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rainbowfic2025-01-31 11:29 pm
shadowsong26) wrote in rainbowfic2025-01-31 11:29 pm
Metallic Gold #10
Name: shadowsong26
Story: Victory to the Best of Us
'Verse: Untitled Intrigues Story
Colors: Metallic Gold #10. role
Supplies and Materials: graffiti (Two-Faced Janus), canvas
Word Count: 496
Rating: PG
Characters: Jemairin, Fahletya
Warnings: Politicking within a religious organization.
Notes: Constructive criticism welcome, as always.
So, there was to be an election. And both Jemairin and Fahletya knew it would come down to the two of them.
There were others on the Council with more seniority or deeper faith--of course, the last time a High Priestess or Priest had been elected primarily on the basis of devotion had been centuries ago--but none who had the talent, charisma, and political savvy necessary be able to gain a majority vote.
Fahletya was the better administrator, and there were some hints of a internal clouds gathering on the Church's horizon. She would be far more capable of keeping their own house in order and weathering that particular storm.
Jemairin, however, was the better diplomat, and the fragile peace forced down the throats of the old kings of Nandere and Elanhe would likely not last long into their sons' reigns. He would be far more capable of handling that external crisis.
A case could be made for either of them--and jealousy over the outcome certainly wouldn't damage their friendship. Both were far too accustomed to the realities of politics within the Holy City to allow that. Eventually, one of them would back down and throw their support behind the other, if the question wasn't settled for them.
As for which...
Well.
Jemairin went to see Fahletya the night before the voting was to begin--not to try to determine that question, not yet, but to spend their last night as true equals in one another's company. Not as lovers, that time had come and gone; and not as parents to their son, either.
Before the week was over, either Fahletya or Jemairin would be elevated to the highest office in the Church, and become one of the most powerful people in the world. But tonight was for them, and them alone; for the two old friends who knew each other better than anyone else. One last meeting before things changed.
They spoke of everything and nothing, of friends and family and politics, of plans for the future--dancing around which of them would be leading those plans, but filing away each other's advice for when the time came.
They had far too much respect for each other--and were far too good at what they did--to do otherwise.
And when he left in the very early morning, less than two hours before the first round of voting would commence, she held him for a moment, for old time's sake, and whispered, half-challenge and half-benediction, victory to the best of us.
He laughed, and kissed her cheek for old time's sake, and walked away through the pre-dawn mist as the sun rose over the Holy City.
There was to be an election. And, perhaps by tonight, but certainly by the week's end, either he would be High Priest or Fahletya would hold the office.
And, win or lose--though of course, on that misty morning, he had no intention of losing--Jemairin was very much looking forward to what came next.
Story: Victory to the Best of Us
'Verse: Untitled Intrigues Story
Colors: Metallic Gold #10. role
Supplies and Materials: graffiti (Two-Faced Janus), canvas
Word Count: 496
Rating: PG
Characters: Jemairin, Fahletya
Warnings: Politicking within a religious organization.
Notes: Constructive criticism welcome, as always.
So, there was to be an election. And both Jemairin and Fahletya knew it would come down to the two of them.
There were others on the Council with more seniority or deeper faith--of course, the last time a High Priestess or Priest had been elected primarily on the basis of devotion had been centuries ago--but none who had the talent, charisma, and political savvy necessary be able to gain a majority vote.
Fahletya was the better administrator, and there were some hints of a internal clouds gathering on the Church's horizon. She would be far more capable of keeping their own house in order and weathering that particular storm.
Jemairin, however, was the better diplomat, and the fragile peace forced down the throats of the old kings of Nandere and Elanhe would likely not last long into their sons' reigns. He would be far more capable of handling that external crisis.
A case could be made for either of them--and jealousy over the outcome certainly wouldn't damage their friendship. Both were far too accustomed to the realities of politics within the Holy City to allow that. Eventually, one of them would back down and throw their support behind the other, if the question wasn't settled for them.
As for which...
Well.
Jemairin went to see Fahletya the night before the voting was to begin--not to try to determine that question, not yet, but to spend their last night as true equals in one another's company. Not as lovers, that time had come and gone; and not as parents to their son, either.
Before the week was over, either Fahletya or Jemairin would be elevated to the highest office in the Church, and become one of the most powerful people in the world. But tonight was for them, and them alone; for the two old friends who knew each other better than anyone else. One last meeting before things changed.
They spoke of everything and nothing, of friends and family and politics, of plans for the future--dancing around which of them would be leading those plans, but filing away each other's advice for when the time came.
They had far too much respect for each other--and were far too good at what they did--to do otherwise.
And when he left in the very early morning, less than two hours before the first round of voting would commence, she held him for a moment, for old time's sake, and whispered, half-challenge and half-benediction, victory to the best of us.
He laughed, and kissed her cheek for old time's sake, and walked away through the pre-dawn mist as the sun rose over the Holy City.
There was to be an election. And, perhaps by tonight, but certainly by the week's end, either he would be High Priest or Fahletya would hold the office.
And, win or lose--though of course, on that misty morning, he had no intention of losing--Jemairin was very much looking forward to what came next.