#but obvi he doesn't know the full truth & also the suggestion is blasphemous

[sanktere]

quince: one temptation your character has had.

 ✧   //    flower and tree prompts.  /  @mjolnrr

          the lone figure of the man looks as though he might almost be blown into the sea. one hand shielding his eyes from the triumphant glare of the sun, fierce cliffside gusts making a streaming banner of his golden hair. the rich, pungent salt of ocean baywater spirals skyward on the updraft, carrying with it the crashing spray of churning waters on the sheer rocks below.

          he glances down. it’s certainly a long drop to those frothing, aegean-white rapids whipped into frenzy by the wind — almost enough to make his head spin, and he takes an instinctive step further back from the edge.

          lord raymond, possibly the others, will come looking for him soon. indecision shakes in his heart, feeble thing it has always been.

          sacrilege would follow his name if he were to listen to this rash, terrible notion that had taken hold of him. the twin ivories bound in sacred lettering clutched beneath his arm feel as though they still burn — beyond their bindings, through his robes, unto flesh — even though the battle had ended,                                                                         truly, truly ended,

          and the safety and domain of man settled again over all elibe.

          cursory though his exposure had been, he will never be as he was before the Light had come at his asking. hands and forearms still braise and tingle, not as if grazed by fire, but the overwhelming colorless purity that light magic created: caustic and invisible, and his skin had thinned, seemed glassier for it. not even a handful of hours with such relics, to this — and they had hardly been at a fraction of their full power! the saint had truly been a savior beyond human limitations.

          they had hardly been at their full power. aureola and luce. and of what strange truth he dared to imagine the former whispered to him voicelessly through its aurigraphy.

          it had been held in the saint’s hands. dispelled evil. he knew the tales like a child their favorite lullaby, the songs of praise in his sleep. ‘ when i behold the Glorious Word, bestowed by Her Most Divine to guide...  ♫ ’ there were no words to render the honor of carrying it, much less having pulled from its holy pages.

          yet, what was it — itself?

          ... the gale-tossed waters lash upon the cliff. ❝ lucius! ❞ ... they had found him. he had hesitated too long.

          no. he knows that’s not true. he would never have done it. turning, he smiles to his allies and companions alongside whom he had toiled and fought, offers some apology for straying off. yes, there was a new elibe to return to across the bay. footsteps retreat from the windswept precipice; two fathomless weights beneath his arm.

          he would never have done it. but, for a moment...