Dorin's Observations : Elvish Prayer

[Riot 743]

The prayer was already underway when I arrived.

 

I had come late, coal dust still clinging to my hands, diamond grit worked into the seams of my trousers. The mines do not let go of you easily. Even so, no one turned me away. No one spoke of cleanliness or purity. I was simply… allowed to stand.

 

Magnolia led the prayer.

 

Her voice carried with it a steadiness that stilled the space around her, not loud, not commanding—just certain. She stood beside a wooden woman, carved or grown, I could not say, her form surrounded by many creeds of life. Feathers rested near the altar, laid with care. Each one felt deliberate, as though it carried a story I did not yet know.

 

The words spoke of letting the world guide you. Of allowing it to support you when you believe you have no strength left to give. It was not a demand of faith, but an offering of reassurance—that even those who doubt still belong, still endure.

 

By the time I arrived, the donations had begun.

 

A young girl stepped forward first. She did not hesitate. She offered her gift with quiet resolve, and I watched her hands carefully as she did so. There was no fear in her posture. Only trust.

 

I cleaned myself as best I could—scraping the coal from beneath my nails, brushing the diamond dust from my legs. It was never enough, but it was what I had. When the ritual knife was offered, I took it without ceremony and gave a measure of my own blood.

 

It felt… right.

 

After me, others came forward. A young elf. A hummingbird, small and vibrant. Each offering was different, yet none felt out of place.

I said nothing. I did not know what words would be fitting, and so I kept my silence unless spoken to. I watched instead.

 

As the prayer continued, something changed.

 

The woman of wood—the one who stood beside Magnolia—began to glow. Not suddenly, not fiercely, but gently, as though light itself had decided to rest within her grain.

She murmured the prayer along with Magnolia, her voice low, woven into the ritual like roots beneath soil.

 

I found myself in awe.

 

Not of power—but of harmony.

 

A young elf came and sat beside me then, careful not to disturb my focus. They did not speak. They did not ask questions. They simply shared the moment, respecting my fascination with the ceremony as though it were something sacred in its own right.

 

And so we listened.

 

The prayer moved through us like wind through leaves—steady, enduring, unbroken. For a time, the mines felt distant. The weight of stone eased from my shoulders.

 

I did not leave changed in any grand way.

 

But I left steadier.

 

And sometimes, that is more than enough.

Edited January 4 by Riot
Metaknowlege fix

[Chuuwys 502]

(lovingly written <3333)