PHILTATOS // Foolish X Reader

4

You had almost made it back to the dormitories when you realized you'd left your prayer beads behind.

You'd gone to adjust the string around your neck when your fingers had closed around air. There was a moment of panic when you'd thought you had lost them - but no, you just hadn't picked them back up from the altar of the temple. What a day that would have been though - to have lost your beads and your faith.

Turning around, you started back down the stone path towards the west side of the hill, retracing your steps.

Unwavering faith.

A while ago, when you had first joined the worship, Anello had described faith like a stone - buried deep underneath the rest of your flesh, like soil. Pointing at the very ground he had been standing upon, he had talked about how all he could see was soil, but if he dug down far enough he would surely hit a stone. That it might have been hidden from sight, but it was always there.

It was a wonderful metaphor then, and it had made you excited to be a part of such a spiritual group of people.

Now though, you couldn't help but think that after intense pressure, stones cracked. And after enduring the pressure of the city dying around you for so long, you could feel a fissure beginning to open in your own faith.

It had been months, and you had kept faith that things would turn around eventually. You had brought the offerings and said the prayers and run your fingers over those beads so many times, but nothing had happened. All the promises that had been made - that surely, the gods would hear the collective plea of the city and respond - were beginning to fall through.

The chest of offerings had felt so light in your hands... you weren't so sure that the city could take much more of this.

You turned off the main path, following the smaller line of stones that branched out to Anoitos' temple, and your thoughts turned to the rest of the worship. They would never speak it aloud, of course, but surely you couldn't be the only one beginning to question the benevolence of the gods.

Where was the care that they were supposed to provide for the city of their chosen people? Why had they let the fields produce less harvest, and the fishermen come back empty handed? Why had they cursed mothers to be more fertile, so that now the streets were overflowing with hungry mouths that couldn't be fed? In what cruel world had the justice system turned into a killing game, pitting trained champions against masses of freshly incarcerated citizens?

You had been taught that the gods were kind providers - they were the reason the fields and the orchards churned out more that could be eaten, and why trade was lucrative and the sun shone down on you.

You were beginning to think that the gods had abandoned you.

Unwavering faith.

What else could you do, but keep praying? Unless you wanted to try your chances in a land outside the city, like the warden had, and run away from the worship, there was nothing else you could do. Leaving was unthinkable - you had been born here, and you had a place among the holy men and women. It was your duty to the rest of the citizens to keep trying, even if you were beginning to think you would never get an answer.

If only you'd had someone to voice your worries to - someone to ease your mind, or at least try to. You would never dare speak anything of this kind to one of the other worship members - much less Anello, though he often said that any one of the priests and priestesses on this hill could find a confidant in him. Such speak would bring into question your loyalty to the gods, and possibly lose you your place in the worship.

And if there was one thing that was worth that losing your faith, it would be losing your place here. The acropolis had offered you security from the poverty ridden streets, and losing it now would be a death sentence in one way or another.

It was a difficult position to be in for sure.

No answer would present itself smoothly though - not with a dilemma like the one before you. It would only do now to keep praying, and hope that the faith returned.

Approaching Anoitos' temple again, you opened the door, turning as you stepped inside to close it again. The door closing with a satisfying clunk, you spun back around, intending to just quickly bow your head and grab your beads without much circumstance.

You were not expecting to see a man, mid-way through stuffing his face with the plate of offerings you had brought, at the altar, his eyes blown wide with panic and focused on you.

You stared back at him. "I- you- what are you doing? Who are you? How-?" You turned halfway back to the door, intending to run for one of the guards.

"Wait!"

The man's voice drew your attention back to him, just in time to see his appearance shift slightly - like there was something behind the mirage of his skin. For a moment - the man was gone, and in his place, a living replica of the hulking gold warrior depicted in the statue took his place.

Your hand dropped from the handle of the door, staring up at the god before you. Out of all the times for your prayers to be answered... and of all ways, like this...

"See?" He said, shrinking back to the man you had seen before, the boyish smile you knew so well still on his face. "It's just me!"

Standing before you, with crumbs of bread on his face, was Anoitos, somehow - impossibly - in the flesh.