PHILTATOS // Foolish X Reader

8

You ended up weathering a discussion of faith from Anello, unable to escape for fear of him figuring out that you hadn't been wanting to discuss your wavering faith and questioning you further on what you had originally come to him for. In any other circumstances, you would have appreciated his words - assuring you that he too had had traitorous thoughts wondering if the gods had abandoned the city, or were even real, but that it was important to ward off these harmful notes, for they would weaken your heart over time and turn you away from your devotion.

Anello's words only drifted in one ear and out the other though, for you couldn't stop thinking about the energy that had possessed him when you had asked about the last recorded instance of someone seeing a god in their corporeal form. However you had been expecting him to react, it hadn't been like that.

You hated how unsettled it had made you. Anello surely had meant no harm - he had just been surprised as you had been, and had been waiting for the gods to send some kind of signal that they were still listening for longer than you had been in the worship. That logic didn't stop you from ducking out of the conversation as soon as you could though, and it couldn't uncurl the coil of disgust that had settled deep in your stomach, remembering the manic light in Anello's eyes when he had grabbed your hand.

As soon as you could, you bid Anello goodbye and made your way back to the center of the acropolis in search of the library. Without any guidance from Anello, you supposed it was up to you to try and find some for yourself.

The library was one of the oldest buildings on the hill - it had been constructed as a temple when Vesapasian's ancestors had first built the city, but as more grand and specialized temples had been constructed later on, the members of the worship had found another use for the small building. It now held record of all the religious texts and stories that had been accumulated throughout the years, as well as whatever scrolls the priests and priestesses kept for pleasure reading. It was never busy there, and now as you walked in was no exception.

The place was dimly lit, most of the light streaming in through dusty windows. Around the room, shelves of clay tablets lined the walls - some holding written words, while others showed depictions of scenes from literature. The scrolls were kept in tall wooden boxes, almost like vases of flowers. Desks and chairs filled most of the rest of the space - ample a place to sit down and read.

You walked over to the first of these wooden vases, pulling out one of the scrolls and reading the lettering printed on the outside. Daɪki - the story of how years ago, the first caesar created order among his people and became the leader of one of the strongest cities in the world, all thanks to Nkri. This was the right batch of scrolls then.

Picking the whole box up, you carried it over to one of the nearest desks, and got to work.

You knew these stories - they were common tales that had been preformed by poets in the streets before the streets had become too crowded for such a thing, and the arts had largely been given up on in favor of jobs that actually turned a profit. It had been a while since you had read them though, more focused as you were on your place in the worship. There was a sort of nostalgia to it as you read, as if you were revisiting long lost friends.

There was the tale of the illustrious Dimosthenus, who, in trying to earn the blessing of Floga, the sun, had climbed the tallest tower in the city, and at midday when the sun chariot hung right over his head, grabbed onto the back of the chariot. For a moment, he was victorious, but the heat of Floga's presence burned his hands. Dimosthenus fell from the sky and met his doom on the sea crags below.

There was the tragedy of Theofania, a priestess of Logios. In wanting to become closer to the god she was devoted to, she had called out to Logios, asking to bear their marks. Logios granted her wish, and Theofania took a piece of the gods essence into her. As Logios knew all and saw all, so did she. Theofania did not last an hour before pitching herself into the sea, the knowledge of the world proving too much.

Polyxenas the farmer called out to Vryo to provide him with a harvest and feed his starving family, promising the best of the fruit in return. Vyro did such, but when Polyxenas did not return the best of the fruit, Vryo caused his own seeds to sprout from his pores.

In a similar strain, most stories involving the gods ended in death for their charges. The lover Aristedis was struck through the middle by Nkri for committing adultery in the gods temple. Melothippi, the neglectful mother, was killed by her children at the words of Frontida. Even Man'nko, the god of sleep, had brought wrath down upon one or two mortals throughout time.

None of it was comforting, now that Anoitos had appeared to you in corporeal form.

He hadn't seemed like he had bad intentions, but none of the gods ever did at first. The myths were more of a warning than help - but you had been expecting that. You were standing at the brink of something unprecedented, you were sure, and it was looking more and more like you would have to go it alone. With how Anello had reacted...

You shook off the thought as you closed the last scroll, sliding it back into the box with the others. You would just do your best to bring some sweet berries with you when you went to temple tomorrow.