#especially where jibril angel says en chair et en os - I always get chills!

[handsome-edvard]

OC insights • Patron Saints

Take this quiz as your OC and share the results. I took it as my OC Afzal. He got…. 🥁

✨patron saint of bones✨

“

patron saint of frameworks. of structures. of solidity. patron saint of things that break. patron saint of things that are left behind. the bones survive long after the body, the building: what is there left for them, when the rest has gone? what do bones do, with nothing to hold around them? who holds the bones?

”

Snippets below cut (all mine):

⚜️The musculature that once made up Afzal heft was cut in half, leaving him lanky and gaunt — skin, bones, and tribal tattoos.

The crowd following Afzal through upper Viper’s Pit was growing. They screamed and sobbed under the partial sun, lowering to their knees and raising their arms in worship, chanting religious hymns relegated to funerals or, in this case, miracles.

“It is Al Azir,” a priestly man in pale robes yelled upfront, his bulging eyes set upon Afzal as he pointed frantically. “Al Azir the Risen, in the body of our lord: Afzal Afzalah!”

~

“Sun and rain.” Afzal smiled partly. The goddess’ presence meant he was dreaming. “Which ancestor does this celebrate?”

“Al Azir Afzalah,” Sonanga replied. “Are you familiar with him?”

“Al Azir the Risen, who was believed dead twice, was witnessed to have survived three fatal injuries and was resuscitated four times from poisoning. Aye,” Afzal settled his attention beyond Sonanga, “my lord father beat his preposterous life story to my memory.”

The man lowered to one knee and poured a cup. “It is a hot day, my saint lord,” he said reverently. “Just drawn this fresh from the well.”

“Thank you.” Afzal gave the man a grateful nod and drank. “How is the mood of the people?”

“Well, my lord,” said the man, “and we are grateful daily for your return.”

“Indeed, my return hath stirred the hearts of many. What sentiments on the brewing war?”

The man smiled grimly, the wrinkles across his tan face deepening. “With Al Azir on our side, my lord, we the people fear nothing. The soldiers shall take heart.”

~

Ser Ridwan turned his head toward Afzal. “The afternoon guard has been dispatched. I could come with you now, if you’d like.”

“In a bit, cousin,” Afzal said. “I want some time to breathe. There is no training for being taken for a revived saint and I must say, the perpetual staring takes getting used to.”

“Now you know what it’s like to be me.”

Afzal grinned at his handsome cousin. A warm breeze caressed his face. “Well, you never were very modest. Besides, the women who fawn over you are wasting their time.”

“Now, my brother is different.” Jibr’il Angel set his dark grey eyes upon Afzal. “The Lord of Viper’s Pit is a man of action. Listen to the ballads they sing of him. Was it not him who vowed to rid Mouzares of its deadly plague?”

“Aye,” the knights chorused proudly.

“Was it not him traveling to the most wretched parts of our kingdom, facing death itself and entering the mouth of hell, for his people to live free of dark magic?”

“Aye.”

“And was it not him,” Jibr’il Angel preached to the point his voice rose, “who was deemed and declared dead in the North, taken by the elements and the creatures of the night, who returned — en chair et en os! — like Al Azir the Risen?”

“Aye!”