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Ardent has never been particularly religious, with one strange and glaring exception, but there’s just something about churches. Specifically, the artistry of them.
Ardent had long considered it an impossibility for a mortal work to capture the ideals of the divine. What would be the point? After all, the vessels walk among us. But there’s just something about the white stone and the decorated altars, the paintings and the delicately carved wooden booths and ornaments. Every church is different, but every church is the same. They inspire a quiet sense of awe. Even for one the gods have abandoned, within the four walls of a church building, Ardent can feel something transcendent.
Then they leave, and the weight of stares and whispers settles over them like a heavy cloak in the summer.
They haven’t been in many churches in their life, but each one has made a lasting impression. All carefully restricted colors and directed brightness. All shining in the most holy of places with the light of the sun. All gold, even when they’re not.
Ardent thinks gold may be the closest earthly thing to divinity.
Maybe that’s why they’re dirt poor.
The tail rings and the cuffs that rest unsubtly on their biceps came first. The cuffs are bronze, of course— gold is, as the gods often are, inaccessible , but the rings are real. They’re an heirloom, technically. Both were gifts from Axel and Assurance upon Ardent’s departure from Liadon: Cuffs from your father's side, for protection, and ornaments from your mother’s, to remind you who you are. To highlight it. Every flash of gold in the corner of Ardent’s eye as their tail swishes is a twofold reminder. You are what you are. A statement of terrible fact, or of sick pride. It didn’t feel as terrible or sick on the boat. Then, the rings and cuffs simply caught the sun, and Ardent took some comfort in knowing that a person’s eyes were always drawn to light before color.
Closer to the divine, for the light. Farther away, for the theft of the symbol.
The earrings were bought in Amastacias upon Ardent’s admission. It was not as hard as it could have been, but even Ardent was filled with a giddy excitement— the thrill of security is more intoxicating than wine to the suitably desperate person. Or tiefling. They were bought from a street vendor— the earrings themselves are real gold, and so are the dangles that weigh down the chains. The chains themselves are not, but it still visually works. The drops hang at the corners of Ardent’s vision, and they are a reminder as well. They are a reminder of achievement, of a hard-won, well-earned victory.
One that does not last.
The fast-paced and subtly poisonous environment of Amastacias seeps into Ardent like a low, constant, dose of arsenic. Like a wallpaper with paint glowing sickly green with malice. They make many acquaintances, many allies for brief projects, many brief and shallow connections. When their classmates drop pretenses, and start talking about parties Ardent didn’t even know was happening as if they weren’t within a foot, Ardent realizes what’s happening.
Ardent doesn’t even think it’s intentional. That’s almost the worst part.
Growing up, Assura taught Ardent about horn jewelry, in Infernal of course.
“Gold, from the depths of the ground.”
“Like the roots?”
“That’s right, firefly! Like the roots that connect us all.”
“What do the caps mean?”
Assurance laughed warmly. “Those keep you from damaging pillows and doors and friends! They’re also just pretty. Where we come from, we wear gold caps, but really the odds of someone recognizing the symbol are low.”
Ardent got a determined look on their small face. “I’ll wear gold caps!”
Assura smiled indulgently. “If you can find them or have them made, I’ll be very impressed.”
“I will!” The matter settled, Ardent paused. “What are the rings for?”
“Gold rings are for family! Cuffs, too. Really, you get to decide.Sometimes, we use copper or silver for friends, but family doesn’t just mean blood. That’s for the people who you care about the most.”
“And why can’t I have any?” Ardent pouted.
“Your horns haven’t grown in yet!” Assura tapped Ardent’s horns— for now just pointy nubs. “You’d have to get new ones in just the next year. And gold is expensive!”
Ardent stared up in awe at Assurance’s jewelry: Two caps and two rings.
Ardent purchased horn jewelry near what would become the end of their collegiate career. Two caps, to protect the people and objects around them. One cuff, the thickness of two rings fused, for their parents. One longer cuff, for protection. One blank horn. They, too, are a reminder.
They’re a reminder of what family means, what it should be. What vulnerability is.
They’re the least effective of Ardent’s reminders.
Alexandrite makes the shine of Ardent’s cuffs look dull. Not that she’s particularly golden— the form she appears to Ardent in is simply luminous, in an unquantifiable, grating way. It makes Ardent want to collapse on the spot. Fortunately for both of them, Ardent does not. The moth flies headlong into the false moon’s glow.
Ardent’s gold is not an expression of pride, or divinity. It’s not an expression of who they are, of what they value. It is a diversion, but that’s not what it is most often.
Most often, the gold is a reminder. It reminds Ardent of who they’re not.