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The temple was made of a white, goldshot marble that reflected the sun brilliantly any time it was more than peeking a hair over the horizon. In the full brilliance of the afternoon sun's glare, it was almost imposing. Subtle enchantments made the gold that wove through the marble seem to writhe like fire in the corner of one's eye. The walkway to the main doorway was lined by ochre, crimson, white, and orange lilies and paved with a warm sandy colored stone. Surrounding the flowers and the temple were low walls of smooth, blue quartz. These fell in alternating rays with the flowers and also formed what the woman assumed were concentric circles radiating out from the temple. She felt it a safe bet to assume that the entire thing looked like a solar painting when viewed from above.
If the temple itself was a remarkable bit of architecture, then each priest and priestess was a work of dedicated art. They moved among the flowerbeds and paths in white robes trimmed in cerulean or gilt stitching, sandals with gold bands upon their feet. Some had shaven heads and had intricate solar tattoos upon their scalps, while others wore long hair in intricate fashion and had golden leather twisted around it or had strung gold and blue beads throughout. None at all had black hair; either natural, lightened, or stained, they all had hair of blonde, red, or a henna crimson. Most had facial tattoos, earrings, or other signs of dedication to their work.
The woman felt like a muddy smear in the rays of the sun. To their credit, very few of the workers even seemed to take notice of her, and those that did offered little more than a nod once they realized that she came unarmed. If only they knew.
The door stood open, unguarded. Past it, the temple was just as beautiful within as without. Where she had supposed might be a ceiling of more of the white marble, there was instead a skylight of the clearest, smoothest glass the woman had ever seen produced. It spanned the entire hallway and when she stepped into the central atrium, it formed an unfacetted dome arcing high and letting the untarnished light of the sun in. Not a single beam appeared to support the dome. The floor was done in a tile mosaic that reflected the color scheme of outside on a smaller scale. For a long moment, she stood in awe. She'd never been to such a temple. She'd never been to most sorts of temple, if she was honest with herself. She had a mild distrust of clerics and religion that kept her away from such places. For a moment, she felt mild regret that she had missed out on such wonders as such a seamless ceiling, such magnificent architecture.
She made her way around the atrium, avoiding the center, where a gradual slope lead to a white circular design in the tiles of the floor. There, several bookshelves in what appeared to be white oak rose up straight in seeming defiance of the sloped floor. Clerics occasionally wandered in or out of the area, engaged in their studies. Here, though, not all were white robed. Some were in simple yellow or blue robes, and a few wore trousers and tunics of the purest azure coloring she had ever seen.
If the temple itself was a remarkable bit of architecture, then each priest and priestess was a work of dedicated art. They moved among the flowerbeds and paths in white robes trimmed in cerulean or gilt stitching, sandals with gold bands upon their feet. Some had shaven heads and had intricate solar tattoos upon their scalps, while others wore long hair in intricate fashion and had golden leather twisted around it or had strung gold and blue beads throughout. None at all had black hair; either natural, lightened, or stained, they all had hair of blonde, red, or a henna crimson. Most had facial tattoos, earrings, or other signs of dedication to their work.
The woman felt like a muddy smear in the rays of the sun. To their credit, very few of the workers even seemed to take notice of her, and those that did offered little more than a nod once they realized that she came unarmed. If only they knew.
The door stood open, unguarded. Past it, the temple was just as beautiful within as without. Where she had supposed might be a ceiling of more of the white marble, there was instead a skylight of the clearest, smoothest glass the woman had ever seen produced. It spanned the entire hallway and when she stepped into the central atrium, it formed an unfacetted dome arcing high and letting the untarnished light of the sun in. Not a single beam appeared to support the dome. The floor was done in a tile mosaic that reflected the color scheme of outside on a smaller scale. For a long moment, she stood in awe. She'd never been to such a temple. She'd never been to most sorts of temple, if she was honest with herself. She had a mild distrust of clerics and religion that kept her away from such places. For a moment, she felt mild regret that she had missed out on such wonders as such a seamless ceiling, such magnificent architecture.
She made her way around the atrium, avoiding the center, where a gradual slope lead to a white circular design in the tiles of the floor. There, several bookshelves in what appeared to be white oak rose up straight in seeming defiance of the sloped floor. Clerics occasionally wandered in or out of the area, engaged in their studies. Here, though, not all were white robed. Some were in simple yellow or blue robes, and a few wore trousers and tunics of the purest azure coloring she had ever seen.