There should be temples, Faith thought. More of them. More places where people could go and worship, go and pray; yet the idea of a temple was a rather strange one. She recalled the conversation she'd had with Kali, about how much of an antithesis temples were to her. The Sev'ryn woman had been quite adamant and that had caused Faith to smile slightly at the time, as it did now. She had been equally sure of herself, of course and in that moment Faith had to wonder whether those people she had known then - so many lifetimes ago - had changed as much as she had. Her thoughts ticked over as she stood up from the ground where she had been kneeling and Faith casually and calmly stepped out of her shoes. Her emotions were calming as she moved over to the tree in the garden and she sat on the cool stone which was next to it. Here was where she came to pray to Moseke, generally. It was where Faith felt closest to the Immortal of Life and where she often sat and thought about ways to cure different illnesses, or how to treat a specific patient, for example. It was, it had always been, a place where Faith felt calm.
"I was so afraid, when I was pregnant with Rose," Faith whispered in a soft prayer to Moseke. "I don't know how to be a good mother. I don't even really know how to be a bad one. I suppose that's true of most people, though, I've realised." Touching the small daisy-like flowers growing in clumps at the base of the tree, Faith hummed a tune to encourage them to grow. "Have faith, you told me. It was so long ago, when you stepped down to speak to us in Ne'haer, just before we went through to Oscillus. Have faith, you said and you stroked my cheek." Her fingers moved gently over the petals and leaves as she unconsciously mirrored the movement Moseke had made.
"It's so big. I'm trying to focus on everything, but it's so big. Holy Moseke, I need to focus on saving lives. Life, the earth of Rharne and all the places we are going to end up," all the fights, conflicts and bloodshed. All the violence and early graves. Faith hated the idea of it, but recognised that the Coven had to be stopped. There was no alternative, after all.
Lifting up a small piece of wood, a carving of the Immortal which Faith had been working on, she continued to work the wood as she spoke in prayer. "In your name, I will try my best to be as strong as the stone, as fertile of mind as the soil. Holy Moseke, your gifts to me have been so many," Faith's hands worked, slowly and carefully carving the shape of the Immortal ~ she had seen Moseke last on the trial that Faith and Padraig had wed; Moseke had been there, as had Famula, Vri and Qylios. It bordered on overwhelming, Faith thought, because it was so very humbling. "There is no greater gift than hope, and that was what you gave me, the first time we met." In Ne'haer, a gentle stroke of the cheek and Faith had felt the hope that they would succeed.
What was difficult, she considered, was capturing the awe-inspiring nature of the Immortals. In the form of a mortal, when face to face with them there was very obviously nothing at all mortal about them and that was a tough essence to catch. Faith was used to working with fine instruments, and that was what she used now; her chisel was tiny, a real precision instrument and she was using it to very, very carefully carve tiny details.
"And I must ask your help again, Holy Moseke, in a war."