verse: Sedef, season 1
word count: 1,295
note: This is just a little worldbuilding I wanted to make into A Writing! There is a helpful little drawing at the bottom of the city districts :) content warning for first person lol. For those with eagle eyes, there is stuff being renamed, namely the city it takes place in! I hope you find this enjoyable to read :D
It was my first free day since arriving in this god forsaken city so I decided to explore outside the Amet gates today.
The Avecacher decumanus is a winding, complicated thing - the street goes on for so long that I do not see how the pilgrims do not lose their faith once they reach it. The first sun of the year seemed to have lured the whole city into the streets, including all the folk whose first day alive it apparently was. My situation got so dire after the third person bumped into me that I jumped the nearest fence into someone’s garden and finally managed to slip into one of the side streets.
My nose navigated my stomach through the narrow streets and stopped at the terrace of a tavern called Loze’s Garden of Earthly Delights. The stew of the day lived up to the name of the establishment but I was sadly hurried away as soon as I finished my meal to make way for the ever growing number of patrons.
I made my way south-east and the stench of the fish market told me I was in the Maine district. The promenade led me down to a shipyard where I spent some time watching shipwrights work. Three young men cursed at each other in different languages loud enough for me to hear over how to best saw a piece of wood and it reminded me of the time Danilo, Una and I had amputation praxis on that stupid doll. Once their little theatre play was over and the piece of wood was sawed off, I headed westward.
I noticed a strange curved wall and decided to follow it to an opening. What I had first assumed to be some kind of small amphitheatre was in fact a churchyard. The graves followed the curves of the walls making ten neat rows of descending levels. Three paths broke up the rows of graves - two leading from each of the two entrances to a statue and one leading from the statue to the church portal. The statue was made of stone and it portrayed a veiled figure with an ornate headdress in mourning. The veil covered them completely but the stonework was incredibly delicate and showed their hands covering their face in great detail, as if the veil was see through. I even dared to touch the grooves on the statue and I felt as if it would recoil from my touch.
I noticed the unusual quiet for something in the center of the city and wondered if the walls, which were as tall as the walls circling the city, made this effect possible. I hadn’t noticed it from outside, but from the inside it was apparent they curved inwards, almost creating a dome. As I headed for the church portal, I passed a couple people in quiet grief.
From the top to the bottom of the portal snaked an intricate mesh of reliefs and sentences. The sentences I could not decipher on account of my written Commun not being up to par but the reliefs weaved a story of the afterlife with the same mourning figure as the statue sat at the top of the arc. The story seemed to be of levels to the afterlife with perhaps the end goal being some sort of… reincarnation? Or ascension. Or complete obliteration of the soul. It was quite hard to tell, though I am admittedly not an expert in the arts or interpreting them.
I felt someone observing me from the window and when I noticed her, she stepped out of the church. A nun, I assumed. The design on her tabard echoed the architectural elements of the church and a veil hung over her coif and stopped at her elbows, all in shades of dark reds, purples and tanned leather, most notably on her boots, gloves and belt. She looked unusual and all the leather on her seemed a bit out of place for the warm weather, but I wrote it off as either the uniform demanding all this coverage or her own thermal sensitivity. She was of a darker completion than my own, stood barely to my ribcage and supported herself on a walking cane.
After I explained to her how I would like to know more about this place, she invited me for a game of chess which I enthusiastically agreed to. We sat on a bench in the portico and she spoke to me about the church and the Nilleaterites.
This place is called the Depression Basilica of Nilleatere, on account of the descending leveled nature of the space. The Nilleaterite sect is an interesting mixture of ancient folkloric beliefs held by the people of the region, spiritual beliefs shared by sea trade and the Andula empire’s own Psalmism religion they pushed onto the people some five centuries ago. Nilleatere was a leader during the initial occupation of Avecacher and was deified for her fight for independence, but over time the Psalmist push got too strong and Nilleatere got sneakily squeezed into their confines. There is a cycle they practice with their dead - first they are buried inside the Basilica walls and await for the nearest Solstice or Equinox, after which processions are held to take them to the cemetery proper outside of the city.
The bi-phasal burials piqued my interest and I expressed my concern about the smells and general unsafety of keeping the corpses inside the city walls to which she informed me they never had problems regarding this - the lower levels of the basilica functioned as an ice house and mortuary, and the building had a specialised ventilation system which lead the bad air outside of the city. Intrigued, I asked if I would be able to see the mortuary as a medical student myself but she refused my request with a facial expression I found hard to read but got the sense I had made a mistake in asking and decided not to push the topic. To my inquiry on how they dealt with problems of risen dead, she stated they had no such issues and I got the sense I should stop with my interrogation before I do more damage to the conversation. I couldn’t help the feeling of unease settling in me about night in this city.
We continued to play in silence and, despite my losing streak, I quite enjoyed our time together. The churchyard was a calm place and Maria, the nun, had this quiet comfort about her which made it easy to lose track of time. She seemed fond of insects and even helped a grasshopper onto my leg when I wasn’t looking. While I would normally not be entertained by this, her gentleness encouraged a gentleness in me and I took my time to study the freakish little thing. As I did so, she took one of my rooks which protected my king and put it in her mouth. This act bewildered me to such an extent, I had a burst of laughter which disturbed a nearby family and brought a grieving child into a crying fit.
This event burst my bubble of enjoyment and I realised it was getting quite late. If I wanted to meet Inja at the Beacon tavern before the Amet gates closed for the night, I had to hurry.
I have found myself to be far lonelier than I had hoped on this adventure and Maria is a welcome respite from the chaos of the rest of my world. I hope to see her again. And inquire once more about the access to the mortuary.
P.S. If you see mother or Petra, do let them know I am alive.
