Angels of the Four Divines

by peechitothemax

Summary:

After being on the run from religious prosecution, Jamie finds what he believes to be the perfect little town. Soon enough, things will slowly reveal themselves to not be as good as it seems.

Notes:

first work on ao3... this is a story i will update as i can, im a full time college student

Chapter 1: Welcome to Aurora

The sound of footsteps was all that could be heard. They were loud, uneven, and mixed over the sound of rapid breathing. Jamie was on the run, and he had been for days at this point. His black, curly hair stuck in his mouth, and he was done with bothering to pull it out as he took in gasping breaths, turning to glance behind him every few seconds.

To the town he had been living in, he’d committed awful monstrosities. To him, all he had been doing was showing love. Jamie knew the day would come when he had to leave; that day always came. He moved from small town to small town, hoping to find a job that would just barely make a living. 

In each town, there was always someone looking for comfort. An intimate comfort that he could provide. Jamie was as much a cowboy as the men who sat beside him in bars, who drank all their woes away in the same way he did. But they weren’t accepting of a gay man, and that was a given. When the newspapers rolled in with headlines about how some faggot had been beaten to death, it was all the town could talk about. They’d point and laugh at the black and white image, the poor victim’s face dark with blood and pain, but never once regret.

Jamie often tried to distance himself when conversations like that came up, and whenever it got brought up to him, he’d chuckle and let out some comment about how the man deserved it. What not a single one of them knew was who he had been with. Well, those people always knew who they were, hiding from just as much as he had been. From town to town, it was never hard to find someone hiding. There was a system he had learned fondly, and it didn’t involve eye contact. Rather, it involved a handkerchief. The color signified something important, but the pocket it hung out of was just as important. Common colors came up, and depending on how he felt, he’d even change which one he wore. Dark blue, representing the act of anal itself, was the most common one. 

On the fateful night, before anything had happened, he walked into the bar, a blue handkerchief sticking out of his right back pocket. His cowboy hat flattened the top of his curly hair, which didn’t stay as he pulled it off his head and set it on the bar counter. “Budwiser,” Jamie spoke plainly, his voice intentionally bland and cold. A bottle was set in front of him, and he didn’t look back at the bartender after that point. Instead, a man sat beside him. His appearance was unassuming, and the man was gruff. He had a thick beard, ungroomed eyebrows, and a dirty, crooked smile. He only glanced at Jamie from the side, never engaging in a conversation. 

Jamie’s appearance contrasted with his well. He was of an average height and had a more feminine wile about him. He had lean muscles, hidden beneath his worn long-sleeved shirt. He had long, dark, loosely curled hair that rested against his shoulders and dark eyes to match. They were anything but friendly, keeping a hard exterior as he finished the beer. 

The night went on like that, and the two never spoke. He slid over a ten-dollar bill to the bartender, and in a lapse of judgment, his eyes shifted to the man who had been sitting beside him all night. They made eye contact for only a second, but that was more than enough. His eyes shifted as he stood, and he noticed the matching bandana hanging out of the left side of the man’s pants. That was all that needed to be done. He cleared his throat as he left the building, and a minute later, the man followed along similarly. He followed along distantly behind Jamie, a curl pulling up on the stranger’s mouth. The town was small to begin with, and the downtown area was barren, but that never stopped people from being who they truly were. 

Jamie turned a corner down an alley, slipping into a door that didn’t have a business name above it. What was inside was a lobby, lit with nothing more than red dim lights. And it was empty, behind the counter, keys hung on a wall, paired to a room number. A hotel, one that seemed empty and not busy at all. But Jamie was a regular here; he had been for as long as he lived in that hellhole of a town. And this man? He was new here, but he could never mistake all that a short look could say. The man was desperate, which was why he followed along so fast. 

Jamie plucked a pair of keys off the wall, and as he pushed back from the counter, the front door swung open. Jamie’s eyes shifted across the room to him. Was it even possible to have such a connection without words? Jamie didn’t need words; the less he knew, the better. There was a lesser chance that anything would happen between them. 

Jamie led him back, down a hall, and the thin walls left little to the imagination. He pushed their room open and pulled the man into it. The door slammed shut, and the first moment of privacy was when the stranger’s demeanor changed. His walls fell right before Jamie’s eyes, and that feeling had become addictive. He let out a heavy breath, and the man kept his face on Jamie. Jamie took small steps backwards until his leg hit the bed, and he pulled his shirt over his head. A small, gold cross necklace shimmered in the red light, pressed coldly on his skin. A tattoo sat just below it, also a cross, etched into his skin with black ink like a reminder. But Jamie had prayed, he’d repented, he’d begged for forgiveness, and none of it ever seemed to work. 

“You’re sure about this?” It was the first sentence he said to the man, both had stripped their clothes, and the man had laid him onto the bed. His hair scattered against the pillow, his eyes focused on the man as he now straddled him, legs spread wide. 

“Shut the fuck up.” The man rolled his eyes. He wasn’t here to think about what was right and what was wrong. Jamie cracked a wide smirk, hearing his reaction. And he did just that. Well, he did that as long as possible. But his head tilted back, and he let out an involuntary gasp, his fingers digging into the bed sheets. And as much as he wanted to let out cocky comments towards the stranger as he pushed himself in, he couldn’t. His head pressed hard into the pillow as he tried to ground himself. If this was making him go to hell, why did it feel like heaven? It was a cruel joke. 

There was no love in this either; Jamie didn’t want love, and the man seemed to make it clear he agreed on that sentiment. Any words were ones he moaned out in place of the name he never knew. He let out heaving breaths, which was the only thing keeping him sane as his brain melted into the familiar feeling he missed more and more, it seemed. Tears dripped from his eyes, staining the off-white pillow. “Wait- wait, no, I-” His eyes pressed shut, this was just too much, was any of this possible? It felt like he was in his stomach; he couldn’t take this. And moment by moment, Jamie grew unruly, moaning out that the man had to stop, he was going to kill him. 

And in what felt like forever, everythhing had melted away except for this man, whose expression was tight, angry, like he was working towards a goal and nothing else. He let out low grunts, fueled by the power every time he moved. 

It was only then that there was an unfamiliar sound. A commotion from outside their room, but neither of them seemed to slow down or want to stop and check. They were in this too deep, literally. 

And as there was a vague rummaging, and a distant yelling, they never stopped. In fact, Jamie had become impossibly loud as his climax inched closer and closer. Then suddenly, their door burst open. Which should have been impossible, they had the only key. Whoever burst through the door had almost ripped it off its hinges. In what seemed like the poorest moment, an entire mob of people had to see Jamie, moaning and crying, forearm pressed against his forehead as he came. There had been a moment of silence from the mob, which almost made it hard to know they were there. That was, until that exact moment, where everyone began to shout out in disgust. 

“Mr. Roland?” One voice asked out, a confused horror. “As in, of Roland farms?” People let out gasps as they realized what was happening. Jamie froze, his head turned on the pillow, his face bright red, his breathing still fast and uneven, but that he couldn’t stop. The man, too, froze as he realized who was around him. Roland farms was a big local farm, produced almost eighty percent of the local produce, and the man above Jamie was the founder and owner. He was a well known figure head, and Jamie was already on the fence with all the townspeople. 

Roland pulled away fast, pulling the blanket over himself, looking away from the crowd. But besides that initial acknowledgment of who he was, they didn’t focus on him. No, they focused their attention to Jamie, who had tumbled out of bed and was pulling on his pants in a hurried fashion. “You faggot!” One woman screeched, hurdling after Jamie as he stood back up. “Mr. Roland is a good man! How dare you force him on you like this, you’re a monster,” she sobbed out, tossing loosely closed fists at him. It wasn’t the point they didn’t do much damage, more what it meant. 

The rest of the crowd follow suit, yelling and shouting, and all of it seemed to come back on him rather than the man who had clothed himself, and had people comforting him like it was all Jamie’s fault. When had it ever? His expression fell, hurt, glancing at Roland. How could he not clear this up? Clearly his reputation meant more, and if Jamie could take all the blame, that was how he was going to frame it. Like Jamie got him drunk, had forced him back here. Whatever they had, it had all been consensual. Jamie had his shirt in his hand by this point, and people had begun to claw at him, trying to grab his wrists and stop him. “You monster! You need to be stopped, you need to be hanged, you dirty homosexual.” Another voice rang out, getting a grasp of his wrist, he almost didn’t wiggle free from it, making a hot dash through the door, pushing past people who hardly had a moment to react. 

There was no time to argue with Roland over this, how he should take credit for his actions. That wasn’t how this worked. They lived in a conservative town, one that easily prioritized money and status over everything. Not that Jamie had been a big help to the town. No, they had hated him since the moment he arrived, and only dealt with him. This was a reason to do what they always wanted to do: kill him. 

His shirt remained balled up in his fist as he made a break for it. There was hardly a thing to hide behind as he ran, no building, nothing. He couldn’t even make it back to where he was staying to grab anything. He just had to leave; the mob ran behind him, yelling obscenities and doing all but holding pitchforks. Jamie had to get out. He made a right, heading away from whatever civilization the town had been, and off through a dusty, dry field. 

Any hint of pleasure had disappeared in the blink of an eye, and now had been replaced with a total fear like he had never felt before. Jamie had grown complacent; he never thought he would get caught, and he never understood why people were bothered by it so much. He’d made amends with God, and he asked forgiveness every single day. Can’t that be enough? In fact, as he ran, he silently prayed. He prayed that everything was going to be okay, and he wasn’t entirely sure that was the truth. But he wanted it to be. 

Hours passed, and he had stopped looking back. He was too scared. And he didn’t notice as the noise behind him had faded. People, one by one, decided that if he kept running, that was good enough. Jamie wouldn’t dare come back, and that was the truth. Instead, he silently worried about the fate of all of his belongings. He knew that they’d put his horse down, and from then on, he knew he’d be alone. But he didn’t stop running; he didn’t dare turn around and go back, his fate would be worse than the horse’s. 

As the sun set, and darkness fell over the forest he had found, he knew he had to rest at least for a few minutes. He had shimmied his shirt on while running hours before, and it was dirtied with kicked-up dirt and unfortunate falls. The sound of them following ended long ago, but he was paranoid they still followed further behind now. So he couldn’t rest long. What if they had lights? They were at far more of an advantage than he was. Jamie pressed his back into a large tree trunk, knowing it was safest if people couldn’t sneak up behind him. He fell asleep like that, sitting up with his back against the tree. It was an exhausted, bleak sleep. He woke up as the sun rose and was quickly on the move once more. Now that he hadn’t been found over the night, his goal became finding some sort of civilization. A place to get proper food, maybe save up just enough for a ride far away. 

Civilization never came. Not even when his stomach growled at him like he’d never had food before. He would pick at berries on the ground, but he didn’t have as much as anything to catch food, and he had to keep moving. Once again, night came, and it seemed to do that enough he’d lost count days ago. Jamie was weak, exhausted, and truly just wanted someplace to rest his head. He would have taken even a single house, a long dirt road, some sign that he didn’t wander to some place where people simply didn’t exist. 

Over these few days, an intense guilt had washed over him. The type that had him in tears, that had him dropping to his knees out of nowhere, placing his head on the ground, begging for a new start, to be found. He was going to die like this, and Jamie wasn’t cut out for it. But really, was he made for a life of pretending either? Of kissing women he grew to hate, that he was jealous of because they could boast about the boys they loved. All the thoughts of everything he’d ever done came over him on his run, which had now become a walk. It had been days, weeks. His hair was dirty and matted, his clothes old and tattered with time. He had lost that poor hat in the bar that fateful night. All he had that he really still cared about was the necklace, which he found he grasped onto as he whispered his prayers, apologizing that he didn’t know what day it was, for missing church. 

That didn’t matter anymore, it should have been the last of his worries. He was hungry enough that his stomach had stopped growling, and instead, his stomach ate away at itself. The tree canopy provided shade and a cool breeze, but it never seemed to end. No one lived in these woods, it was a futile effort. His head hung low, watching feet lazily trudge along. He should give up; he was tired enough that if he sat to rest, it wasn’t possible to stand back up. Just as he stopped, his head came back up, and it was then that he saw the fateful sign of life. 

There stood a tall, cobbled stone wall, even, clean, cemented together with moss and time. This was man-made; whatever was on the other side had to have people near it. So he gathered all of his energy, inhaled sharply, and began to run towards the wall. With his luck, it would have been centuries old, abandoned long ago. He had to try. So as he got near the wall, he began to climb up, pulling his body weight to the top. 

As his head peeked over, his heart sank. It was good news, of course, but it was just so long overdue he didn’t know how to feel. What he saw was a vast, open grassy field. Green as far as he could see. And in the middle, far from where he stood, there was what looked like a town, old, but well-maintained. Thatch-roofed buildings lined a clean dirt road. And in the center of the town was one of the tallest buildings he had ever seen. An even stone brick that ascended high into the air like a castle. Like he had been teleported back to the Middle Ages, and as he went to climb down the other side of the wall into the perfect Haven, he slipped. This stone wall wasn’t as sturdy as it looked, nor as well constructed as the stone tower was. The rock fell, and so did he. 

Too tired to scream, he fell in a silent descent, a gasp of air leaving as he fell, and a loud grunt as he fell to the ground. And there, for a moment, he didn’t move. The fall was far for someone as weak as he was. Instead, he stayed still, wondering how ironic it was that he had been so close to what looked like paradise. His body ached more now than ever. 

There was a soft breeze, the rustle of the few trees remaining on the edge of the wall. Then, a soft footstep. Then, a head leaned over him. Hair as white as snow, long enough that he could have reached his arms out and felt it, but his arms didn’t move. Above him was a tall man, lean, but his form was hidden beneath what looked like a dress, something long, white, and it flowed in the breeze. There was a silent interest on the man’s face, his eyes fluttering, a bright blue eye hidden as a smile appeared on his face. “Welcome to Aurora."

Chapter 2: Evening Prayers

Summary:

After falling into Enan's life, Jamie is welcomed to Aurora.

“Welcome to Aurora, the town will be so glad to see someone who has fallen from the sky.” There was something so innocent in the man’s words, like harm had never touched him, and he had no reason to worry. 

“I just fell, is all,” Jamie replied, tone groggy as he tried to sit up. But he didn’t stand, needing another moment. 

“My name is Enan,” the blonde man said, sticking his hand, unclear if it was for a handshake or to help Jamie up. Jamie took it anyway, standing up with a bit of a stumble. 

“Jamie,” he replied, trying to fix his hair and pat the dust off of him, but that deed was impossible. Looking up, it was clear to see Enan now. He was taller than Jamie, his hair a white blonde, pin-straight and falling almost halfway down his back. It was also clear to see that what he wore was a white… sheet of sorts. It covered all the way just above his feet; it was thin and definitely an odd choice. But he was too out of it to say anything. 

“Please, come with me, they’ll be so happy to see you.” Before Jamie could say anything, deny anything, Enan took his hand, his fingers interlocking tightly. He brought the man along, out of the edge of the wooded area, and closer to the town he had been overlooking before he fell. Here, it was easier to see the bustling town, all filled with people wearing identical smocks. And the blonde man seemed unfazed by that, like it was normal. As they walked between markets and houses, Jamie couldn’t help but eye everything. The people in the town did the same, watching the unfamiliar face pass by. 

He was new, so he understood to an extent why they watched. But it was more than that, their eyes sharp, and some, cautious. The younger children seemed to be on a different page, smiling and even approaching him with wonder. One thing stood clear—his own outfit turned out to be the odd one. These long, white robes were a common theme, regardless of age or gender. A young boy tugged at Jamie’s worn jeans. “What is he wearing, Enan?” The boy asked the question towards the blonde man, never addressing Jamie, even though he was looking directly at him. 

Enan smiled, but looked at Jamie like he didn’t know the answer. “Well, he doesn’t bite, why don’t you ask?” His tone was low and calm; he was good at speaking with the children. Enan gave the boy confidence, too; that small push was all he needed to be truly comfortable with the stranger. 

He didn’t need to ask the question again, simply turning his head and looking up at Jamie with big brown doe eyes. “Well, this is just what I put on in the morning, like what you’re wearing.” The answer didn’t provide clarity, but the kid had already moved on from the topic. 

“You look funny,” the boy mumbled as his eyes fell into a squint, but he didn’t elaborate on why, moving on fast. A friend caught his eye, or perhaps a butterfly passing by. Either way, he ran off as fast as he had come over. Jamie couldn’t help but silently chuckle at the interaction. 

As they walked through the town, there was something idyllic about it. The sun shone perfectly, creating a yellow, inviting haze over the town. Jamie, by comparison, was dirty and unwelcoming. His clothes and appearance made him appear threatening, which many people prioritized over the fact that he was a new and novel person. 

They approached the tall building in the center of the town, which became even more showstopping the closer they got. Each brick held intricate carvings, as if telling countless stories he had never heard of before. Was this a Church? It had to be. Some carvings included foreign language, unique symbols, and vaguely similar-looking men. Like one timeline, or the stories of four unique-looking men. Everyone else in the stories had no identifying features. Jamie was quiet, too nervous to say anything. But he didn’t question anything, especially not the odd behavior of the townspeople. 

When they arrived at the tall, wooden door, Enan was quick to knock, an eager sparkle in his eyes as he tapped out a rhythmic pattern. The tall door slowly swung open just enough to let light into the darkness. A woman with short stature opened the door, and she looked vaguely like Enan, besides her height. Long, blonde hair, a sweet and warm expression, despite her look being blank. Her robe wasn’t white. No, her outfit was a deep blue, with gold embellishments about her outfit, which fit firmly to her body shape. 

“Enan? What’s wrong, my child?” her expression shaped solemnly as she looked up at the man, as if Jamie wasn’t there at all. Then, before Enan spoke, she suddenly became aware of him. Her expression changed once more, hardening up, like she was building walls specifically for Jamie to be blocked out. “Let me get them,” her tone was soft, her eyes only leaving Jamie as she shut the door, turned away, and hurried off. 

Enan, however, had a big, stupid smile on his face, still excited about Jamie. He was new, and Enan liked to meet people. Living in Aurora, you quickly knew everyone well. Well enough that you grew bored. Enan did, at least. 

The door remained shut for a good handful of moments, but Enan never seemed to grow weary, having confidence that the door would open once again. 

Then, another creek as the door opened wider, this time, the room lit with torches hung high on the wall and chandeliers on the ceiling. A man was standing there this time, the woman standing a few steps back, her eyes stuck on Jamie. Enan’s expression fell only slightly when he saw the man, but a smile existed on his face. “He fell out of the sky, Father,” Enan spoke, his eyebrows raised, the smile growing wider. The man’s eyes shifted to Jamie. 

Hair whitened by time, short and seemingly freshly trimmed. He stood tall, with perfect posture, his eyes being the only thing that looked down at Jamie rather than his whole head moving, trying to assert dominance. His robe was a matching blue to the woman’s, his designs different from hers, but just as flowery. Enan hushed as soon as the man looked away from him. He swallowed hard. 

There was a long moment where the man didn’t say a single thing, looking over Jamie, his jeans, his dirty hair. But there was something inherently different about the woman—and now this man—looked at him. There was fear, but not that the man was a danger; it was far more deep-seated than that. It was the look that Jamie could unravel everything, the reason outsiders never lasted long. Enan didn’t know that, no one did, besides the people who lived within the brick walls. People assumed they chose not to stay, which was a foreign concept. No one had been outside those walls. This was their home, their haven. Outside those walls lived savages; here, the Four Divines provided all they could need, and all they asked was loyalty. 

Then, the silence broke, “Come in.” His tone was firm, and there was no messing around or freaking out. Enan guided Jamie inside, and it was only a moment later that the woman in blue was leading him away from Enan. She, too, hadn’t been all that keen on the new arrival. But she remained quiet and largely unimpressed. 

“Let us get you cleaned up.” She took him down a hall and into what could only be described as an indoor bathroom. There was a large wooden tub, which was empty as they walked in. What was also there were two more women. Both are absolutely stunning in their own ways, but there were a few things in common. They were similar in a few ways. They all wore gowns of various colors and styles, and they all looked on the younger side.

One began to draw the bath, manually having to pump the water from a well beside the heavy wooden tub. She was the tallest of the three and had a little more meat on her bones. She had thick, coiled hair; her skin could have been deeply tanned, but stood only partially tanned, likely from a lack of sunlight. She had a red gown, the gold contrasting well. The tub filled fast, and it was clear she had expertise in filling it. 

Then, another one moved across the room. She had hair all the way to her butt, and it was braided, each strand made up of a braid, her hair a fair orange. She seemed the sweetest of the three of them, her outfit a deep green, with the fewest embellishments. They didn’t say anything, but it was clear she was also the youngest, the green acting as a symbol towards to how she was still green behind the ears, and she still had her innocence. She moved toward Jamie now and, without saying anything, began to strip Jamie’s clothes from his body. 

The woman in blue cracked a small smile, like she enjoyed seeing the way he sort of froze up as the shirt was pulled over his head. “Your journey must have been difficult. Allow us to bathe you; you may rest now.” Her tone was firm, doing a poor job at seeming welcoming. But Jamie just wanted to fit in, to have a place to stay, so he didn’t move, only assisting her. He sort of tried to use his hands to allow himself a bit of decent, but none of them seemed to be bothered.

He was ushered towards the water, which was full by this point, and the woman in red sat there, working a bar between her hands, the soap lathering with ease. “I don’t have any other clothes besides those ones. I can get them cleaned up. You’ve all already done enough, letting me in.” 

An amused smile grew on the blonde’s face. “You will not need these. They will be cleansed, and you will be given the proper clothing; everything will be provided.” 

He stepped into the water, and the moment he sat, the woman picked up his arm, using the lather in her hands with a cloth against his skin, scrubbing with vigor, but not enough to hurt. She was silent and focused, her eyelashes fluttering gently. Jamie was taken off guard by her approach, but the younger ginger woman joined in only moments later. She took water in her hands, wetting his hair with small splashes. He just hoped he could keep the jewelry, which couldn’t be seen beneath his clumps of hair. The darker lighting also works in his favor to keep it hidden. His hair fell flat as it was wet, and she worked her thin fingers through his scalp, massaging the dirt out of it. 

His hair had been brushed through, every inch of his body had been scrubbed and cleaned until his skin was red from the pressure she scrubbed with, but he couldn’t find that he minded, tired and appreciative of the gesture. One thing seemed to lapse in every woman’s mind–the necklace still clasped around his neck. That was not touched even as he was taken out of the water and dried off. Like, somehow now a single one saw a thing. 

They brought out a white gown, slipping it over his head, his hair still drying by this point. “Enan will show you around before dinner begins.” At the mention of food, Jamie’s head perked up. 

“Is it too much to ask if I have something now? It’s been so long since I’ve had anything to eat.” With a small inhale, the blonde woman nodded, sneaking out of the room for no more than a few seconds. She returned with a thick piece of sliced bread, nothing on it. But to Jamie, it may as well have been a perfectly cooked pastry, lathered with all the best toppings. He was starving, and it looked so good. As soon as it was placed in his hands, he lifted the food to his face, scarfing the food down before she even got out what she wanted to say.

“This should tide you over for now. There will be lots of food for you later.” She said, ultimately, after he had finished the bread, his stomach making a loud noise, scolding him for the lack of food he’d consumed. He let out a contented sigh as he was led into another room, with a fireplace and only two seats. Enan was sitting in one of them, facing a roaring fire that was lighting the room. 

He was lost in thought, staring at the dancing flames until the moment Jamie walked into the room. His head turned before the man had made a sound, like he knew he was there. “Jamie,” Enan stated as he stood, his demeanor about the newcomer not changing. “Father spoke to me, and you can stay with me for the night. Until then, I must show you around.” He took hold of the man’s hand, intertwining his fingers without a second of doubt. They moved out of the building, pushing open the heavy wooden door back into the brightness of the day. 

“People will be glad to meet you, I’m sure you’ll be popular.” These words from Enan were sure, and he reassured himself with a small smile. 

They moved about the town, through a different section from the one they had been through when he first arrived, not even an hour before. “This is our blacksmith; he makes all of our cookware, our plows, and the knives that the butchers and cooks use; he’s quite talented.” Enan walked along, slowing his pace as he began to explain places, from the blacksmith, but also through what looked like a clothing repair shop, the butcher shop, a shoemaker, a bakery that smelled delightful, and a few storefronts that sold various goods, but people never exchanged cash. Maybe it was the exhaustion that made him miss the small detail. They walked further, leaving the active center of town where all the small abodes resided. This area had more children playing around, passing balls, repeating rhymes he couldn’t quite hear. 

“And this,” he finally stopped in front of a house, where there were flowers planted on the small patch of grass next to the door. “This is where you’ll be staying with me until you get settled in.” Enan seemed proud of the abode, and he had placed his hand on the handle to open it when bells began to ring, clearly coming from the center of town. Enan perked up. “Come, it is time for the dinner feast.” Enan took Jamie by the hand once more, bringing him close to the town center again. “I forgot to show you our dining hall. I’m sure you will love it. Fathers worked very hard on it; they worked hard to provide plenty of food for people every meal.” 

Jamie was led into a long building, clearly one of the older buildings. Inside sat everyone, and whoever was not inside shuffled inside with a calm, practiced demeanor. They seemed like ants, moving mindlessly at the chime of the bell. Everyone knew it was time for dinner. It was all the people from the village, which was larger than he had imagined. People were separated out into five tables. The fifth table has all the people in unique, colored outfits. The rest seemed to be organized vaguely by appearance. Enan, without realizing, walked off away from Jamie towards a table, sitting next to a younger girl with thick blonde hair, though her hair seemed far more yellow than Enan’s. Where was Jamie meant to sit? His eyes wandered about, trying to find an open spot where he would fit. 

Before he could do that, the man in blue stood, and in a loud, welcoming voice from across the room, he spoke directly to Jamie. “Come, sit over here.” It helped ease his anxiety of picking a table; the fear of being rejected was still instilled deep in him. He scurried over and sat at the one open table. There were all the women from before, but more people he had not yet met. Three men and one more woman. In total, the table had four men, four women, and then him. The men matched the colors that one of the women wore. This new couple wore black clothes, and the woman he had not yet met seemed the eldest of the four. She was also visibly pregnant, her hair a deep black, straight, and resting on her shoulders like it had recently been cut short, which she obviously was not used to. One odd thing, all the men looked far older than the woman. Some more than others, but the man in blue was the eldest of everyone at the table. 

“Welcome,” one man spoke, he was followed by a few cascading greetings, but not a single one of them truly felt real. Jamie didn’t notice the thick smell of food, and the sight of it on the table before him was distracting enough. 

“Let us begin prayer,” the blonde man said, standing up. Everyone in the whole dining hall followed, the shuffle of feet the only sound, and he waited until it became entirely silent. Jamie, of course, had followed. He was used to prayer before food, and had it long since memorized. He’d missed the small comforts that daily prayer brought him. Then, the man began to speak. 

“Let our food nourish you,

“Let us allow you to feast, our hard work will prove worth it,

“Thank the farmers, the butchers, and the Divine for all they do to make sure your stomach is filled with food.”

Every line was repeated by the townspeople, the words droning on, and Jamie was left clueless, not daring to peek his head up. What an odd prayer, one he had never heard before.