Moon day: Temple

When I was young, I thought about being a priestess. I couldn’t say why, aside from thinking they were beautiful. Priestesses wear their hair down around their faces, with circlets of silver for rank woven like willow branches. When I was a little girl, I used to love those circlets. I wanted one all of my own to wear. Of course, silver is a priestly metal. Not for the likes of us.

I feel meditative, as if a day spent fasting with my own thoughts has calmed my mind considerably. It was dark out when I left the house, going cloaked by carriage to the lake temple.

I don’t pray to Brother River or the Father. It isn’t that I do not humble myself before them. It is just that why would I be anything but humble before them? I can find no peace in their worship. Sister is a goddess, a woman, and she has children and all the thoughts and worries that go with womanhood.

Looking out between the temple pillars, with my knees on a cushion because I am not penitent, just thoughtful, I found myself watching the concourse of the boats. I recognized a few of the pennants flying from various coracles. It was not very devout of me, but it was a game I could play with myself to keep myself awake.

The priestesses think it is a great game to chill the sacred waters before sprinking them on us, I think. I swear, I almost yelped half the time when I felt the melted ice running down my forehead and wetting my hair.

I think I would have enjoyed that game, though I thought to be snide with them and shorten my donation for it. I didn’t. After all, for every priestess playing her little game, there is a priest overseeing her who counts the coffers and notes faces. I want no attention drawn to me for stinginess from the temple of waterfalls. They have the ear of royalty, the high priests.

I don’t like writing so frankly, but I forget myself. One of these days I must consider that in detail, for I think this journal of mine may be a sin. For so many months now it’s been a way to organize and plan, but lately it’s been something of a thing in itself. I used to struggle for words, and now they pour from me like water from an urn. What does that say about me?

In brief, then, because I do not like this. I was at the temple all day, and I made a friend there, a most auspicious thing. I will talk to Sev tomorrow and see what plans have changed.

Her name is Mishta. She’s from the lower delta, obviously, it shows all over her. She’s very dainty and sweet, and she told me she liked the fillet in my hair. I invited her to try it on, and she blushed. I know I trod close to mocking the gods’ will there, but it was funny and she is young. Fifteen, I would say. I wonder why she became a priestess.

We talked after my meditation was over. She has a soft laugh, convinient so that we didn’t disturb the other templegoers.

Perhaps I’ll see her again. Perhaps I should go to temple more often, without the children.

I made a friend today.

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