<a work in progress>
Title: Reminiscence
A Familiar Smile
She said her name was Ishiiha, a Benn’jinn woman that claimed she was from the village at the foot of the mountain where the third temple of Ruchlam stood. Hamot sat by his daughter’s bedside while she dozes peacefully, despite her injuries. Memory of his late wife brought rolling through his mind, usually he tried to avoid thinking of her, of his dear Ishihanna, but that young woman he met at the temple reminded him of her so much that he couldn’t help it.
He had gone to the temple for last minute prayers before turning north with his army to approach the Clouded Mount Plateau and confront the dreaded beast Yomi. Hamot knew that the Third Temple erected by the Prophet Rachul was located just three miles off the main road that crossed Judea from Egypt, running east and west.
Accompanied with only his Major General and Chief Advisor he entered the temple. At the altar were three women. They were down on their knees deep in prayer when he and his men walked up and knelt beside them. Knowing that these women were mere commoners he merely glanced at them before commencing in his prayer and instantly saw her face.
He was instantly struck at how lovely she was, and by something else—Ishihanna?
He nearly flinched at the likeness he saw beside him. The women at was a Seirim with a small frame dressed in a dark cloak and veil the same dusty brown. The type of clothing worn by the impoverished, but he didn’t care it was her face. Ishihanna was also a Seirim, small and petit with dark hair, pale skin and the most delicate hooves and horns. This woman was the same, and at the similarity of their names, and even their mild, modest mannerisms—“I am praying for my son.” She said when he had asked. Ishihanna was always praying.
‘I pray for you.’ She would always say, ‘for your prosperity and good heath.’
For a moment he could have thought he heard her voice speaking back to him through this new woman, as they spoke.
“I see, for your son… is he involved in this battle?”
“He is, and I worry for him” she answered, this woman that looks so much like his Ishihanna, he could not help but talk to her. It brought up a sense of good nostalgia, a moment of peaceful reckoning before battle.
“I see, well your prayers are not wasted. He will feel them,” he said and then smiled at her. Sensing a bit of strength in her, said, “I can sense good will in you. I know he will be in good hands.”
She smiled back, and her face became forever glued to his mind.
Title: Reminiscence
A Familiar Smile
She said her name was Ishiiha, a Benn’jinn woman that claimed she was from the village at the foot of the mountain where the third temple of Ruchlam stood. Hamot sat by his daughter’s bedside while she dozes peacefully, despite her injuries. Memory of his late wife brought rolling through his mind, usually he tried to avoid thinking of her, of his dear Ishihanna, but that young woman he met at the temple reminded him of her so much that he couldn’t help it.
He had gone to the temple for last minute prayers before turning north with his army to approach the Clouded Mount Plateau and confront the dreaded beast Yomi. Hamot knew that the Third Temple erected by the Prophet Rachul was located just three miles off the main road that crossed Judea from Egypt, running east and west.
Accompanied with only his Major General and Chief Advisor he entered the temple. At the altar were three women. They were down on their knees deep in prayer when he and his men walked up and knelt beside them. Knowing that these women were mere commoners he merely glanced at them before commencing in his prayer and instantly saw her face.
He was instantly struck at how lovely she was, and by something else—Ishihanna?
He nearly flinched at the likeness he saw beside him. The women at was a Seirim with a small frame dressed in a dark cloak and veil the same dusty brown. The type of clothing worn by the impoverished, but he didn’t care it was her face. Ishihanna was also a Seirim, small and petit with dark hair, pale skin and the most delicate hooves and horns. This woman was the same, and at the similarity of their names, and even their mild, modest mannerisms—“I am praying for my son.” She said when he had asked. Ishihanna was always praying.
‘I pray for you.’ She would always say, ‘for your prosperity and good heath.’
For a moment he could have thought he heard her voice speaking back to him through this new woman, as they spoke.
“I see, for your son… is he involved in this battle?”
“He is, and I worry for him” she answered, this woman that looks so much like his Ishihanna, he could not help but talk to her. It brought up a sense of good nostalgia, a moment of peaceful reckoning before battle.
“I see, well your prayers are not wasted. He will feel them,” he said and then smiled at her. Sensing a bit of strength in her, said, “I can sense good will in you. I know he will be in good hands.”
She smiled back, and her face became forever glued to his mind.