faderift | AUGUST RIFTER ARRIVAL

It is almost physically painful to Anduin: not being able to read a word. Somehow, he understands the spoken language of the land. They even call it 'Common' but it bears no resemblance to his own. There are runes which, if he squints a bit, look like they could be in some lineage shared with those of the Arathi tongue but that's hardly useful.

He lost no time in expressing his desire to learn, and while he was assured that there 'were people for that' he finds himself wandering into the library at a time when it seems the staff have gone for a break. Anduin isn't even sure if the book he's looking at presently is the right way up.

"Youuuuu looking for something specific?"

Church is no librarian, and he doesn't spend as much time in the library as he used to once he got put on forces duty (which mostly is a lot of hauling stuff around and guarding stuff when there aren't missions, but he's okay with it). But with the introduction of this whole quarantine thing, and the fact that this latest batch of Rifters was one of the few he wasn't around for--christ, he's glad nobody thought he would be any good to go to fucking Tevinter now--means he's making an effort to go and seek people out.

"Cuz you can ask. That's a thing you're allowed to do."

"Oh, I didn't see you there-" He grins. He's pretty sure the book must be upside down, and that he has made himself look very silly. "I just arrived- through a rift- and... I was hoping to find a librarian who could help me learn to read, but they all seem to be out just now..."

He closes the book. It's of no use to him, as interesting as its runes may be. "My name is Anduin."

"Oh! Yeah, that's no problem, we can totally find someone to teach you that shit. I'd offer, just...I guess I wouldn't know where to start teaching something like that. Like how do you really teach a whole alphabet and all that? That's why teachers need paid more."

That's a tangent for another time. He holds out a hand to shake. "Church. You can call me Church. Any fellow Rifter is a friend of mine."

Anduin shakes his hand. "I am pleased to meet you, friend." His tone is warm, though formal. It's an odd mix; usually formality goes hand in hand with insincerity but the young man could be a walking illustration of the concept.

"And your name is 'Church?' Are you a priest, then? Oh... I hear there is no church in Thedas, only this Chantry."

"Ah, no, it's just my last name. I just...don't really get called Leonard?" Mostly because he only ever introduces himself as Church, and when he does introduce his first name, insists on being called Church. Even Christine still calls him Church.

"Chantry's basically the Andrastian church, and...there's not like a whole lot of religious diversity it feels like? You got a couple big ones and then like...tiny little sects that get treated like cults and that feels like it's about it. Not the best person to ask about the nitty gritty details of all of 'em. But you're probably gonna get the basic lowdown on the Maker and Andraste if you haven't yet."

"I see," says Anduin somberly. "I had wondered-- It is strange to see the..." he pauses, mulling over his words. "--passion with which most people engage with the Chantry, and this despite the detachment of this 'Maker,' who... if I understand rightly, doesn't actually manifest in the world. Or at least, he doesn't anymore."

It's peculiar. Anduin had known many people who were skeptical of religion, his father being one. Steel and a strong arm were what he relied upon. Yet even he, and others, would readily admit that they had seen and felt the Light. It had knitted flesh, soothed their hearts, brought back the dead in some cases. They were skeptical because they had never truly, truly *felt* it. Here, the Maker was absolutely absentee yet the devotion of his followers alarmed Anduin.

"Right. It's--wait." And that's peculiar. The wording of Anduin's understanding. "Are you from somewhere where your gods just are, like, physically, traipsing around the world and all?" There are those whose worlds are like that. Not his, but, maybe that's the sitch here.

"Wall, you said there isn't much diversity here. My people don't worship anyone, not the way the humans here revere this Maker. We don't have prophets or saints. But we do have priests. We rely on the power of the Light, which is everywhere. It's hard to deny its reality if you see it close up a wound." He shrugs and leans forward. He glosses over the philosophy of it all; that's where things can get thorny. No one can even say for sure where the dead go- there are so many afterlives, and each manifestly as real as the others.

"But other peoples worship various beings... which are real and indeed 'traipse' around," he smiles. "Loa, elemental spirits, Nauru, Wild Gods that are powerful nature spirits... I have spoken with, studied with some of these beings."

"Light closing up a wound just sounds like magic." But he's not gonna deny anyone's religion. His own sure doesn't sound the wildest by far, just maybe more open than something like the natives have.

"I guess it's all just a matter of perspective when it comes to worship, or revering, or praying and priests and sainthood and shit. Especially when you have actual real tangible gods around. Definitely don't have that in my world. Maybe that's why we've got so many religions and offshoots of them, cuz we don't have anything concrete to base anything on."

"It is," he says eagerly. "It is very like the powers a shaman or druid relies upon to heal the wounded, cure the sick--" No, he really shouldn't get into the philosophy of it all. Once he starts, he's not at all sure that he could stop himself before he's thoroughly bored his companion. "Trolls wield the Light through their Loa- like Rezan. Night Elves call upon their goddess Elune. The Draenei rely on the Nauru. Humans... the Light came to us, in our hearts. But it is all the Light, whatever its source."

Anduin had visited Netherlight Temple what seemed like a lifetime ago. Priests of every race gathered there, putting aside their differences of philosophy, and more importantly the terrible wounds of generational war, to stand as one against the darkness threatening to consume the world. It so affected him, Anduin had felt he could move mountains. Someday... there would be peace. If this could happen, nothing was impossible.

"Now the Chantry... Parts of it... trouble me. We once had a zealous, break-away faction of paladins and priests. They called themselves the Scarlet Crusade. You can... probably guess why I am wary of such zeal."

"So you have gods, but they're all conduits for this one universal...thing, constant, that exists." Kinda like a god to a metaphorical god, but only it's not a metaphor and just...a power? Just magic? Hm.

"I mean..." Church makes a face. "I mean, there's a lot of debate about the major religion here. Because one of the basic tenants is like...everyone's gotta convert for the Maker to come back, and let's face it, that shit's not happening. The elves have their pantheon that they're desperately trying to hold on to after being persecuted for Ages, the dwarves have their own thing and they predominantly live underground, the qunari-with-a-little-q I'm not sure, I guess they're free to do whatever, but the Qunari-with-a-big-Q have the Qun which...I think isn't so much a religion as a strict way of life? I think? And then you've got Avvar with their spirits, and you've obviously got different sects of the religions, and that's all the super super super simplified version. Back home's no better. Spanish Inquisition." So. Inquisition in and of itself is kind of a loaded word. "The Crusades. Loooots of wars and horrible discriminational acts cuz of religion. 's not that religion is bad as a concept, just...y'know, zealots, like you said. The righteous believers. The proselytizers and shit."

Anduin makes a face as well- it's not unlike Church' expression. He especially doesn't like the sound of the Chantry holding the view that this 'Maker' being they revere as the creator deity will return to them if they succeed in obliterating the diversity of faiths. A cold horror rises in him as he ponders it. "You know, whenever such zealotry rose on my world- wherever it may be- even the most bitter enemies would recognize its danger, that we all shared in the harm that could come of it. It... is discomfiting to know that such forces are so prevalent here."

It hasn't yet dawned fully on Anduin that the threat he is repulsed by is not only a general danger but specifically for people like him- for those who are capable of wielding magic. It manifests only as a small, heavy feeling in his stomach.

"I mean there's...there are people who feel a little safer questioning beliefs they've held, here. I think there might be more atheists and agnostics than anyone might necessarily think, which, isn't that always the case? But," he continues, trying to return to the point, "I wouldn't pick a fight about it, if that's what you're thinking of doing. There's already a lot going on that a bunch of people up and trying to overthrow the dominant religion of the place isn't gonna end well.

"We--the Inquisition, I mean--we're also trying to get into the good graces of, I guess, the ruling body of it? They lost their leader, uh, their pope, lady pope, and the bishops and mothers and whoever, they haven't picked a new leader, and generally speaking don't like us very much? But they have enough power and more importantly influence that we would really really like to be okay by their book."

Galadriel is often wont to wander the library, to savor the quiet and read about this world. Rarely does she interact with anyone when she lingers here, but as she passes she cannot help but note the book he holds and his frustrated expression. She is certain she once wore its twin and, despite her latent desire for solitude, she stops alongside his table to speak to him.

"It is a curious language isn't it?" She asks and, not unkindly reaches to light her fingertips on the top edge of the book. "It is not easily learned...and even less so when upside down."

Anduin closes his eyes, a blush spreading across his face. He laughs to himself, at how foolish he must seem. But then one must be foolish at times if one wishes to become wise. His laugh is a pleasant sound trailing off in a sigh. "It is as I feared. I thank you--" he looks up to her and finishes, haltingly. "My lady..."

His first thought is that if any saw Elune walk the earth, she would look as does this lady. Unlike the Kaldorei goddess, she radiates not the serene, cold light of the moon, but the warmth of the holy Light itself. Anduin rises and offers her a courteous bow. "My name is Anduin Llane Wrynn, King of Stormwind."

He is a genial sort, and as polite as any man she has met in Thedas, or in Arda. He rises , at once, to greet her and bows in time. She answers the gesture, insofar as she can given their proximity, and her brows lift as she rises, surprised by his eager but not unwelcome introduction.

"It is a pleasure, Anduin, King of Stormwind. I am called Galadriel, in these lands I hold no title, in my own I am the Steward of Lorien," she replies and, despite her efforts, the vowels in his name have a strange sort of inflection. She can hide her accent often, but in words that are familiar it is impossible to disguise. "Grateful as I am for your politesse, you owe me no deference--please, sit and be comfortable and, if you are not opposed? I should like to join you."

Anduin extends his arm to a chair opposite. "Please do, I would welcome the company, Lady." After resuming his seat, curiosity prompts him to continue: "I do not know of any place called by that name but it sounds very like the language of the Kaldorei, our Night Elf allies."

She takes the seat across from him, as he asks his next question. The smile it prompts in her is immediate but she subdues it. It would not do for her amusement to be taken poorly, nor for him to think it was at his expense.

"I cannot say I have met an elf of Night, though I am given to the night myself," Galadriel replies as she settles her hands on the table, folding them before her with idle grace. "Few men know of Lorien, fewer still have seen it, and we are a great distance from Arda, here.

"My lands are the golden woods, the elvenhome, and I miss them dearly. I know not of Stormwind, but that is less strange for me. The countries of men often arise and fall without my noticing."

"Indeed," he nods. Although it had become common place to see Elven champions he still marveled that even the youngest to take up arms and join his cause had seen the sundering of the world, known the great empires of the past and witnessed their downfall. "Stormwind itself had been destroyed in the reign of my grandfather Llane, when the Orcish Horde first invaded Azeroth and was rebuilt in the reign of my father. I had hoped to establish peace but... that seems a distant dream, especially now."

He is silent for a long moment, looking ahead of him with a strangely stiff and fixed expression. They had called her 'Finel.' It meant "the Last" in their language. The last Night Elf, a child brought back from the brink of death, to survive the burning of Teldrassil.

"Peace with Orcish hordes is a noble goal...if exceedingly difficult to achieve," Galadriel replies gently and her smile settles into an expression of polite apology. It had not been her intent to draw painful memories with her conversation and the destruction of one's homeland surely qualified as painful, did it not?

"If nothing else, I am glad to know that your father has rebuilt your kingdom and that you now rein it. Kings who seek peace are rare; rarer still are those that accomplish it."

She pauses a moment and glances down to the book he is holding.

"Do you wish to learn these characters? To read the words of the common tongue of Thedas?"

Anduin makes no attempt to conceal his eagerness. "That I would, lady Galadriel! I am finding it so difficult to ground myself without the support of the knowledge accumulated by research of others, as I am so used to..." In fact, Anduin is constantly reminded that he spent more time reading than focusing on developing his martial skill- not that he had much aptitude for it. Mostly, he feels it was a fair trade, but his advisors and other leaders of the Alliance would disagree...

Galadriel smiles, charmed by his enthusiasm, and gestures to the book in his hand, silently requesting he pass it to her.

"When first I arrived, I taught myself to read this tome. I made a book detailing how it works...though sadly it is in the language of my people," she says and her expression takes on a note of apology. "It will do you little good, I fear, but I can instruct you on these characters and their sounds.

"It is a simple matter from there."

AUGUST RIFTER ARRIVAL

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