss while her fluids still graced his tongue...
Mizu had been staring at Lance's back--somewhat distractedly--when the priestess' movement caught her eye. The old woman leaned around Lance's hipbones and looked right at her. Mizu swallowed, suddenly very aware of what her most recent thought had been. There was something accusatory in that look, and Mizu could not, for the life of her, understand it. There was no possible way that the priestess knew. She couldn't know.
She knew your full name, she thought and shifted uncomfortably again. The commander shifted her gaze to the ground for a moment, unsettled. She pulled her brows together slightly. Before long, however, the commander continued to watch the old woman wash Lance, now with significantly less jealousy as she moved over his back and arms. Lance deserved this peace. He deserved this... worship. Mizu couldn't give it to him anymore. The goddess would need to.
When the priestess began to wash Lance's collarbones, she looked at Mizu again, this time with a slight smile and a nod. Mizu shook her head almost imperceptibly in confusion. What did that mean? Mizu didn't understand, but she felt a knot in her stomach loosen.
The rest of the washing was as it had been with the others, perhaps with the minor exception that the priestess dripped water on Lance's head, following the drips down with her washcloth. It was a beautiful sight, and Mizu was grateful she was close enough to see it. She worried a little about the people on the outskirts of the circle. Were they growing bored? But, thinking about the howling Lance had encouraged, she thought not.
Thank you, Lance, Mizu thought, sending the gratitude his direction.
The oil glistened on Lance's body. It suited him like she had imagined it would. She allowed herself a long, slow exhale and closed her eyes. He isn't mine anymore, she told herself again. He never was.
At the sound of the priestess' voice, the commander opened her eyes, freshly hardened. "Do you intend to serve the goddess of desire, of shadow, of mist, and of purpose of your own free will?"
There was a moment of pause before Lance answered, plainly and confidently, "Yes."
That's it, then, Mizu thought, somewhat irrationally. She had known Lance had dedicated himself to the goddess all along. Of course he was going to say yes.
The priestess nodded at Lance, gently rotating around him so she could draw a sigil on one side of his bare backside with clay.
"Then, please, step into the circle," the priestess said, and Mizu quietly held her breath.
((OOC: The priestess will ask for the next person whenever Lance is finished, so Chris can go ahead when ready. <3))
Mizu had been staring at Lance's back--somewhat distractedly--when the priestess' movement caught her eye. The old woman leaned around Lance's hipbones and looked right at her. Mizu swallowed, suddenly very aware of what her most recent thought had been. There was something accusatory in that look, and Mizu could not, for the life of her, understand it. There was no possible way that the priestess knew. She couldn't know.
She knew your full name, she thought and shifted uncomfortably again. The commander shifted her gaze to the ground for a moment, unsettled. She pulled her brows together slightly. Before long, however, the commander continued to watch the old woman wash Lance, now with significantly less jealousy as she moved over his back and arms. Lance deserved this peace. He deserved this... worship. Mizu couldn't give it to him anymore. The goddess would need to.
When the priestess began to wash Lance's collarbones, she looked at Mizu again, this time with a slight smile and a nod. Mizu shook her head almost imperceptibly in confusion. What did that mean? Mizu didn't understand, but she felt a knot in her stomach loosen.
The rest of the washing was as it had been with the others, perhaps with the minor exception that the priestess dripped water on Lance's head, following the drips down with her washcloth. It was a beautiful sight, and Mizu was grateful she was close enough to see it. She worried a little about the people on the outskirts of the circle. Were they growing bored? But, thinking about the howling Lance had encouraged, she thought not.
Thank you, Lance, Mizu thought, sending the gratitude his direction.
The oil glistened on Lance's body. It suited him like she had imagined it would. She allowed herself a long, slow exhale and closed her eyes. He isn't mine anymore, she told herself again. He never was.
At the sound of the priestess' voice, the commander opened her eyes, freshly hardened. "Do you intend to serve the goddess of desire, of shadow, of mist, and of purpose of your own free will?"
There was a moment of pause before Lance answered, plainly and confidently, "Yes."
That's it, then, Mizu thought, somewhat irrationally. She had known Lance had dedicated himself to the goddess all along. Of course he was going to say yes.
The priestess nodded at Lance, gently rotating around him so she could draw a sigil on one side of his bare backside with clay.
"Then, please, step into the circle," the priestess said, and Mizu quietly held her breath.
((OOC: The priestess will ask for the next person whenever Lance is finished, so Chris can go ahead when ready. <3))
Re: Part 1 (Start Reading Here)
The priestess nodded, and Lance nodded back, relaxing a little. She surprised him by stepping around him, though, and he very nearly turned to follow her, but kept himself still long enough to feel her draw his sigil right onto his backside. His cheeks flashed hot, but he smiled genuinely and let out a soft, airy laugh, boyish yet again and this time giddy about it. Oh, anxiety still buzzed once more in his gut, the priestess' advice tugging at his attention, but there wasn't much to do about it now.
"Then, please, step into the circle," the priestess said, and Lance looked at her over his shoulder--and then at Evan. The captain had on a cocky smirk, which honestly was just about the most relieving expression Lance could have seen on him. Lance mirrored the grin, and then softened it as he nodded to the priestess, waiting the beat it took for the two of them to bow as they had for the others before stepping forward over the line.
"Then, please, step into the circle," the priestess said, and Lance looked at her over his shoulder--and then at Evan. The captain had on a cocky smirk, which honestly was just about the most relieving expression Lance could have seen on him. Lance mirrored the grin, and then softened it as he nodded to the priestess, waiting the beat it took for the two of them to bow as they had for the others before stepping forward over the line.
Re: Part 1 (Start Reading Here)
In the moments before Lance took that final step, he looked over his shoulder at the priestess and then at Evan. Following his gaze, Mizu saw that Evan had an insufferably cocky smirk on his face, and Mizu refrained from rolling her eyes. Still, she couldn't help but feel grateful that Evan knew what Mizu had done with Lance. At least she would be able to talk to Evan about it all in the future. Perhaps she could even ask after Lance's well-being. Then again, maybe she didn't want to know.
Evan and the priestess bowed as Lance stepped over the line to join the other volunteers, and Mizu let out her breath, standing resolutely. There seemed to be a lull, and Mizu's eyes flicked around, trying to understand why.
Right, she thought, summoning every ounce of emotion she had felt watching Lance tonight--sorrow, jealousy, peace, acceptance, hope, gratitude--and allowing them to swirl together as she called out, resoundingly, "To the goddess!"
The captains reiterated quickly, excitedly, and the crowd followed, eager to let their voices be heard again. Several people even hooped and hollered for Lance. Mizu allowed herself the smallest of smiles.
Evan and the priestess bowed as Lance stepped over the line to join the other volunteers, and Mizu let out her breath, standing resolutely. There seemed to be a lull, and Mizu's eyes flicked around, trying to understand why.
Right, she thought, summoning every ounce of emotion she had felt watching Lance tonight--sorrow, jealousy, peace, acceptance, hope, gratitude--and allowing them to swirl together as she called out, resoundingly, "To the goddess!"
The captains reiterated quickly, excitedly, and the crowd followed, eager to let their voices be heard again. Several people even hooped and hollered for Lance. Mizu allowed herself the smallest of smiles.
Re: Part 1 (Start Reading Here)
Chris had been pretty irritated when it became clear that everyone was going to share their offerings publically--not to mention go to the goddess in the nude. It made him waver again, for certainly not the first time. He didn't want to share his offering with everyone, nor his body. The lack of privacy they had on the road was awkward enough, but this was a different thing altogether. He resolved to go last--among those whose order wasn't predetermined, anyhow.
He didn't really understand Trevor's offering, and he uncomfortably looked away for parts of it. Some of the others made more sense, though. He'd actually participated in Nick's, and it was...refreshing, to have him kick things off after. Chris was awfully curious about the context of Pemberley's offering, though he wasn't entirely sure he actually wanted to know. Still, he suspected he would, if he really went through wit this.
Was he still doubting? Still considering walking off even now? Well... yes. This whole thing still seemed crazy. He still didn't entirely understand why he was called to it. Just... hoping to belong somewhere unknown, given how little he felt he belonged here? That was his best guess, but it seemed stupid. Naive. What was he really signing up for here?
He paid close attention to Nathan's offering, though. The poem did stir something in Chris--some familiarity, some hope that there might be something for Chris where they were going. Chloe also gave him some hope; she approached the process with joy and dignity, and Chris felt glad that he would be in her company in the goddess' realm. And Gavin's... Chris' eyes bugged a little, caught off-guard by the soldier's reveal. But there was something truly heartening about it... about secrets held close to the chest, brought out into the open, and accepted.
Then it was down to the final three. The final two, excluding Novelty who would go last. Holloway looked at Chris with a stupid, half-grin sort of expression. Chris glared at him, least interested in the lieutenant's company of everyone there. He was brash and annoying, arrogant and insufferably teasing. Chris watched as Holloway raised his arm in the air and his skin lost some of its color; he almost thought the lieutenant might faint. But instead, Holloway pivoted and let out a wailing, sing-song cry that sent chills rippling down the back of Chris' neck.
“Heyy-yeyy-YAH!”
A slight chill seemed to settle in the air as Holloway's cry rang in the silence that followed. Chris gaped at him wide-eyed, surprised by whatever it was that Holloway was showing. This wasn't just his goofball antics--that cry had power. Not that Chris knew much about that, not really, but he could feel it. The air seemed more crisp now, carrying some imperceptible echo of Lance's cry between bodies and plants and sky, and Chris felt heavy with a fresh awareness of just how much life was packed into this clearing, just how many souls were gathered to do this sacred thing together.
Sacred. Was Chris really ready to believe that? He wanted to. Maybe that was enough.
"I will offer myself to the goddess," Holloway pronounced, his skin flush with color again. Chris blinked a few times, a quiet scoff pushing itself from his throat. Himself? Was that supposed to be Holloway's offering?
The priestess directed Holloway to undress, but the lieutenant dallied. He clenched a fist over his chest, eyes closed, and Chris wondered if Holloway was wavering. But, in the wake of his cry? It didn't make much sense. Then, the lieutenant opened his eyes, surveying everyone present, and all at once threw his head back and howled, like a wolf at the moon, but with an undeniably beautiful song in his voice.
"Hoo-weyy-yeyy-yah!"
Chris touched his fingers to his throat without realizing, some indignance swelling at a thunder being stolen. Here he'd been debating whether to share his song with everyone or to save it to the goddess, and there was Holloway, singing, in a manner anyway. Indignance calmed, though, as Holloway spread his arms and curled his fingers, undeniably beckoning. Chris hesitated a moment, his eyes darting around to quickly assess if anyone else understood what was happening, until he decided that he didn't care; if anyone was going to answer that, he wanted to be the first.
So, Chris drew in a deep breath and crooned at the top of his lungs, thrill shooting through him to share this prelude to his own offering, perhaps paving a path for him to be able to share it with everyone rather than freeze up.
"Hoo-woah-ohh-ohh-ah!"
Holloway flashed a bright, ecstatic grin Chris' direction, and Chris couldn't deny he felt a happy splash of warmth in his stomach. Maybe, just maybe, Holloway wouldn't be so insufferable. Chris only knew the lieutenant from a far in wartime, after all; maybe in stepping away from that, and toward something more primal and divine... maybe even Holloway Chris could find some kind of comeraderie with. Or at the very least, a comfortable tolerance.
"Ah-heyy-yaa-oh!"
Another cry startled Chris, and he blinked over to see Chloe inside the circle, bright and giddy in the wake of her own primal croon. Chris smiled a little, his chest growing warm. He was genuinely looking forward to spending more time with her. She shifted her smile to him, and Chris smiled back a little dumbly before shyness got the best of him and he chewed his lips into a frown, eyes darting off to the side. Gods, no matter how this all played out, it was going to be weird.
"Ra-ahh-ah!"
Holloway crooned again, drawing Chris' gaze back to him. He had crouched down, hands pressed fiercely against the ground beneath him, and he practically growled like an animal. Then he stood and pulled off his shirt, before spreading his arms, beckoning once again.
"Ooo-rryy-aahh-kkaa!"
Novelty startled Chris by chiming in behind him, and then someone else in the crowd called out his own--
"kree-kkaahh-deyy-orh-oh!"
The other soldier--Ansari, Chris realized; the one who had changed his mind about returning to the goddess--waved his hands in the air, echoing Holloway's invitation to the crowd. More and more people joined in, and Holloway twirled and gyrated, howling and crooning along with the crowd while he undressed. Chris was nearly slack-jawed as he watched the display, honestly confused about the awe that he felt. On the surface, Holloway looked kind of ridiculous, but... Chris couldn't deny the grace and ferocity that intwined with the absurdity, and the chorus of crooning and howling that reverberated around them was truly something to stand amidst. Chris finally let go of something and closed his eyes, and let himself join in that chorus, not wanting to miss the opportunity to sing with others in this moment.
At some point Chris realized that the chorus was quieting, though, and he opened his eyes again, and saw that Holloway was lowering down into a crouch, his arms spread wide with his palms down now, gently pulling the volume of the chorus he had inspired down to silence. That was certainly a striking sight and experience, no denying that.
Chris's attention drifted back into himself as the priestess set about bathing Holloway, though. Chris didn't feel much called to participate in that part of things, and his heart was beginning to pound hard in his chest; he was up next, if he was going to do this.
He thought back on his conversation with Ansari about why the soldier had changed his mind. How he had decided to dedicate himself to Horu instead--that there was an opportunity to do so in camp, albeit concerning a 'piece' of Horu, whatever that meant. Chris respected Horu, he supposed, but never felt much at home in her temples, and he wasn't sure he could stomach more supernatural shenanigans. He just imagined staying and feeling left out on two fronts, and it made him feel queasy. No, he really didn't think that he wanted that path. And what else was left, desertion?
"Do you intend to serve the goddess of desire, of shadow, of mist, and of purpose of your own free will?"
The priestess' voice cut into Chris' attention, and he focused back in on her and Holloway. Rutliff was grinning in a way that made Chris feel a little uncomfortable, but that wasn't necessarily the first time Chris had seen that expression on the captain's face. Chris had many of the same misgivings about Rutliff as Holloway--they did seem to be friends, after all--but Chris had also seen a change in Rutliff. From afar, and difficult to put into words, but potent. Especially today, all things considered. Rutliff has checked in with Chris earlier, and had shown Chris respect. Tentatively, Chris looked forward to seeing who Rutliff was with the goddess.
"Yes," Holloway declared, and stepped resolutely into the circle.
The commander sounded off the chant to the goddess, and Chris stood in the sound of it all, chills dancing up and down his spine as he braced himself for what he was finally resolving to do.
"Who is next to offer themselves to the goddess?" The priestess asked, and Chris stepped forward.
"I will."
He began to walk toward her then, focused desperately on trying to keep his whole body from trembling as he moved.
He didn't really understand Trevor's offering, and he uncomfortably looked away for parts of it. Some of the others made more sense, though. He'd actually participated in Nick's, and it was...refreshing, to have him kick things off after. Chris was awfully curious about the context of Pemberley's offering, though he wasn't entirely sure he actually wanted to know. Still, he suspected he would, if he really went through wit this.
Was he still doubting? Still considering walking off even now? Well... yes. This whole thing still seemed crazy. He still didn't entirely understand why he was called to it. Just... hoping to belong somewhere unknown, given how little he felt he belonged here? That was his best guess, but it seemed stupid. Naive. What was he really signing up for here?
He paid close attention to Nathan's offering, though. The poem did stir something in Chris--some familiarity, some hope that there might be something for Chris where they were going. Chloe also gave him some hope; she approached the process with joy and dignity, and Chris felt glad that he would be in her company in the goddess' realm. And Gavin's... Chris' eyes bugged a little, caught off-guard by the soldier's reveal. But there was something truly heartening about it... about secrets held close to the chest, brought out into the open, and accepted.
Then it was down to the final three. The final two, excluding Novelty who would go last. Holloway looked at Chris with a stupid, half-grin sort of expression. Chris glared at him, least interested in the lieutenant's company of everyone there. He was brash and annoying, arrogant and insufferably teasing. Chris watched as Holloway raised his arm in the air and his skin lost some of its color; he almost thought the lieutenant might faint. But instead, Holloway pivoted and let out a wailing, sing-song cry that sent chills rippling down the back of Chris' neck.
“Heyy-yeyy-YAH!”
A slight chill seemed to settle in the air as Holloway's cry rang in the silence that followed. Chris gaped at him wide-eyed, surprised by whatever it was that Holloway was showing. This wasn't just his goofball antics--that cry had power. Not that Chris knew much about that, not really, but he could feel it. The air seemed more crisp now, carrying some imperceptible echo of Lance's cry between bodies and plants and sky, and Chris felt heavy with a fresh awareness of just how much life was packed into this clearing, just how many souls were gathered to do this sacred thing together.
Sacred. Was Chris really ready to believe that? He wanted to. Maybe that was enough.
"I will offer myself to the goddess," Holloway pronounced, his skin flush with color again. Chris blinked a few times, a quiet scoff pushing itself from his throat. Himself? Was that supposed to be Holloway's offering?
The priestess directed Holloway to undress, but the lieutenant dallied. He clenched a fist over his chest, eyes closed, and Chris wondered if Holloway was wavering. But, in the wake of his cry? It didn't make much sense. Then, the lieutenant opened his eyes, surveying everyone present, and all at once threw his head back and howled, like a wolf at the moon, but with an undeniably beautiful song in his voice.
"Hoo-weyy-yeyy-yah!"
Chris touched his fingers to his throat without realizing, some indignance swelling at a thunder being stolen. Here he'd been debating whether to share his song with everyone or to save it to the goddess, and there was Holloway, singing, in a manner anyway. Indignance calmed, though, as Holloway spread his arms and curled his fingers, undeniably beckoning. Chris hesitated a moment, his eyes darting around to quickly assess if anyone else understood what was happening, until he decided that he didn't care; if anyone was going to answer that, he wanted to be the first.
So, Chris drew in a deep breath and crooned at the top of his lungs, thrill shooting through him to share this prelude to his own offering, perhaps paving a path for him to be able to share it with everyone rather than freeze up.
"Hoo-woah-ohh-ohh-ah!"
Holloway flashed a bright, ecstatic grin Chris' direction, and Chris couldn't deny he felt a happy splash of warmth in his stomach. Maybe, just maybe, Holloway wouldn't be so insufferable. Chris only knew the lieutenant from a far in wartime, after all; maybe in stepping away from that, and toward something more primal and divine... maybe even Holloway Chris could find some kind of comeraderie with. Or at the very least, a comfortable tolerance.
"Ah-heyy-yaa-oh!"
Another cry startled Chris, and he blinked over to see Chloe inside the circle, bright and giddy in the wake of her own primal croon. Chris smiled a little, his chest growing warm. He was genuinely looking forward to spending more time with her. She shifted her smile to him, and Chris smiled back a little dumbly before shyness got the best of him and he chewed his lips into a frown, eyes darting off to the side. Gods, no matter how this all played out, it was going to be weird.
"Ra-ahh-ah!"
Holloway crooned again, drawing Chris' gaze back to him. He had crouched down, hands pressed fiercely against the ground beneath him, and he practically growled like an animal. Then he stood and pulled off his shirt, before spreading his arms, beckoning once again.
"Ooo-rryy-aahh-kkaa!"
Novelty startled Chris by chiming in behind him, and then someone else in the crowd called out his own--
"kree-kkaahh-deyy-orh-oh!"
The other soldier--Ansari, Chris realized; the one who had changed his mind about returning to the goddess--waved his hands in the air, echoing Holloway's invitation to the crowd. More and more people joined in, and Holloway twirled and gyrated, howling and crooning along with the crowd while he undressed. Chris was nearly slack-jawed as he watched the display, honestly confused about the awe that he felt. On the surface, Holloway looked kind of ridiculous, but... Chris couldn't deny the grace and ferocity that intwined with the absurdity, and the chorus of crooning and howling that reverberated around them was truly something to stand amidst. Chris finally let go of something and closed his eyes, and let himself join in that chorus, not wanting to miss the opportunity to sing with others in this moment.
At some point Chris realized that the chorus was quieting, though, and he opened his eyes again, and saw that Holloway was lowering down into a crouch, his arms spread wide with his palms down now, gently pulling the volume of the chorus he had inspired down to silence. That was certainly a striking sight and experience, no denying that.
Chris's attention drifted back into himself as the priestess set about bathing Holloway, though. Chris didn't feel much called to participate in that part of things, and his heart was beginning to pound hard in his chest; he was up next, if he was going to do this.
He thought back on his conversation with Ansari about why the soldier had changed his mind. How he had decided to dedicate himself to Horu instead--that there was an opportunity to do so in camp, albeit concerning a 'piece' of Horu, whatever that meant. Chris respected Horu, he supposed, but never felt much at home in her temples, and he wasn't sure he could stomach more supernatural shenanigans. He just imagined staying and feeling left out on two fronts, and it made him feel queasy. No, he really didn't think that he wanted that path. And what else was left, desertion?
"Do you intend to serve the goddess of desire, of shadow, of mist, and of purpose of your own free will?"
The priestess' voice cut into Chris' attention, and he focused back in on her and Holloway. Rutliff was grinning in a way that made Chris feel a little uncomfortable, but that wasn't necessarily the first time Chris had seen that expression on the captain's face. Chris had many of the same misgivings about Rutliff as Holloway--they did seem to be friends, after all--but Chris had also seen a change in Rutliff. From afar, and difficult to put into words, but potent. Especially today, all things considered. Rutliff has checked in with Chris earlier, and had shown Chris respect. Tentatively, Chris looked forward to seeing who Rutliff was with the goddess.
"Yes," Holloway declared, and stepped resolutely into the circle.
The commander sounded off the chant to the goddess, and Chris stood in the sound of it all, chills dancing up and down his spine as he braced himself for what he was finally resolving to do.
"Who is next to offer themselves to the goddess?" The priestess asked, and Chris stepped forward.
"I will."
He began to walk toward her then, focused desperately on trying to keep his whole body from trembling as he moved.