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The thing was, Muriel had always been a worshipper at heart.
Although everyone born in her city prayed to their goddess—unnamed except for the title of ‘Goddess of Wisdom and History’—children learned that loyalty slowly (and some never learned at all). They giggled and grew bored in lessons when adults would prattle on about the importance of praying to the goddess. The world was filled with gods and goddesses but theirs was special (children whispered that adults must say that in every place that had one in their midst). Their city was the center of knowledge, all spurred on by the loyal subjects’ devotion. It was through their prayers that the goddess blessed them.
For Muriel, the subject filled her with a measure of calm and awe. It inspired her to know that the place of her birth had such a special connection to a goddess.
Years passed, and while many of her peers learned their craft or interests and moved on, Muriel couldn’t bring herself to. Although she wasn’t as smart as those around her—more suited for the world of arts than scholarly pursuits—she couldn’t leave. Even when the elders tried to encourage her to move on to a place where a god of art could help lift her talents even further, Muriel refused. This is where she wanted to be, worshipping her goddess, and she would have no other.
They sighed, but eventually gave up and gave her the menial job of organizing journals and recording the dates in a giant timeline for those who would need the information later on. It was boring, but it let her stay, and that was all that mattered.
Her evenings were filled with painting. Ever since she could remember, Muriel had dreamed about a feminine figure. She could never see her well, only the impression of someone much larger than herself with dark hair that defied gravity, floating and blocking Muriel’s view of her face.
And eyes. So many eyes, a striking shade of blue and brown.
So Muriel painted her, over and over again. She mused that it might be the goddess herself, although she never said that out loud, it felt foolish enough in her head.
The studio she painted in was supplied by the temple where she worked. It’s rare for someone to come in, but not overly unusual. Generally, it’s people new to the temple, interested in the lone artist. When they discover she paints one thing and one thing only, they quickly lose interest and never come back.
Muriel didn't mind. She had her own mission to paint the perfect portrait of the mystery figure (goddess?) from her dreams and other people’s lack of support didn't bother her.
The door creaked as it was opened but Muriel didn’t bother to turn around. She’d let whoever it was drift around the room, perhaps take a peek at the paintings stacked against the walls and see that they were all of the same subject, before they inevitably wandered closer to look over Muriel’s shoulder.
The stranger surprised her by immediately coming behind her instead of looking around. It’s not an elder, they would have already spoken by now. Plus, the clicking of the shoes sounded like heels.
“It’s lovely,” a woman’s voice commented and Muriel’s eyes widened. Finishing a stroke of paint, Muriel settled back into her chair, paintbrush held aloft and away from the canvas before she peeked over her shoulder.
She’s immediately struck breathless. The woman standing above her was gorgeous, with tanned skin as far as the eye could see, inky black hair that swept against her shoulders, and bangs that did the same against her eyebrows. But it’s the eyes that really take her by surprise; one was a stunning blue, bright as a cloudless sky, while the other was a deep brown, as warm as a morning cup of coffee.
They are exactly the shade that she’s always tried to capture in her paintings, yet never quite managed to.
“T-thank you,” Muriel stuttered out. The woman smiled and giggled just a little, the sound like windchimes on the breeze.
“My name is Robin,” she said, mirth shining in her eyes. Muriel didn't feel like she was laughing at her though, more like Robin had a secret only she knew and took amusement in.
“Muriel. It’s, uh, nice to meet you.”
“Who is she?”
It’s on the tip of her tongue to ask who ‘she’ was, so dazzled by the woman and the situation before Muriel realized—the paintings, of course.
“I’m not sure. I only see her in my dreams,” she confessed quietly.
Robin hummed. “Maybe you’ll get to meet her someday.” The smile she wore felt like it had layers to it, the amusement plain to see but there’s so much more that Muriel didn't even have the language for. It seemed to have a certain depth to it that no one else had ever worn in a smile before. Muriel wanted so badly to learn exactly what each layer meant, strip them all down until it’s just Robin left, exposed for only Muriel to see.
The swell of emotion for an utter stranger was so intense she shook her head as if to clear the thought.
“I hope so,” Muriel said at last, trying to shove away her feelings. Robin didn't reply immediately, layered smile still in place as her eyes burned into Muriel’s, and it was as if she could hear her every thought, feel her every emotion. Muriel shivered under the weight of the look.
Robin stayed a little bit longer, seemingly content just to chat. After Robin had started to move around the room, commenting on select pieces, it became easier to breathe and to follow the conversation.
After the woman left, it felt like the room exhaled a longing sigh at the same time Muriel did.
That night, Muriel dreamed again.
She didn’t always dream of the mystery woman; other times they were regular old dreams.
Standing among a crumbling temple, Muriel was struck immediately by the thought, This is a dream . That didn’t normally happen, usually, she didn’t realize until after she woke up.
Foamy sea-green eyes glanced over the edge of the staircase she stood atop of. It looked as if the night sky was below her, distant stars twinkling at her, while colorful cosmetic storms drifted by, the kind she had only read about. The sight made her dizzy, but looking up was just as disorienting. The temple seemed to be floating in space, as the sky stretched as far as the eye could see.
Then suddenly there was a weight on her mind as a voice sounding larger than life whispered, Come in . It was gone as soon as it appeared, which was a relief. Even though it had said only two words, it was so mind-breaking Muriel had already fallen to her knees with a cry, her head feeling like it might split apart.
Slowly, Muriel stood and turned to face the darkness of the temple that loomed before her. Swallowing, she began to walk, trepidation making her limbs feel shaky. It wasn’t out of fear though.
Muriel had always been a worshipper and this? This felt like the closest she had ever come to actually sensing the presence of the object of her worship.
Feeling suddenly as inconsequential as an ant, she made her way inside.
Time ebbed, slowed down, and sped up, then had no meaning at all.
In no time at all (in what felt like a thousand years) she made it to the throne room.
Or, that’s what she assumed it was. It felt important like a throne room should feel. Large pillars rose towards the ceiling, though it was so far away, Muriel could barely make it out. The space was massive. Twinkling constellations on bright blue strands hung in the air, the closest Muriel had ever seen stars before. That didn’t pique her interest quite like the rows and rows of books that were crammed between each pillar, all the way down to the floor. Her breath caught in her throat. Perhaps this really was the Goddess of Wisdom calling to her.
“Welcome,” a familiar voice greeted from behind her, and Muriel whirled around in surprise.
“Robin—?” The name died in her mouth as she took in the being before her.
She was enormous, as big as a building, and the largeness of the space around Muriel suddenly made sense.
The Goddess of Wisdom and History tilted her head at Muriel, her hair drifting around her face as if gravity held no meaning to it. Large black horns sprang from her head and her eyes—
It felt like Muriel could fall into her eyes, the same intensity she felt with Robin before but increased tenfold. Multiple eyes dotted her face, all holding her in the center of their attention.
The Goddess chuckled. “Hello again, Muriel. I’m so glad to meet you like this.”
“Uhhh?” She couldn’t speak, couldn’t find her voice. The Goddess hummed.
“Perhaps this form is a little too much? Let me change.”
There was a burst of light that had Muriel closing her eyes out of instinct. It only lasted a second and when Muriel opened them again, Robin stood before her, brushing off feathers from her shoulders.
“Now, that’s better, no?”
Immediately Muriel fell to her knees. “Goddess, I didn’t mean to offend! Your other form was beautiful! I’m really sorry I was just shocked, I didn’t—“
“Goodness,” Robin interrupted her outburst, pressing a hand to her own cheek looking perplexed. “That wasn’t the reaction I was expecting. Come, off your knees." She walked to Muriel and grabbed her arms, tugging her to her feet in one smooth motion. “I’ve been watching you, you know.”
“ Me ?” Muriel wheezed out in shock. “Why me? I’m not the brightest in the temple by a long shot, haven’t researched or discovered new things or—mmph!” She was stopped by a finger against her lips and Muriel almost fainted. The skin was smooth, unnaturally so and when Robin pulled away, embarrassingly she whimpered.
Robin didn’t comment on it, for which she was eternally grateful.
“I know,” Robin said simply. “I like you anyway. There’s something about you that compels me. I’ve always liked watching you paint and you’ve grown into something lovely.”
The compliment made her blush so hard, she felt it in her ears.
“And I wondered,” Robin said slyly, eyes bright in the reflection of the stars that drifted above them, “if you’d mind terribly if I visited you from time to time? I’d like to get to know you better.” Her eyes became half-lidded, the smile she wore sending a tingle down Muriel’s spine, and heat squirmed in her stomach.
“Oh Goddess, that would be—”
“Robin,” she interrupted firmly.
Muriel’s eyes grew wide. “A-ah, I couldn’t—”
Holding her elbows delicately in each hand, Robin cocked out a hip as she raised an eyebrow. “Can’t you? You did it once already.”
“On accident!” When Robin didn’t say anything, just waited patiently, Muriel licked her lips and swallowed, her throat feeling unnaturally dry. Heterochromic eyes tracked the movement. “Robin,” she wheezed out at last. Robin smiled fully, radiating a quiet joy, and Muriel cleared her throat. “I’d be honored.”
“Excellent!” Robin enthused. “I look forward to it. For now, it’s time to go. Have a good morning, Muriel.”
She didn’t know how Robin knew what time it was, this place seemed as if it never changed, like it was stuck, utterly frozen in a moment. Muriel opened her mouth but couldn’t speak before Robin leaned forward to press a kiss on the corner of her mouth.
Muriel gaped as Robin sent her a wink. Before she could say anything, Muriel blinked and found herself back in her bed, the early morning light beginning to creep inside her room.
Leaping out of the bed, kicking off the blanket that stubbornly wrapped itself around her ankle, she flew to the bathroom.
Flicking on the light, she stared at her reflection. Ashy blonde hair was a bird’s nest around her face, but she didn’t care about that. Pressing gentle fingers against the corner that Robin (the Goddess?) pressed a kiss to, she leaned in. Although she knew it was silly, she half expected to see something, some evidence from the kiss.
Pulling her fingers away, even though she wasn’t expecting anything, her heart dropped when there was nothing different. It was just her, standing in the bathroom. The experience felt like it should leave some mark, some tell of how much her life had been changed.
Sighing, she turned to grab her hairbrush when something glittered.
Immediately she pressed in close to the mirror again, tilting her head back and forth. It was subtle, but there at the corner was a sheen, almost like glitter against her skin. Muriel couldn’t help the burst of joyful laughter and it echoed around the bathroom. She examined her fingers and found the same glitter had rubbed off on her fingertips from where she had pressed them against her skin.
Muriel smiled wide. Stardust, her mind whispered and she was compelled to believe it.
After all, what was a worshipper if not a believer at heart?