![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
Title: Object of Devotion
Fandom: Binan Koukou Chikyuu Boueibu LOVE! | Cute High Earth Defense Club LOVE!
Rating: G
Relationship: Kusatsu Kinshirou/Kinugawa Atsushi
Summary: Almost one mortal year has passed since a kind-hearted human innkeeper became the beloved consort of the god of law and order. To mark the occasion, Aurite's high priest has prepared a gift for his lord, a powerful symbol of faith and devotion to both Aurite and Epinard. For Atsushi and Kinshirou, however, there is a much more personal meaning to Arima's chosen gift, and it's hard to imagine a more fitting present for their first anniversary.
(Inspired by![[archiveofourown.org profile]](https://p.dreamwidth.org/b164c54b26e4/-/archiveofourown.org/favicon.ico)
SilvorMoon's Mythology of Love AU, set one year after the events of The Cloverleaf Inn.)
Notes: Happy to post this at last, having finished it during a writing sprint a few months ago and then promptly dithering about it before asking the author for kind permission to play around in this particular AU sandbox. With much gratitude and appreciation for a wonderful set of stories! (Also on AO3.)
Object of Devotion
If there was one thing that the gods and goddesses of heaven's pantheon generally agreed upon, it was that there was no one right way for mortals to express their faith. A prayer said while on one's knees before an altar was not necessarily any more sincere or deserving of divine attention than one expressed as a hearty toast among friends, or whispered over a dying person's bedside, or uttered in the heat of battle. What was appropriate in one situation, for one particular deity, would not necessarily be appropriate for another, and so the gods' expectations for their worshippers were as numerous and varied as the gods themselves.
Some of the gods had the reputation of being more approachable than others, or at least were more likely to be approached when it came to matters of daily life. Sulfur was the natural choice of those who wished to be successful and prosperous, and Vesta was never short of offerings from those who hoped to be lucky in love. Other deities found their help being sought in more specific trials or difficulties suited to their strengths. A man anxious over his wife's difficult pregnancy might trust in the midwife's skills, and yet still seek out Pearlite's nearest temple to beg him to protect the new life that they hoped to bring into the world. A woman who had not slept well since her parents' deaths might easily take her grief to one of Cerulean's drowsy but kindly priests for guidance in understanding her troubled dreams. Regardless of one's personal sense of piety, most people felt that the gods were on their side and would listen to their prayers -- though one could never be sure that the prayers would be answered in exactly the way that one anticipated.
One of the gods, however, was something of an exception to this rule.
As one of the oldest and most powerful of the pantheon, whose word was said to be subordinate only to the mysterious designs of Fate and Chance in the workings of the universe, there was a sense that the great god Aurite was not one to be bothered with the more trivial aspects of human affairs. Important matters of law and order were certainly in his domain, and his priests exercised his divine authority to officiate at weddings, act as executors of a deceased person's estate, or settle legal questions in hopes of averting the time and expense of a lawsuit. But whether Aurite's priests were providing counsel, arbitrating disputes, or comforting the troubled, they always seemed to stand in for the more unapproachable figure of Aurite himself.
Unapproachable, in fact, was a mild way of putting it. Few could look upon the golden statue of Aurite that graced his temples' altars without feeling some quiver of awestruck fear. No one could forget that he was the god who stood in judgment over all men and women at the close of their lives, where everything they had done -- or failed to do -- would be laid bare for his final examination. He could not be bribed or bargained with: his sentence was absolute. Even those who consciences were relatively clean sometimes found themselves worrying about what Aurite would say to them on that fateful day. And for those who had been badly treated by life, who felt that they had exhausted any hope of help in the mortal world, it was all too easy to believe that the last thing they would see before they plunged into the Abyss was Aurite's unforgiving gaze, sealing their soul's damnation with a blaze of cold green fire.
To some extent, however, that particular state of affairs was beginning to change.
To a large extent, it had started with a triptych.
* * * *
The triptych was simple in concept, able to be reproduced on a modest scale for a family's private shrine or in much grander dimensions for a public venue, such as the wall behind the judge's bench in a city's high court. Most temples to Aurite, and the small but growing number dedicated to his consort Epinard, had begun to acquire them as well, as word of their marriage had spread throughout the lands. Usually, the triptych would be installed not far from the main altar, sometimes in a dedicated side chapel for worshippers who wished to pay their respects to the holy couple during a visit to seek the aid of one or the other. Arima, the high priest of Aurite, had even written a simple prayer that could be addressed to both gods -- the result of divine inspiration, it was rumoured, granted by Aurite in appreciation for his favoured servant's role in introducing Epinard to the world. But whether the triptych was made of a few pieces of painted wood or a king's ransom in precious stones and metals, the images on its three panels were always the same.
The left panel showed Aurite, sharp-faced and severe in his dark, austere robes, looking every inch in his element as the giver of law and bringer of order. His golden bow, the symbol of his swift and unerring justice, was in his hand. His other hand was held aloft, commanding all who stood before him to plead their cases and heed the verdict he would deliver.
The right panel showed Epinard, far more welcoming in verdant green. With a book cradled in one arm and his free hand held out in clear invitation, he smiled down upon the heartsick supplicant or weary traveller with a look of genuine kindness and concern. And where Aurite radiated impersonal, incorruptible power, Epinard seemed the living embodiment of shelter, a constant source of support in the midst of the cruelty and strife that so often plagued the mortal world.
And last, in the centre panel, the two were united, side by side in their glory, their faces near-identical in solemn resolve. Aurite, to the right of the onlooker, had his bow in hand with an arrow on the string, drawn with the intent to mete out his sentence -- were it not for the fact that Epinard, standing to Aurite's right, had reached out to place one hand on his beloved's draw arm, prepared to stay the arrow's flight.
Justice, tempered with mercy.
It was a powerful reminder to all who looked upon it, especially to those who had brought their troubles to the higher authority of a temple or court of law. Many a seeker of Aurite's retribution was checked from the initial heat of anger by the sight of Epinard's silent caution. Many a petitioner for Epinard's intercession searched their hearts at the sight of Aurite's stern countenance, aware that only so much would be forgiven in the eyes of the gods. But most took some sense of peace from it, a feeling that no matter what might come to pass, Aurite's principles and Epinard's benevolence would be upheld.
* * * *
'...and so I thought you'd want one for yourselves,' Arima finished, in a bit of a rush.
Atsushi was usually an attentive listener, but for the past few minutes he had barely heard a word that Arima had said. He couldn't stop staring at the triptych that was now resting in his lap, a solid weight in his hands.
Neither he nor Kinshirou had expected anything like this when they had dropped in to see Arima in his study at the great temple in the City of the Seven Pillars. It was all part of the visiting routine they'd settled into some months before, once the initial flurry of activity over the fate of the Cloverleaf Inn had wound down and the first temple of Epinard was up and running. True to form, Arima had had tea ready for them, and he had served it with a plate of Kinshirou's preferred candied red beans and a bowl of spiced sweetened nuts that Atsushi particularly enjoyed. The tea was steeped perfectly; the snacks were just the right accompaniment. But Arima had seemed a little fidgety, a little nervous, during the first few minutes of light conversation while they enjoyed their cups of tea. And then, before Kinshirou could ask for a second cup, Arima had excused himself briefly and disappeared into his bedroom, only to return with a bundle in his arms, wrapped in snow-white linen.
Atsushi would be the first to admit that the triptych was a beautiful piece of craftsmanship. The whole thing was the size of a large book, with side panels that opened out on small but sturdy hinges. The light-coloured wood had been carved so that the figures stood out in lifelike detail; each fold of their robes seemed to ripple like real fabric, and equally close attention had been paid to the shape and expression of their hands and faces. The frames of the panels were worked with delicately intertwined gold and silver leaf, and smooth glossy paint and small inlaid chips of semiprecious stones lent bright, shimmering touches to the images.
It was just the sort of skilled work that Atsushi knew Kinshirou would appreciate -- well made without being gaudy, constructed with thoughtfulness and care. And Kinshirou did seem to appreciate it, if the small, admiring intake of breath he'd made at the first sight of it had been any indication. Which was all the more reason why Atsushi was startled when Kinshirou looked up from the triptych and said, quite seriously:
'Not that it displeases me, Arima, but I see little need for us to have one.'
Atsushi frowned. 'Kinshirou, that's hardly gracious of you,' he chided, his voice sharper than most anyone, mortal or divine, normally heard him speak.
Kinshirou blinked, surprised by the force of Atsushi's rebuke, but even he quickly understood how cold his words had sounded just then. 'All I meant,' he said hastily, 'was that it would be somewhat odd for us to have it in the Heavenly City when it could be put to better use for its intended purposes on earth. It is an object of devotion, after all; it ought to be used as such.'
His logic was as perfect as it was exasperating. Atsushi was undaunted. 'But we should think of it as an anniversary present, shouldn't we?' He covered Kinshirou's hand with his own, meaningfully. 'Our first one, in fact.'
'Ah...well, er, yes.' This was something that Kinshirou hadn't considered, though judging by the flush that came into his face he felt that it was by no means a bad thing to contemplate. 'There is that, of course.'
Atsushi gave his husband's hand a brief squeeze, then turned back to Arima, who had been watching them in uncertain silence. 'I think it's lovely, Arima,' he said, with his warmest smile. 'Thank you so much for giving it to us. Whoever you commissioned to make it did a wonderful job at capturing our likenesses.' The smile turned playful, and ever-so-slightly wicked. 'Especially Kinshirou's -- it makes him look only a little less terrifying than he likes to pretend to be.'
'I do not -- ' Kinshirou began heatedly, until he realized that Atsushi was teasing him. He let out a breath, closing his eyes as he collected himself and his dignity. When he opened them again, however, there was nothing but deep, sincere approval in his gaze as he looked at Arima. 'Thank you, Arima,' he said. 'Please forgive my earlier thoughtlessness. It is indeed a lovely gift, and we would be honoured to accept it.'
Atsushi's initial kind words had helped smooth away some of the worry that had started to settle on Arima's face, but Kinshirou's praise made it vanish in a blaze of relief and joy. 'My lord does me the true honour in accepting it,' he said, bowing his head.
Kinshirou nodded regally, as Aurite accepted his servant's gratitude with all due decorum. Atsushi, however, gave Arima a tiny wink when he raised his head again. 'Ryuu is going to love seeing it on a shelf in your bedroom,' he said to Kinshirou, just to see his jaw twitch. 'I should ask him to say a blessing over it.'
'I should think,' Kinshirou said, dry as dust, 'that Vesta will do so without your having to ask for one -- and with as much excessive ceremony as possible.' But a thought seemed to strike him, and he turned an interested eye on Arima. 'If these triptychs are becoming more popular in the temples, as you mention, then I suppose we should accommodate the interest of the faithful. It might even be wise to consider formally amending the liturgical calendar to incorporate a litany to the two of us into the divine offices.'
Arima leaned forward, an eager light in his own eyes as he began to consider the possibilities. 'I had not thought of anything quite so official as that, yet, but if you have any suggestions for how such a thing might best be done....'
As Aurite and his high priest settled in to talk shop, Atsushi gazed down at the triptych again. He ran his fingers over the three carved panels, painted and gilded and inlaid with such loving care. He knew, in the strange, sudden way that only gods knew things, that Arima had a second smaller copy of the triptych that he kept close by him at all times, whether waking or sleeping. It was still a little disconcerting to think of the man who had been a friend in mortal life gazing upon his likeness with even a fragment of the reverence that had always been reserved for Aurite alone, but their friendship made Atsushi appreciate that fragment all the more. Arima had a heavy burden to bear as Aurite's high priest, a weight of duty that few mortals would ever feel, and for all that he bore it willingly and cheerfully Atsushi knew how seriously he took his responsibilities. The thought that someone like Arima might look to him for divine help in this life made Atsushi want to do everything he could to live up to those expectations.
You'll always have my ear, Arima, he thought. Not that I imagine you'll need it, but I'll do my best to help you in any way I can, with the power I've been given. The tips of his fingers brushed the middle panel, at the point where Epinard's hand rested on Aurite's arm. And it can't hurt us to have a reminder of how much we need each other -- and how much others need us. If this is an object of devotion, let it be our devotion to each other that gives it real power.
'Atsushi?' Kinshirou's voice penetrated his thoughts. 'Are you listening?'
'Mm?' Atsushi looked up, blinking quickly as he came back to himself. 'Sorry, what was that?'
'I was asking,' Kinshirou said, with evident patience for his husband's absentmindedness, 'if you had any thoughts about a possible ritual that might best draw your attention to an offering made to both of us.' He picked up his cup and took the last sip of tea in it, and had scarcely set it down again before Arima moved to refill it. 'I know you aren't one for formality in these matters, but it might comfort someone to go through the prescribed motions if they felt that, in doing so, there was a greater certainty that we would hear them.'
'I've had letters from other priests, asking what they should tell their parishioners.' Arima added a splash of fresh tea to Atsushi's cup as well. 'You're both in demand.'
'Oh.' It did make sense, when Atsushi thought about it. It wouldn't be at all bad to make things easier for people who needed their help. And it did remind him of a conversation he'd had not so very long ago. 'I was discussing something about rituals with Endou, the last time we spoke. It isn't much, but maybe...?' He trailed off awkwardly, looking between Arima and Kinshirou for confirmation.
'Please,' Kinshirou said, gesturing to him to continue, and Arima nodded agreement.
'I still don't want anyone to feel like they have to go through a lot to get my attention. Or our joint attention, for that matter.' Considering the sorts of rites that he knew Aurite's priests often went through for just this purpose, he supposed that to both Kinshirou and Arima it probably sounded a bit ridiculous to insist otherwise, but Atsushi was firm on this matter. 'If you think it would help, though...I suppose I'd want them to light a candle. Something for them to focus on. And then maybe they should have their request written on a slip of paper, if possible, and once they've sat and thought about what they really want from us, they'd light the slip from the candle flame and place it on the offering tray. That way, their request stays private, between us and them. Even if the paper's blank, it'll still act as part of the offering.'
Arima nodded again. He had the look of someone who was committing every second of this conversation to memory. Kinshirou was the one who followed up with a question. 'Should they say anything when they do so?' he asked.
Atsushi looked down at the triptych again, searching for the answer in the trio of images before him. Thoughts tumbled through his head as he gazed at it, whirling past him like fallen leaves stirred by the wind. Law and order. Forgiveness and generosity. The relief and gratitude of those who had thought that all hope was lost. The heady scent of green tea and incense, intertwined with the warm aroma of fresh-baked bread and newly mown grass. A flash of light reflecting off a golden arrow. His hand on Kinshirou's arm, ready to urge caution in judgment. The beautiful gift they had been given here, and the still more beautiful gift they had been given in each other. The second chance at life -- for Atsushi in particular, but for Kinshirou no less so -- that Fate and Chance had seen fit to grant them.
'May true justice and true mercy be shown to those who ask for it, in life and in death, as Aurite and Epinard may will it to be,' he said slowly, as the words seemed to form themselves in his mind. There was power behind them, and command, and absolute will -- all of which seemed to fade into the background when he looked over at Kinshirou with an apprehensive expression. 'Does that work?'
'Simple, but effective,' Kinshirou said with a nod. 'I think it's just fine.' Across from him, Arima let out a quiet breath and bowed his head, humbly absorbing the weight of the moment he had been privileged to witness.
Atsushi smiled back, relieved. 'Oh, good,' he said. 'I'll be sure to mention it to Endou when I stop by Binan this evening.' The mention of Binan jogged his memory, and made him realise just how far the slanting sunlight had shifted across the floor of Arima's study. 'Speaking of which, I ought to leave now if I want to catch him before tonight's service. He should know about this before anyone else does.'
All three of them got to their feet at the same time. As Arima collected the tea things, Kinshirou held out his hand to Atsushi for the triptych. 'I'll take our gift back with me, unless you'd like to show it to Endou first.'
'I'll tell him about it tonight, and show it to him another time,' Atsushi said. He folded the side panels inward to protect the artwork during transport, and let Kinshirou take it from his hands. 'I don't want him to think that he absolutely has to give us an anniversary present, too.'
'Very well,' Kinshirou settled the triptych in the crook of his arm. 'Considering the lateness of the hour, I think I will stay here to observe the evening service. I trust that will pose no difficulties?' he added, glancing over at Arima. They all knew the answer, of course, but Atsushi suspected that Kinshirou was attempting to make up for some of his earlier discourtesy by going to an extra effort to be considerate.
If Arima knew this -- and Atsushi didn't doubt for a second that he did -- it had no effect on his own visible happiness at the prospect of Aurite himself gracing the evening service with his divine presence. 'Not in the least, my lord.'
Satisfied, Kinshirou looked back at Atsushi. 'Go on, then. I'll see you at home.'
Atsushi nodded, then gave Arima a final smile. 'Thank you again, Arima,' he said. 'I'll be sure to let you know what Endou thinks; the two of you can work out the proper rituals together, I'm sure of it.'
As he vanished from sight, he found himself wondering what it would feel like to receive the first offering, and to hear the first request directed to both of them through the prayer that he had created. It was exciting and sobering and and terrifying and intriguing all at the same time. He was still a novice at this whole business of being a god, and even with Kinshirou to guide him in heaven and Endou to manage affairs on earth, he knew that he still had a lot to learn. But now with the triptych as a symbol of the faith and trust placed in him and Kinshirou...no matter what it was, he promised himself, he would be ready to devote himself to it completely.
Return to the Master List
Fandom: Binan Koukou Chikyuu Boueibu LOVE! | Cute High Earth Defense Club LOVE!
Rating: G
Relationship: Kusatsu Kinshirou/Kinugawa Atsushi
Summary: Almost one mortal year has passed since a kind-hearted human innkeeper became the beloved consort of the god of law and order. To mark the occasion, Aurite's high priest has prepared a gift for his lord, a powerful symbol of faith and devotion to both Aurite and Epinard. For Atsushi and Kinshirou, however, there is a much more personal meaning to Arima's chosen gift, and it's hard to imagine a more fitting present for their first anniversary.
(Inspired by
Notes: Happy to post this at last, having finished it during a writing sprint a few months ago and then promptly dithering about it before asking the author for kind permission to play around in this particular AU sandbox. With much gratitude and appreciation for a wonderful set of stories! (Also on AO3.)
Object of Devotion
If there was one thing that the gods and goddesses of heaven's pantheon generally agreed upon, it was that there was no one right way for mortals to express their faith. A prayer said while on one's knees before an altar was not necessarily any more sincere or deserving of divine attention than one expressed as a hearty toast among friends, or whispered over a dying person's bedside, or uttered in the heat of battle. What was appropriate in one situation, for one particular deity, would not necessarily be appropriate for another, and so the gods' expectations for their worshippers were as numerous and varied as the gods themselves.
Some of the gods had the reputation of being more approachable than others, or at least were more likely to be approached when it came to matters of daily life. Sulfur was the natural choice of those who wished to be successful and prosperous, and Vesta was never short of offerings from those who hoped to be lucky in love. Other deities found their help being sought in more specific trials or difficulties suited to their strengths. A man anxious over his wife's difficult pregnancy might trust in the midwife's skills, and yet still seek out Pearlite's nearest temple to beg him to protect the new life that they hoped to bring into the world. A woman who had not slept well since her parents' deaths might easily take her grief to one of Cerulean's drowsy but kindly priests for guidance in understanding her troubled dreams. Regardless of one's personal sense of piety, most people felt that the gods were on their side and would listen to their prayers -- though one could never be sure that the prayers would be answered in exactly the way that one anticipated.
One of the gods, however, was something of an exception to this rule.
As one of the oldest and most powerful of the pantheon, whose word was said to be subordinate only to the mysterious designs of Fate and Chance in the workings of the universe, there was a sense that the great god Aurite was not one to be bothered with the more trivial aspects of human affairs. Important matters of law and order were certainly in his domain, and his priests exercised his divine authority to officiate at weddings, act as executors of a deceased person's estate, or settle legal questions in hopes of averting the time and expense of a lawsuit. But whether Aurite's priests were providing counsel, arbitrating disputes, or comforting the troubled, they always seemed to stand in for the more unapproachable figure of Aurite himself.
Unapproachable, in fact, was a mild way of putting it. Few could look upon the golden statue of Aurite that graced his temples' altars without feeling some quiver of awestruck fear. No one could forget that he was the god who stood in judgment over all men and women at the close of their lives, where everything they had done -- or failed to do -- would be laid bare for his final examination. He could not be bribed or bargained with: his sentence was absolute. Even those who consciences were relatively clean sometimes found themselves worrying about what Aurite would say to them on that fateful day. And for those who had been badly treated by life, who felt that they had exhausted any hope of help in the mortal world, it was all too easy to believe that the last thing they would see before they plunged into the Abyss was Aurite's unforgiving gaze, sealing their soul's damnation with a blaze of cold green fire.
To some extent, however, that particular state of affairs was beginning to change.
To a large extent, it had started with a triptych.
The triptych was simple in concept, able to be reproduced on a modest scale for a family's private shrine or in much grander dimensions for a public venue, such as the wall behind the judge's bench in a city's high court. Most temples to Aurite, and the small but growing number dedicated to his consort Epinard, had begun to acquire them as well, as word of their marriage had spread throughout the lands. Usually, the triptych would be installed not far from the main altar, sometimes in a dedicated side chapel for worshippers who wished to pay their respects to the holy couple during a visit to seek the aid of one or the other. Arima, the high priest of Aurite, had even written a simple prayer that could be addressed to both gods -- the result of divine inspiration, it was rumoured, granted by Aurite in appreciation for his favoured servant's role in introducing Epinard to the world. But whether the triptych was made of a few pieces of painted wood or a king's ransom in precious stones and metals, the images on its three panels were always the same.
The left panel showed Aurite, sharp-faced and severe in his dark, austere robes, looking every inch in his element as the giver of law and bringer of order. His golden bow, the symbol of his swift and unerring justice, was in his hand. His other hand was held aloft, commanding all who stood before him to plead their cases and heed the verdict he would deliver.
The right panel showed Epinard, far more welcoming in verdant green. With a book cradled in one arm and his free hand held out in clear invitation, he smiled down upon the heartsick supplicant or weary traveller with a look of genuine kindness and concern. And where Aurite radiated impersonal, incorruptible power, Epinard seemed the living embodiment of shelter, a constant source of support in the midst of the cruelty and strife that so often plagued the mortal world.
And last, in the centre panel, the two were united, side by side in their glory, their faces near-identical in solemn resolve. Aurite, to the right of the onlooker, had his bow in hand with an arrow on the string, drawn with the intent to mete out his sentence -- were it not for the fact that Epinard, standing to Aurite's right, had reached out to place one hand on his beloved's draw arm, prepared to stay the arrow's flight.
Justice, tempered with mercy.
It was a powerful reminder to all who looked upon it, especially to those who had brought their troubles to the higher authority of a temple or court of law. Many a seeker of Aurite's retribution was checked from the initial heat of anger by the sight of Epinard's silent caution. Many a petitioner for Epinard's intercession searched their hearts at the sight of Aurite's stern countenance, aware that only so much would be forgiven in the eyes of the gods. But most took some sense of peace from it, a feeling that no matter what might come to pass, Aurite's principles and Epinard's benevolence would be upheld.
'...and so I thought you'd want one for yourselves,' Arima finished, in a bit of a rush.
Atsushi was usually an attentive listener, but for the past few minutes he had barely heard a word that Arima had said. He couldn't stop staring at the triptych that was now resting in his lap, a solid weight in his hands.
Neither he nor Kinshirou had expected anything like this when they had dropped in to see Arima in his study at the great temple in the City of the Seven Pillars. It was all part of the visiting routine they'd settled into some months before, once the initial flurry of activity over the fate of the Cloverleaf Inn had wound down and the first temple of Epinard was up and running. True to form, Arima had had tea ready for them, and he had served it with a plate of Kinshirou's preferred candied red beans and a bowl of spiced sweetened nuts that Atsushi particularly enjoyed. The tea was steeped perfectly; the snacks were just the right accompaniment. But Arima had seemed a little fidgety, a little nervous, during the first few minutes of light conversation while they enjoyed their cups of tea. And then, before Kinshirou could ask for a second cup, Arima had excused himself briefly and disappeared into his bedroom, only to return with a bundle in his arms, wrapped in snow-white linen.
Atsushi would be the first to admit that the triptych was a beautiful piece of craftsmanship. The whole thing was the size of a large book, with side panels that opened out on small but sturdy hinges. The light-coloured wood had been carved so that the figures stood out in lifelike detail; each fold of their robes seemed to ripple like real fabric, and equally close attention had been paid to the shape and expression of their hands and faces. The frames of the panels were worked with delicately intertwined gold and silver leaf, and smooth glossy paint and small inlaid chips of semiprecious stones lent bright, shimmering touches to the images.
It was just the sort of skilled work that Atsushi knew Kinshirou would appreciate -- well made without being gaudy, constructed with thoughtfulness and care. And Kinshirou did seem to appreciate it, if the small, admiring intake of breath he'd made at the first sight of it had been any indication. Which was all the more reason why Atsushi was startled when Kinshirou looked up from the triptych and said, quite seriously:
'Not that it displeases me, Arima, but I see little need for us to have one.'
Atsushi frowned. 'Kinshirou, that's hardly gracious of you,' he chided, his voice sharper than most anyone, mortal or divine, normally heard him speak.
Kinshirou blinked, surprised by the force of Atsushi's rebuke, but even he quickly understood how cold his words had sounded just then. 'All I meant,' he said hastily, 'was that it would be somewhat odd for us to have it in the Heavenly City when it could be put to better use for its intended purposes on earth. It is an object of devotion, after all; it ought to be used as such.'
His logic was as perfect as it was exasperating. Atsushi was undaunted. 'But we should think of it as an anniversary present, shouldn't we?' He covered Kinshirou's hand with his own, meaningfully. 'Our first one, in fact.'
'Ah...well, er, yes.' This was something that Kinshirou hadn't considered, though judging by the flush that came into his face he felt that it was by no means a bad thing to contemplate. 'There is that, of course.'
Atsushi gave his husband's hand a brief squeeze, then turned back to Arima, who had been watching them in uncertain silence. 'I think it's lovely, Arima,' he said, with his warmest smile. 'Thank you so much for giving it to us. Whoever you commissioned to make it did a wonderful job at capturing our likenesses.' The smile turned playful, and ever-so-slightly wicked. 'Especially Kinshirou's -- it makes him look only a little less terrifying than he likes to pretend to be.'
'I do not -- ' Kinshirou began heatedly, until he realized that Atsushi was teasing him. He let out a breath, closing his eyes as he collected himself and his dignity. When he opened them again, however, there was nothing but deep, sincere approval in his gaze as he looked at Arima. 'Thank you, Arima,' he said. 'Please forgive my earlier thoughtlessness. It is indeed a lovely gift, and we would be honoured to accept it.'
Atsushi's initial kind words had helped smooth away some of the worry that had started to settle on Arima's face, but Kinshirou's praise made it vanish in a blaze of relief and joy. 'My lord does me the true honour in accepting it,' he said, bowing his head.
Kinshirou nodded regally, as Aurite accepted his servant's gratitude with all due decorum. Atsushi, however, gave Arima a tiny wink when he raised his head again. 'Ryuu is going to love seeing it on a shelf in your bedroom,' he said to Kinshirou, just to see his jaw twitch. 'I should ask him to say a blessing over it.'
'I should think,' Kinshirou said, dry as dust, 'that Vesta will do so without your having to ask for one -- and with as much excessive ceremony as possible.' But a thought seemed to strike him, and he turned an interested eye on Arima. 'If these triptychs are becoming more popular in the temples, as you mention, then I suppose we should accommodate the interest of the faithful. It might even be wise to consider formally amending the liturgical calendar to incorporate a litany to the two of us into the divine offices.'
Arima leaned forward, an eager light in his own eyes as he began to consider the possibilities. 'I had not thought of anything quite so official as that, yet, but if you have any suggestions for how such a thing might best be done....'
As Aurite and his high priest settled in to talk shop, Atsushi gazed down at the triptych again. He ran his fingers over the three carved panels, painted and gilded and inlaid with such loving care. He knew, in the strange, sudden way that only gods knew things, that Arima had a second smaller copy of the triptych that he kept close by him at all times, whether waking or sleeping. It was still a little disconcerting to think of the man who had been a friend in mortal life gazing upon his likeness with even a fragment of the reverence that had always been reserved for Aurite alone, but their friendship made Atsushi appreciate that fragment all the more. Arima had a heavy burden to bear as Aurite's high priest, a weight of duty that few mortals would ever feel, and for all that he bore it willingly and cheerfully Atsushi knew how seriously he took his responsibilities. The thought that someone like Arima might look to him for divine help in this life made Atsushi want to do everything he could to live up to those expectations.
You'll always have my ear, Arima, he thought. Not that I imagine you'll need it, but I'll do my best to help you in any way I can, with the power I've been given. The tips of his fingers brushed the middle panel, at the point where Epinard's hand rested on Aurite's arm. And it can't hurt us to have a reminder of how much we need each other -- and how much others need us. If this is an object of devotion, let it be our devotion to each other that gives it real power.
'Atsushi?' Kinshirou's voice penetrated his thoughts. 'Are you listening?'
'Mm?' Atsushi looked up, blinking quickly as he came back to himself. 'Sorry, what was that?'
'I was asking,' Kinshirou said, with evident patience for his husband's absentmindedness, 'if you had any thoughts about a possible ritual that might best draw your attention to an offering made to both of us.' He picked up his cup and took the last sip of tea in it, and had scarcely set it down again before Arima moved to refill it. 'I know you aren't one for formality in these matters, but it might comfort someone to go through the prescribed motions if they felt that, in doing so, there was a greater certainty that we would hear them.'
'I've had letters from other priests, asking what they should tell their parishioners.' Arima added a splash of fresh tea to Atsushi's cup as well. 'You're both in demand.'
'Oh.' It did make sense, when Atsushi thought about it. It wouldn't be at all bad to make things easier for people who needed their help. And it did remind him of a conversation he'd had not so very long ago. 'I was discussing something about rituals with Endou, the last time we spoke. It isn't much, but maybe...?' He trailed off awkwardly, looking between Arima and Kinshirou for confirmation.
'Please,' Kinshirou said, gesturing to him to continue, and Arima nodded agreement.
'I still don't want anyone to feel like they have to go through a lot to get my attention. Or our joint attention, for that matter.' Considering the sorts of rites that he knew Aurite's priests often went through for just this purpose, he supposed that to both Kinshirou and Arima it probably sounded a bit ridiculous to insist otherwise, but Atsushi was firm on this matter. 'If you think it would help, though...I suppose I'd want them to light a candle. Something for them to focus on. And then maybe they should have their request written on a slip of paper, if possible, and once they've sat and thought about what they really want from us, they'd light the slip from the candle flame and place it on the offering tray. That way, their request stays private, between us and them. Even if the paper's blank, it'll still act as part of the offering.'
Arima nodded again. He had the look of someone who was committing every second of this conversation to memory. Kinshirou was the one who followed up with a question. 'Should they say anything when they do so?' he asked.
Atsushi looked down at the triptych again, searching for the answer in the trio of images before him. Thoughts tumbled through his head as he gazed at it, whirling past him like fallen leaves stirred by the wind. Law and order. Forgiveness and generosity. The relief and gratitude of those who had thought that all hope was lost. The heady scent of green tea and incense, intertwined with the warm aroma of fresh-baked bread and newly mown grass. A flash of light reflecting off a golden arrow. His hand on Kinshirou's arm, ready to urge caution in judgment. The beautiful gift they had been given here, and the still more beautiful gift they had been given in each other. The second chance at life -- for Atsushi in particular, but for Kinshirou no less so -- that Fate and Chance had seen fit to grant them.
'May true justice and true mercy be shown to those who ask for it, in life and in death, as Aurite and Epinard may will it to be,' he said slowly, as the words seemed to form themselves in his mind. There was power behind them, and command, and absolute will -- all of which seemed to fade into the background when he looked over at Kinshirou with an apprehensive expression. 'Does that work?'
'Simple, but effective,' Kinshirou said with a nod. 'I think it's just fine.' Across from him, Arima let out a quiet breath and bowed his head, humbly absorbing the weight of the moment he had been privileged to witness.
Atsushi smiled back, relieved. 'Oh, good,' he said. 'I'll be sure to mention it to Endou when I stop by Binan this evening.' The mention of Binan jogged his memory, and made him realise just how far the slanting sunlight had shifted across the floor of Arima's study. 'Speaking of which, I ought to leave now if I want to catch him before tonight's service. He should know about this before anyone else does.'
All three of them got to their feet at the same time. As Arima collected the tea things, Kinshirou held out his hand to Atsushi for the triptych. 'I'll take our gift back with me, unless you'd like to show it to Endou first.'
'I'll tell him about it tonight, and show it to him another time,' Atsushi said. He folded the side panels inward to protect the artwork during transport, and let Kinshirou take it from his hands. 'I don't want him to think that he absolutely has to give us an anniversary present, too.'
'Very well,' Kinshirou settled the triptych in the crook of his arm. 'Considering the lateness of the hour, I think I will stay here to observe the evening service. I trust that will pose no difficulties?' he added, glancing over at Arima. They all knew the answer, of course, but Atsushi suspected that Kinshirou was attempting to make up for some of his earlier discourtesy by going to an extra effort to be considerate.
If Arima knew this -- and Atsushi didn't doubt for a second that he did -- it had no effect on his own visible happiness at the prospect of Aurite himself gracing the evening service with his divine presence. 'Not in the least, my lord.'
Satisfied, Kinshirou looked back at Atsushi. 'Go on, then. I'll see you at home.'
Atsushi nodded, then gave Arima a final smile. 'Thank you again, Arima,' he said. 'I'll be sure to let you know what Endou thinks; the two of you can work out the proper rituals together, I'm sure of it.'
As he vanished from sight, he found himself wondering what it would feel like to receive the first offering, and to hear the first request directed to both of them through the prayer that he had created. It was exciting and sobering and and terrifying and intriguing all at the same time. He was still a novice at this whole business of being a god, and even with Kinshirou to guide him in heaven and Endou to manage affairs on earth, he knew that he still had a lot to learn. But now with the triptych as a symbol of the faith and trust placed in him and Kinshirou...no matter what it was, he promised himself, he would be ready to devote himself to it completely.
Return to the Master List
Tags: