#au!vanille

The sky glowed red and orange as the sun set over the harbor of Bevelle.The view from the Grand Temple of the city allowed for an excellent view, set as high as it was. It was certainly one of the better parts of evening guard duty, being able to watch the sunset, with Evrae wheeling lazily through the air. The majestic serpent seemed to enjoy dawn and dusk best out of all the times of day and it was always heartening to see Bevelle's guardian in its natural element.

Soon enough, the swirl of people leaving the evening service flowed out from the Temple, and their chatter filled the air. Monks, priests and priestesses, and the common folk of Spira, all indistinguishable in the mass of people, united in their devotion. The lilting call of hymns rose over the white noise of the people, clear and hopeful. It was not the Hymn, of course. Services began and ended with hope - the hope that Sin would someday be forever gone - and while the fayth were instrumental in the Pilgrimages that brought said hope to the people, their song was... mournful, and human voices only a pale imitation. The Hymn was sung by choirs, in the middle of services, but not the beginning or end.

The last of the people were filtering away, and he adjusted his grip on his sword, stretching his hands for a moment so that they wouldn't lock up. A while longer and then back to the barracks. It has been a long day.

Sudden footsteps, running. The slap of soft shoes against the stonework of the Temple courtyard. The sound was so out of place - who would run in the Grand Temple of Bevelle, of Bahamut? - that Auron turned to look for its source, ready to give the perpetrator a dressing-down for their blatant disrespect. The turn and alertness was what saved him - the steps turned out to be closer than he had realized, and all he saw was a glimpse of ginger-pink before the person slammed bodily into him. The impact only set him back a half-step to regain his balance, but the other ricocheted and stumbled to the ground. He was about to level a glare and a scathing remark when he saw the summoner's vestments the other wore, and the distress written clear upon her face. So instead he knelt, offering his hand.