Ficbit. As Many Gods...

[moonsheen]

Only six students had walked out on the first lecture; an unusually thick skinned class, for Alazlam J. Durai. Generally half of the hall cleared out around the time he started calling God a lie. Another good portion generally left when he mentioned the expected workload. Yet somehow against all reason, the rows up to the back hall were still occupied and, what’s more, students were actually loitering. Talking amongst themselves. Not slinking out like they thought they might be arrested for heresy. The professor collapsed his pointer, got to packing away his crumpled notes, and wondered if perhaps he was due for another inquiry or if he was actually just losing his touch.

Nevertheless, the hall was still duly emptied when he noticed the girl.

She was one of the ones who’d stayed, though she hadn’t been gossiping in the back aisles. She’d been sitting in the front row, actually. This was most of the reason of why he’d noticed her particularly. She’d scribbled notes quite furiously and her face never showed anything less than a solemn, pale cast. She was wearing it now, as she watched him. Her hair was cropped short, save a ridiculous black braid that swung against her cheek. It was a style among young, unmarried women these days. She held herself at the elbows. Without her nose to the desk, he could see now she had a pair of very sharp dark eyes that seemed to be fixed on movements of his wrists.

The quiet type, he assumed, glancing at her.

However she took this as permission and said: “Professor Durai, I do not believe that statement was correct.”

Her voice was very clear and very bold. One to take mistakes in stride, Alazlam put a few marks on one of his stray pages and quirked his brow: “Which statement, Young Lady. You will have to specify. I made rather a few.”

“‘In our Godly state, we pay tribute to the Church and the Church pays tribute to its Gods.’”

He blinked at her. She had all of her books and pages pressed snugly against her stomach. “… that is most specific.”

“You asked, Professor.”

“Well, then. In what part of that have I erred?”

“Gods, Professor.”

“Gods,” mused Alazlam.

“The Iocus faith acknowledges only one.”

“Ah,” said Alazlam.

“But you would know this,” said the girl, with a quizzical tip of her head. “You are one of the best known theologians of the age.”

“Am I now!”

“Why did you say ‘Gods’?”

He looked at her, nearly expecting that hopeless look some students assumed when completely and utterly stumped. The girl simply looked curious, as though she were inquiring into the color of his tea set. Curious, and solemn as ever, and the professor had to laugh a little for her effort.

“Ah,” he said, “Ah. I like your phrasing, Miss…” He circled a finger expectantly.

“Merlose,” said the student, automatically.

“Miss Merlose,” he snapped his fingers. “I like your phrasing. You say ‘I do not believe that statement was correct.’ You opened this discussion with an accusation. Your stance, your manner. Quite accusing! Yet you took the care to phrase it as an opinion, and a personal one. ‘I believe…’ you say. Leaving me room to dismiss you, should I have taken offense. Also, I suppose, room to dismiss yourself should I have taken offense…very clever, Miss Merlose. Was that intentional?”

“Professor?”

He let it go with an easy dropping of his hand. “You say ‘I do not believe that statement was correct.’ I say ‘I believe it was perfectly correct.’”

“Then…” The student frowned. It wasn’t very different from her lips natural line, just a slight quirking of the corners down. “How so? By what virtue?”

“By virtue of the fact that we are two individuals who have brought forth two different beliefs and yet have laid them upon the same table, in regards to the same topic.”

“But, Professor! Faith a collective belief, is it not?”

He smiled. “How collective?” When she had no immediate response he continued: “Belief is about as uniform as that class I have just taught. Which is to say, you may have been all sitting in the same room, but I’d certainly wager you all have different names I am going to have to at least pretend I can memorize completely. Faith is very much the same. There are as many faiths as there are people at services. There are as many Gods are there are people in this city. Merciful Gods, Vengeful Gods, Motherly Gods, Mournful Gods…it may be given the same name and ceremony it will be different within the individual’s heart.”

“Isn’t that simply a different interpretation?”

“But what is a God on a whole if not an interpretation of some force beyond our understanding?”

The girl’s eyes flashed. “But it isn’t!” When the professor arched his brow at her again she continued, shaking her head so that the braid against her cheek bounced slightly: “Beyond our understanding! If it is as you say… if it is something captured within the human heart one only needs to divine that have some fraction of that greater will--! Man is not so hard to read, it merely takes patience, and the proper method--”

“Miss Merlose?”

“…yes?”

“You are studying Psychology, aren’t you?”

“Yes.”

“And is this your first year?”

“Yes.”

“I thought as much,” observed Alazlam. “You’re very passionate about it, aren’t you.”

The student sank back, duly humbled. He wasn’t entirely sure how humbled, though. The line of her shoulders hadn’t faded in the slightest and she still had that very intent set to her jaw. There was a hint of color to her cheeks. She was young, of that there could be no doubt.

“I…” she said softly, shaking her head. “Is a matter of interest to me. T..that is all.”

The professor shook his head. “Not all,” he corrected, not unkindly. “Never ‘all’, Miss Merlose. I have a meeting after this class.” He was already late for it, but really whoever counted punctuality among his finer traits? “Come to my office, during my hours. I would like to continue this conversation…. should you be able to find the place in this institution's lovely example of architectural malpractice.”

The student bowed her head. “I will do that, Professor Durai.”

“Find it? I hope so. I’ve yet to master that.” He gathered his notes under his arm. “…I look forward to seeing you,” he said, and left the girl to her own devices in the empty lecture hall.

Comments

[motorbike.livejournal.com]

Your dialogue always flows and makes these fabulous character studies. Also: GAMES IN NEED TO FINISH: ITEM ONE. Matsuno's women are amazing.

[alexsirkman.livejournal.com]

Amazing as always ^___^ *hugs* And somehow, I find myself identifying with someone studying religion ^^;

<3!

[sarisa.livejournal.com]

Fandom tends to forget that Callo has not one, but two doctorates.

ooh! Very nice.

[bmouse.livejournal.com]

I like this. The fact that it's nice VS gen fic alone is awesome. I think this fits a lot with how Merlose is in the game. She's very serious, but you get the feeling that she's also analyzing everyone; her interactions with Hardin just reinforce that.

This story does kind of make me wonder what she was doing on the Lea Monde mission in the first place... trying to get data for her thesis "The Affects of Vera Abuse on the Damadged Psyche"?