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[indent][sup][color=ab274f][b]Attire:[/b][/color] [url=https://i.imgur.com/6Xj8uUm.jpg]A toga (over a tunic) and sandals[/url]
[color=ab274f][b]Date and Time:[/b][/color] Sola 24th, Morning
[color=ab274f][b]Location:[/b][/color] The church
[color=ab274f][b]Mention(s):[/b][/color] [@Potter] Kira
[color=ab274f][b]Interaction(s):[/b][/color] [@Rodiak] Nahir, [@Lava Alckon] Farim, [@princess] Anastasia
[/sup][/indent][/cell][/row][/table][color=ab274f]“Appreciated,”[/color] Wulfric gave a slight incline of his head to Shehzadi Nahir in thanks as he sat down. [color=ab274f]“You as well,”[/color] he acknowledged Farim’s words with a succinct yet amicable response. His sister’s greeting drew a reluctant smile from him, though her following sigh had him raising an eyebrow at her. Anastasia hadn’t yet learned that [i]appearing[/i] friendly wasn’t the same as [i]being[/i] friendly. He wished daily that she wasn’t so easy to manipulate, yet neither his strict approach nor Auguste’s gentle one had had the desired effect so far.

He smoothed down his toga as he settled onto the pew, glad the seating order matter had been resolved much more smoothly than the incident he’d heard about having occurred at the Alidasht Dinner. He did not frankly care where he sat, but it was good to know that Kira wouldn’t be that close to Anastasia. Too, Ece had vacated her seat to escort and watch the intruding woman on Nahir’s orders. Now, that was useful. 

Perhaps, he should arrange something similar.

However, that was a consideration for later. As Nahir had noted, the service was starting shortly.

As the music receded, a priest walked in and bid them to rise. Wulfric did so smoothly, as did all those familiar with these proceedings.

There was shuffling at his feet, and peripherally, he noticed Monet’s son crawling on the floor. Wulfric decided to ignore the child even as Beau rose to stand next to him and furtively kept glancing at him. The chanting started then, and the prince joined in.

[color=ab274f]“Zivitas, bless us with your light,”[/color] he intoned, his voice one of many. His expression was solemn and earnest despite his underlying skepticism.

[color=ab274f][i]Is your light anything but an illusion? Do you cherish any life but his? Do you see how he uses you to aggrandize himself?[/i][/color]

He’d long since not been a believer as such. Even as a child, he had wondered if it was all just a bunch of stories. He could have forsaken them entirely. Instead, he heavily questioned the existence of Gods. The only thing he was certain of was that if deities existed, they were largely irrelevant to mortals, just as mortals were surely meaningless to them. Despite his doubts, he found himself holding these one-sided conversations. He practiced religious acts, not only in public, but in private too. 

In the past, some of the Gods, such as Zivitas, had received much of his bitterness and resentment. Yet, at times he had intensely hoped against hope that if the divine existed, they might safekeep those rare sparks of goodness remaining in the world.

By now, however? Honestly, he was largely apathetic. His strength of belief and emotions towards them had simply been ground down into near nonexistence.

Didn’t mean he couldn’t criticize them, even if they were merely a figment of humanity’s imagination.

[color=ab274f]“Triumpheus, guide us to triumph.”[/color] Well, he would welcome it if the victory in question was his coronation.

[color=ab274f]“Imperis, grant us your justice.”[/color] This goddess, he was exasperated with. [color=ab274f][i]Have you any ideas of my daily struggles against encroaching chaos? …What would [b]you[/b] deem necessary?[/i][/color]

[color=ab274f]“Amora, fill our hearts.”[/color] Toward [i]her[/i] he still felt discontent. [color=ab274f][i]What a grand fucking cosmic joke this must be to you. Laughing it up there, are you?[/i][/color]

Aquena, Duedon, and Tempestas represented fine values, and he had no quarrels with any of the three.

[color=ab274f]“Vena, lead our pursuits.”[/color] Oh, but she should know his aspirations. [color=ab274f][i]Is asking for a helping hand too much? A single stray bullet is all it would take.[/i][/color]

At the final word, there was a boom towards the back as the main church doors opened at the grand entrance of the king and the procession before him. Edin did always seek to outdo himself when it came to showy displays. 

Of course, [i]all of it[/i] served its purpose as an offering to The Altar of His Egoism. Nothing more, nothing less.

The priest, the audience, the torch carriers. The choir and orchestra, the flower girls, the golden knights. The offbeat ballet dancers with their paper-mâché Edin masks were the cherry on top of the sheer absurdity of the fervent king-worship his father encouraged. Regardless of his personal feelings, Wulfric clapped at the end of it. His claps were steadily measured and strong, resounding amongst others. He wasn’t markedly enthusiastic, but then, that was the usual state for him.[/color]