Chapter Text
Blesséd be Helio, son of Sol and humanity,
He the golden sower, tether’ng mortals to divinity,
He the farmer which tends the field
He the gard’ner who smites the weeds
Blesséd we under Helio,
He provides us with all we need.
(Hymn 1, “Blesséd”, The Book of Helio. Sometimes called “The Golden Sower”.)
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Buddy spent an enormous amount of time in prayer. This should surprise nobody, really; how else should a devout Helioic cleric spend his time after waking up, before meals, between classes, during football games, or in church?
The scripture dictated that it was best to pray five times a day. Five was Helio’s sacred number, for the number of kernels you plant in one hole when planting corn.
Finding time to pray was very easy in Highcourt. Buddy attended a private Helioic school which his grandfather preached at twice a week, every Sunday, of course, as well as before the lunch period every Friday. In class, Buddy felt as though he was in constant prayer, studying theology and the grand history of Sol and Helio and Helio’s mother (faceless and nameless though she was) and altogether strengthening his faith in community.
Finding five times in a school day to pray in Solace, though…that was trickier. The Aguefort class schedule was strenuous, as was Rat Grinders training, but he did his darndest to fit them into his schedule.
Morning and evening prayer with his grandparents were the easiest. The three gathered at the dining room table just before breakfast or dinner, joined hands, and his grandfather would launch into a beautiful speech. Not only was he held tight in Helio’s hands, he was held tight in his grandparents’ hands, too. They guarded him, and kept him in proximity to his divinity, fastened to his faith, secure.
Most of the time, for his third, he sent up a quick prayer when he said grace before lunch, since he didn’t have much time for prayer between the intense Porter’s paladin multiclass drills. When his grandad took over cleric classes, his fourth became really easy. In school, if his granddad flipped the lecture into a sermon (which happened more often than not), Buddy would sit up straighter and offer an invigorated, “Amen!” at the end and count it. Other students would chuckle or whisper, but Bobby couldn’t stop himself from shooting Buddy a proud smile. That more than made up for it in Buddy’s book.
That left his fifth prayer, though. A couple of unfortunate times, he’d been forced to mutter a speedy prayer in the restroom. Once he had to pray in the nurse’s office. But most of the time Buddy would hole up in an actual prayer room between the Cleric Hall and the library for a proper session with his Holy Book.
The day before midterms, the prayer rooms were chock full of paladins and clerics pulling long study hours with their various talismans and deities. Buddy was in a tight time crunch – Kipperlily had added an extra day of training since he had to miss one for a church fundraiser, so he only had ten minutes to spare, which wouldn’t have been a big deal if he could find a quiet place.
He walked up and down the hall, checking for any empty rooms. Finally, he spotted one of the smaller rooms in the back corner had its lights off. “Aw, perfect,” Buddy murmured, rushing to it with a smile. He flung the door open and stepped in.
“—s is His word that evil repays…Buddy?”
Buddy looked down. On the floor of the prayer room was Max Durden, laying on a prayer rug. Gentle candles were lit all around him. They had met at the top of the year at Seacaster Manor (a story for another time), and had run into each other a couple of times since then, despite Buddy’s best attempts to avoid Max. For no particular reason, he told people.
“I am so sorry, Max, I thought this room was unoccupied,” Buddy said. He waited a beat, and added, “I forget you pray.”
“I’m a warlock.” Max said, sitting up. “I swore I told you that.”
Buddy’s face broke into an awkward smile. “My apologies for not remembering. And for interrupting,” he gestured uneasily to Max’s setup. “...this.”
Before Buddy could shut the door, Max said, “You know, I wouldn’t mind if you prayed in here, Buddy, until another room opens up.”
Under normal circumstances, Buddy would not have accepted this offer. But he was losing time. And he did not want to hear another student urinating in the middle of his prayer.
“You know what, I would really appreciate that,” He said, shutting the door and fishing his Holy Book out of his bag.
“No problem,” Max said. He closed his eyes and breathed in before starting over.
Buddy knelt beside Max, imagining a line dividing their lanes of worship, opening his Book, and beginning to sing, softly. “Blesséd be Helio, son of Sol and humanity/ He the golden sower, tether’ng mortals to divinity/He the farmer which tends the field…” he went on, embarrassed at first to be singing alone, but since Max didn’t laugh or comment, he continued.
Somewhere in the middle of reciting the scripture following Hymn 1, Buddy paused to take in what Max was saying.
“Thus is His word, that violence repays violence. Thus is His word, that evil repays evil. Thus is His word, good repays good.” Max heard the stall in Buddy’s prayer. “Am I distracting you?”
Buddy shook his head, trying to find somewhere other than Max’s face to look at. He settled on his hands, resting over some kind of sigil. Max’s fingers were long, with black painted fingernails. “No, I’m listening,” he said, a little flustered to have been found out, “...out of academic interest.”
Max’s eyebrows lifted. “Academic interest,” he repeated, a little smirk rising on his face. "Okay. Huh.”
“Academic interest!” He insisted. “I would not entertain any other curiosity in your, ah..devilry, if it didn’t help me better understand just how lucky I am to be bathed in Helio’s light!”
Buddy wanted Max to flinch, to have some sort of reaction. He remained unfazed. “I believe you, Buddy,” he said, still grinning wryly. “Academic interest. Of course.” Then he dipped back into his prayer, loose, indirect, unfocused. Casual. Relaxed. Something about an eye for an eye.
Buddy was lucky the candlelight was so low, because he blushed very easily when he felt embarrassed, and he didn’t want Max to comment on it.
If any other prayer rooms opened up, Buddy and Max didn’t realize. They fell into a pattern of reciting a few verses, pausing, explaining them, exchanging questions and answers. Buddy often got defensive, but that didn’t seem to bother Max.
Who knows how long they stayed in that cramped study room talking?
“Oh, shoot,” Buddy jumped to his feet when he saw the clock and realized he was already a half-hour late to his party’s training session. “I really have to go now,” he said apologetically. “This was…” his voice stopped where the word nice was supposed to go. “It’s nice to talk to somebody outside of my party every once in a while.”
“I had a good time, too,” Max said, raising two fingers in a half-peace sign, half-salute. “Same time next week?” He joked and winked. Buddy laughed stiffly, waved goodbye, and ran for the woods.
But it wasn’t the last time they prayed together. They never deliberately planned anything together, but if one caught another in the prayer rooms, they would meet and pray and discuss and it was always a nice time. Sometimes even if Buddy didn’t need to squeeze in another prayer, he would check the empty-looking rooms for Max, just to check if he was there.
One day, Buddy found an envelope in his locker. It wasn’t signed. Inside was a silver key with a violet question mark painted on it. Under normal circumstances, he would have shown it to his granddad and asked what he thought, but some part of him thought it would be best to keep it secret. He questioned Max about it the next time they prayed together. Even under Zone of Truth, he knew nothing.
Buddy kept the key in his locker.