"You are a Healer, a doctor"/ Yes I am.
"Yet you are a devout follower of Mistress Dark"/ Yes I am
"But you fight Her constantly."/ No I don't.
"I don't understand."/ I do what I can to save my patients, alleviate pain, treat illness and injury. But when She comes, and there is no way back, I can at least give them comfort in knowing they do not journey to the next world alone. -- BKF
Hospitals do double duty as temples to Lenus, the god of healing. So it is natural to assume that the Healers and Clerics who work within are also followers of Lenus. All the better to perform the primary duty of restoring health and well-being to those who come there.
It's only natural to see many hospital workers wearing a brooch depicting the gentle curve of a willow branch. Which is Lenus' symbol.
That's why it was so shocking for the trainee healer -and Hellkin- Vigor to see a black enamel feather on hir teacher's lapel. It was so unexpected that Vigor had to look twice. "You're... wearing the symbol of the wrong god," ze risked.
The Human woman, Siannem, smiled gently. "Many might think so. The all-welcoming hostess knows who is on her list and who is not. She knows who she will gather and who she passes by. I have a duty to both."
"But... Our job at this temple is to fight her."
"So you may think," Siannem continued her work of carefully preparing balms. "It is our job to help others. To heal where we can and provide at least comfort when we cannot heal. Have you not sat with the dying?"
"Not... often. Not yet." Vigor had to look away and clutch at the willow twig hanging from a thong around hir neck. Until ze took the complete vows and finished hir training, ze would not be entitled to a brooch. "I don't like it when He doesn't answer my prayers for recovery."
"Some wounds simply cannot be healed," said Siannem. "Some ailments have no recovery. You know this, yes?"
A deep breath. A long sigh. "I know it. I hate it. It's not fair."
"Isn't it? A world without death would be just as miserable as a world without life. Think on it. If nothing dies, there is no food for the living. Either the world is crowded with starving throngs as the population ceaselessly increases, or all are immortal and there are no children to raise and teach. And therefore no more wonder to witness."
"And lo the fruits of Meridia must perish to make the hospitality of Freja," recited Vigor. "Life feeds on death. I should know this, yes. But I still mislike it when people die."
"Why only people?" asked Siannem. "Do you not shed a tear for the cockrel roasted for your dinner? Or the sheaves of wheat cut down to make your bread? Care you not for the apple in your lunch whose seeds it will never nourish? You must live to help others, and therefore other things die."
Vigor stood stone still in realisation. "By His blood, I've never thought that way about it. Thanks. You've re-ordered my relationship with food."
"Don't go starving yourself out of some misguided attempt at virtue," chided Siannem. "The worms in your grave won't be grateful for slim pickings."
"That sounded like you've said that a lot," grumbled Vigor.
"Every student who sees my feather undergoes the same debate, more or less," Siannem passed hir the finished balm. "Start packing that in the little pots. Half-full and no more." She returned to the topic. "So I have evolved some rehearsed lines. Now learn, youngling. Death is not an enemy. It is part of the great web that Shai twists and tangles for us all. Our lives are as much a part of Her work as any other living creature. A speck of mold is no more or less important than a mayor, for example. And... for those facing my goddess... I provide the most important service."
Vigor's eyebrows formed a worried peak on hir brow.
"I provide comfort and ease. So they go to Her without fear, and without fuss. And, most importantly, without pain. They never go alone. I am with them, before they meet Her. Sometimes, I may make introductions, but that is rarely necessary. And for those who have nobody to bake for them, I make them a loaf, too."
Vigor concentrated on doling balm out into the little pots. "I thought a follower of She Who Greets All wouldn't mourn."
"Mourning is also part of the process. A life lived must be remembered. A soul passed must be mourned. Such is the way of things."
"I don't have to like it," insisted Vigor.
"I never said you had to," soothed Siannem.
[Photo thanks to Deathshead419 Muchas gracias, friendo]
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