Small Little Things of A Small Little Mind

aw shit

[This one has a TITLE.

The Fire Priestess and a Fickle Prince]

The priest spoke words that could burn flesh and she walked as though the robes that draped over her not-so prominent figure were made of lava from the Earth. Her tongue, with each word pronounced, flickered with the bright sparks of fire. Dragons knew her name and knew her well. She was their priestess and who dares threaten her life, feasted their eyes on the delicious scenery of dragons spouting their fiery breathes of twirling flames. She stood in the church, guarding the young of the dragons, caring for the youngsters, she was the guardian. 

A prince with whose memory and conduct was fickle, stumbled upon the holy church that perched itself atop a hill. The Priestess, ready for defense, stood at the doorway and sprouted her arms across with such speed that it truly looked like fire was burning at the edges of the sleeves of her red robes. The prince, dressed in the glamours of money and ancient family glory, stared at the priestess with curious eyes. When he saw the fire that burned in her eyes, he knew well that his presence was not appreciated in the least. He was unwelcomed at the doorsteps of the church. The sounds of rustling was heard behind the wooden doors and the fickle prince asked, his voice strayed, "Oh, dear milady, what is it that you keep behind those doors?" He sighed, "Are there those who can guide me to riches hiding there?" 

The priestess squinted at the twigs at her feet and answered with a voice of clarity and glimmer, " If you search for riches, fair lad, search elsewhere. If you search for my secrets, they are not for you to find." 

"May you guide me to the path I seek?" The prince inquired, "The path of further riches?" The priestess shook her head as meaning not to know and not to leave her position. 

"Search up the road. There is nothing for you here, but ahead you may find what you seek." She extended her arm and pointed northern of the church, the robe sleeves draping over her skinny arm.  Her short, brown braids fell from her shoulders relaxing down her back.

"May I ask, if it won't be a bother, milady, what church is this? Does it follow the holy words of God?" The prince asked once more, his curiosity growing like a plant from the moist Earth. 

The priestess grew more annoyed with the fickle prince's questions. "This is not a church of God, sir. This is the church of a less known religion which I rather not go into."