![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
byakkomaru[ No one comes to the temples of the Fayth anymore, not since Sin was ended and the Eternal Calm began — at least, no one comes to the temples for their intended purposes. No summoners enter the halls and brave the trials to reach the inner sanctums and call upon the guardians of the world. No, now the temples serve as memorials, places of remembrance for the hardships that came before and the sacrifices given to free Spira from that chain of tragedy. They serve as places of worship still, but now their halls are filled with celebration instead of solemn desperation. In the temples, the Fayth come to dream again for a single night of the year, and the people of Spira come to meet them, to give thanks.
Shinya thinks the whole thing is terribly boring.
Oh, the festival is nice enough, and while he may not be a real Hiiragi, he's treated with the same sort of worshipful awe that the rest of the family receives. If he wanted, he could be the prince of the temple for an evening, given treats, pastries in the shape of aeons past, or fizzy, bubbling things to drink, afforded a place at the front of the crowd to watch the performance honoring the temple's Fayth. He could even be up on stage, balanced on the shining golden idol meant to stand in for Alexander, playing the role of holy summoner granted the aeon's favor. If he wanted.
He does not. Instead, Shinya's shrugged out of the heavy formal robes that mark his status, left them abandoned in some unnoticed corner of the hallowed halls. Without them, in only a long, thin shirt and leggings, he looks like any other seven year old come to celebrate for the night. That suits him much better, lets him wander through the temple unnoticed, no one begging for his attention or fawning at his feet. He can observe instead of be at the center of the fuss.
Which leaves him in the perfect position to notice the dark-haired boy sneaking away from the festivities — sneaking into the hallway that leads directly to the temple's Cloister of Trials.
Shinya grins and sneaks after him, his footsteps silent on the stone floor. It's only when the boy pauses in front of the door and its trick lock that he makes his presence known. ]
You need a special key to open that, you know.
Shinya thinks the whole thing is terribly boring.
Oh, the festival is nice enough, and while he may not be a real Hiiragi, he's treated with the same sort of worshipful awe that the rest of the family receives. If he wanted, he could be the prince of the temple for an evening, given treats, pastries in the shape of aeons past, or fizzy, bubbling things to drink, afforded a place at the front of the crowd to watch the performance honoring the temple's Fayth. He could even be up on stage, balanced on the shining golden idol meant to stand in for Alexander, playing the role of holy summoner granted the aeon's favor. If he wanted.
He does not. Instead, Shinya's shrugged out of the heavy formal robes that mark his status, left them abandoned in some unnoticed corner of the hallowed halls. Without them, in only a long, thin shirt and leggings, he looks like any other seven year old come to celebrate for the night. That suits him much better, lets him wander through the temple unnoticed, no one begging for his attention or fawning at his feet. He can observe instead of be at the center of the fuss.
Which leaves him in the perfect position to notice the dark-haired boy sneaking away from the festivities — sneaking into the hallway that leads directly to the temple's Cloister of Trials.
Shinya grins and sneaks after him, his footsteps silent on the stone floor. It's only when the boy pauses in front of the door and its trick lock that he makes his presence known. ]
You need a special key to open that, you know.
