Chapter Text
Furry paws rested still in the pond. Dead leaves and flower petals floated gingerly in the water. Candles burned by the shimmering walls of the pond, tainting the pool with wax. Combined with the darkness it all added a certain ambiance, a feeling best described by a color.
Nukzeh sighed and splashed her paws about. Beside her lay the graves of her mother and grandfather. How great it must have been to be them, to live the life they lived.
Trejul the Great, a long since dead follower of The Lamb. 🐑 He was a loyal disciple and oracle of the lamb, second only to the spouse, Theno.
Nukzeh’s mother, Joar, had achieved the same greatness as her forefather. She’d been the chief architect and erected the gravesite. Her great ideas for morgues and kitchens brought The Lamb great satisfaction, and so after her passing The Lamb chose to separate Joar and Trejul’s graves from the rest.
Instead of placing them in the morgues, The Lamb built the pond and shrine by hand, carving and decorating their grave stones. It was a beautiful but melancholic site. Each grave was personalized with flowers and trinkets. A statue of Trejul in all his glory—nudity—stood above the graves, carved and painted by The Lamb. To the left a pond, shaped by stone and gold.
Joar was buried with her unique robe, sewn together by Zohutek, her skull necklace, and her many rings. Trejul was only buried with a trinket as he never wore anything.
Nukzeh herself hadn’t achieved anything great in her life. While yes, she was a disciple, a part of the lamb’s inner circle, she’d done nothing noteworthy. Maybe it was her predecessors who gave her the right to such a status or maybe The Lamb favored her. Still when Nukzeh passed on she would be buried in her family’s cemetery.
If anything, Zohutek was the one who deserved the burial. Nukzeh’s older brother, Zohutek, ran the tailors, and became the loyalty enforcer recently, both ideas of his own.
Nukzeh was so lost in her own thoughts she forgot the time. The sun began to rise over the temple, burning away the shadows.
The cultists residing in Cult Of The Sill began to stir from their sleep. The first to rise being Theno, the second ever follower of The Lamb. Theno was the oldest follower alive yet he didn’t look a day over twenty (Probably something to do with that golden necklace he always wears).
First thing Theno did was stretch, not uncommon for the ‘possum. “Good Morning Nukzeh.” Theno greeted her as he passed to the farm plots. “Morning.” Nukzeh responded as not to be rude. “Um…Theno wait!”
“Hm?” The opossum stopped. “Is everything alright, Nukzeh?” Why did she stop him? “Yes—yes, I just wanted to ask about Trejul” Nukzeh quickly found an excuse.
“Trejul? Well what do you want to know?” Theno sat beside Nukzeh. He neatly folded his legs together like The Lamb liked to do when he’d meditate.
“What was he like? I mean what did he do to become Trejul The Great”
“You wouldn’t believe this but Trejul was a jerk. You didn’t know her, but Witness Azaroth was a fearless woman, she’d go on missions every other week and always return with more than was asked for.”
“One day Lambert—The Lamb..” Nukzeh giggled a little at his slip up. “Shhh let me tell the story.” Theno smiled.
“One day The Lamb declared a new doctrine. I haven’t the slightest idea why, maybe for fun, but he allows us chaos.” Theno shifted to a more comfortable position, kicking out his weird, grabby paws. “For 2 hours we are allowed to do anything we want, destruction, abuse, whatever; he calls it ‘The Rite of Wrath.’ Anyways, Trejul killed a man in front of everyone during the ritual.”
Nukzeh gasped.
“Some were upset, disturbed, but Witness Azaroth was the most distraught. Maybe it was her germaphobia or the violence of the murder, but she was never the same….” Theno paused to scratch his nose. “Fearful of all, even The Lamb. Since then, until their deaths, Trejul teased and bullied her each day. Of course it wasn’t just that, he did other terrible things, just off the top of my head.”
“Strange, I always thought Trejul would’ve been more honorable.”
“How highly the Lamb speaks of him, I would too”
“What happened to Witness Azeroth after that?”
“Sacrificed to open the door to Silk Cradle.”
“Oh…”
“Well after her complete change in personality she was no longer able to work or go on missions. She lost her trust in The Lamb and even her faith.”
Nukzeh sighed. “And that’s why he’s Trejul the great?”
Theno laughed but Nekzeh didn’t see what was funny. “No, no. Trejul was the first to reject the robe and embrace nudity. He was proud of it all. The mating tent was his idea too. I guess what made him so great was the amount of children he had before death.”
“How many?”
“Seven, and only two lived long enough to have children of their own. Even then Joar was the only one to conceive.”
“Hm…and what of you and Trejul? I’ve heard the stories.”
Theno cleared his throat. “Who told you?!”
Nukzeh laughed. “Not important.”
“Well he was rather charming…”
“So you cheated on The Lamb! Really!”
“I did not!”
“Did too!” Nukzeh leaned forward.
Theno shoved Nukzeh away. “I did not. But if I hadn’t—which I didn’t—you would not have hatched.”
Nukzeh paused. “What? What do you mean?” Theno looked like he was going to answer but the morning bleats of The Lamb stopped him. “Wait!” Nukzeh grabbed at his robe but missed and fell forward on her face. Theno quickly hurried to the farm plots on the far end of camp.
What did this mean? Was Theno related to her? And how did two males have an egg? That was the most puzzling question.
She decided it best to leave it alone and get to work. Nukzeh made her way over the celestial patterned stones and grassy floor to the bar. Looking down the list she got to work making grape nectar and poop juice. Why anyone would drink such a thing she didn’t know.
⊹ ࣪ ﹏𓊝﹏𓂁﹏⊹ ࣪ ˖
The sun beamed down on the temple and its cultists. The late summer heat brought many to the ponds, pools, and fountains in futile efforts to cool down.
Nukzeh found herself—among others—cooling off by the golden fountain outside the church. The water ran red, circulating down from the shape of a cracked skull.
Drinking from the fountain was Born of Light, Nukzeh’s eldest son. He resembled his father more than Nukzeh herself. Both Nukzeh and Born of Light were lemurs however Born of Light bore the green pelt of his father as compared to the light blue and yellow of his mother. The Lamb had chosen the name of both of Nukzeh’s sons though she wished he hadn’t. Their names were like curses to Nukzeh, as if their paths were assigned at birth. Born of Light and Born of Sin, something Nukzeh hoped neither lived up to.
Speaking of The Lamb, a gentle bleat woke Nukzeh out of her thoughts. The Lamb was carrying a gift box. “For me?” Nukzeh was genuinely surprised. “Oh thank you.” The Lamb gave a small “Baaa.” Which Nukzeh assumed was a “you’re welcome.” Most of the time The Lamb only spoke in bleats and baa’s. On occasion he would form actual words.
Unwrapping the gift Nukzeh found a little green thing inside. She wasn’t sure what it was until she clicked the button on the side. A fan! Nice. The blades of the fan began to spin, creating a light breeze. “Thank you, Leader.”
The Lamb smiled and left to attend to other business. “Mother—may I have a turn?” Born of Light clicked from beside her. “Sure.” Nukzeh passed the fan on to her son. His fur was thicker, a trait he inherited from his father, so naturally he would be hotter.
She did wonder though who her own father was or if her and Zohutek even had the same father. How did we go from rhinos to seals and lemurs? Yet through the change and species the light blue, gold, and yellow patterning remained.
Nukzeh was spooked by a mischievous laugh. To her right Sozo had creeped up on her, dancing and laughing. “Sozo scared you?” The mushroom laughed again.
“Uh..” Sozo just laughed and screamed in a language she didn’t understand. Before Nukzeh could answer Sozo’s attention was diverted by a mushroomo passing by. Nukzeh could see the hunger in Sozo’s swirly eyes. “Mushrooms!” Sozo charged after the mushroomo who in turn fled.
They ran like their life depended on it—which it did—but Sozo didn’t give up. Sozo gave chase, running them all around the temple. Sozo never got tired but the mushroomo did and so failed to escape. Sozo gobbled them up, splattering mushroom bits and blood, (or mushroom juice? Nukzeh couldn’t tell), everywhere.
“Gross.” Janaty came over to sweep up the remains. Her hairy face wrinkled in disgust as she cleaned. “Don’t worry about Janaty, I’ll clean it up” Nukzeh took the broom from the pink-ish seal. Sozo just giggled in satisfaction.
How did Sozo get here? Nukzeh doesn’t remember their indoctrination; she just woke up and Sozo was there, laughing and dancing, elated off of whatever’s in the mushrooms.
⊹ ࣪ ﹏𓊝﹏𓂁﹏⊹ ࣪ ˖
Just as Nukzeh finished cleaning the church bell rung. The sun was just beginning its descent as the cultists flocked into the leafy temple. The sun beamed through the sky light down on the followers gathered on the holy ground, illuminating fur, feathers, and skin alike. The lighting combined with the natural decorations, the temple gave Nukzeh a comforting feeling. This was her home, where she was born and where she will die.
The Lamb stood above all the cultists, writing down the attendance from his podium. Once The Lamb counted everyone he began his sermon. Today The Lamb preached about love, not just for your spouse but for your neighbors and fellow cultists. What a beautiful message. Following the sermon, The Lamb distributed a few coins to everyone. Each follower got 10 coins. How generous The Lamb is.
The sun was hanging low in the sky when the cultists left the church. Long shadows stretched behind every structure, providing shade from the heat. Nukzeh found herself resting just outside of the sleeping area. She leaned on the stone walls, toying with the hay blown around them.
Nukzeh liked the walls around the houses; The Lamb had helped paint a mural on them for The One Who Waits. It was well painted, using bright colors to highlight his features, finished with an outline of red. The skeleton arms of the god looked a little unsettling. The subtle translucent look of the bones didn’t sit right with her. Though he is the god of death so maybe he is dead.
She heard some strange noises to her left and looked up to see Leshy approaching her. Nukzeh got up to greet him. “Hello Leshy, can I help you?” Leshy paused for a moment as if he was trying to tell who was speaking. “Nukzeh.“ He sounded pretty confident in that. “Yes, Nukzeh. Will you help me pick camellia? We need a wheelbarrow full.”
“Sure, why not.” She needed something to do anyways as most of the work had been finished for the day. Nukzeh pushed herself off the ground and followed after Leshy who was already leaving her behind. The duo made their way across the camp to the far end of the temple. Camelia flowers sprouted out of every farm plot, their stems thick with gold.
“The Lamb wants Camelia for decoration. He asked me to put them in the wheelbarrow and bring them to his tent.” Leshy’s voice sounded a little muffled as he talked. Facial hair? Facial leaves?
Nukzeh grabbed the stem of just one Camelia petal and snapped it off; It broke with a satisfying crunch. “You can’t pick these yourself ?” Nukzeh looked over at Leshy.
Leshy uprooted an entire plant before answering. “Don’t be lazy Nukzeh.” He huffed and brought the stem to the wheelbarrow. “I just asked for a little assistance.”
Now she felt bad. “I just figured you didn’t want anyone’s help…and I especially didn’t think you’d ask me.”
Leshy bent down to tug on another stem. “What do you mean?”
“I mean you’re a heretic of the old faith, a former god. Isn’t The Lamb your enemy? And I’m his disciple.” Nukzeh leaned down to pull a Camellia stem out of the earth. She added it, and the petal she plucked, to the pile.
“There’s some truth to that.” Leshy grumbled.
“Then why'd you ask for my help?”
The symbol on Leshy’s bandages melted from its usual triangle into three dots, a sign that Leshy was thinking. It was funny how open Leshy was in a way; indirectly through his bandages.
“Maybe I just wanted the company.”
The two said nothing more on that. Instead they continued their work on the farm plots with light conversation, harvesting camelia until the wheel barrow was full. Each plot uprooted and replanted with a variety of seeds. Leshy hauled the wheelbarrow beside the red and white tent of the Lamb.
The sun was thinning on the horizon, staining the sky with tears of red and pink. The dingle of a golden bell echoed from the hall just beyond the cult’s gates. The Lamb had returned! And with an angry toad by his side?
Many of the cult members came to greet the new edition. Some were too young to recognize her, but Nukzeh did. Heket, a bishop of the old faith, representing famine. Members who were unaware of her past like Alarty or Born Of Sin began to ask her questions. Where did she come from? Or what’s her name? Heket seemed to have trouble speaking, not like she was nervous, but as if she couldn’t make any sounds. That’s when Nukzeh noticed the bandages around the former bishop’s throat.
Leshy was especially happy to see–or smell–her. The moment Leshy noticed Heket he gave her a big hug. Happy to see his sister I guess. Nukzeh noticed The One Who Waits straying from the crowd. Odd
The Lamb approached Heket with a new robe to change into. A gray and gold cloth with a white undershirt.
The day ended with the cultists returning to their homes. Huty was just waking up to finish any work left over. Heket took a hut at the front of the neighborhood, right beside Leshy.
Today was an interesting day…