monsterbind | (no subject)

Estelle hasn't been treated unkindly, but to say that she's had a warm welcome would be misrepresenting the situation. The villages were kind enough, both pleased and excited to have their princess and newest priestess passing through, but their kindness was distant and reverent. They were her subjects, not her friends. Ivar, a silver-haired man who identified himself as Milla's handmaid, had been the exact opposite - way too personal and far from pleasant. He'd huffed at Estelle incessantly about how she needed to make sure she behaved properly and paid Milla the respect she deserved and paid attention and didn't fuss and one more thing--before a pair of female attendants had whisked her away from Ivar's lecturing and into Milla's shrine.

There she'd been undressed, bathed, and reclothed in nothing more than a tunic, again with treatment that was kind and gentle but impersonal and aloof. After that she was lead what one of the attendants called the shrine center, a windowless dome shaped room a good fifteen feet across. The room was lit with only a handful of torches, giving it a warm and cozy quality, and walls were draped with bright cloths in an array of colors. Set directly opposite the door was Estelle was ushered through was a simple wooden throne, flanked on either side by a torch and a wooden chest.

And on the throne, of course, sits Milla. She's dressed in a rather revealing outfit that's hardly suited to a god, but she sits cross-legged and straight-backed and radiating dignity. Her expression, too, is calm and remote as Estelle enters - an expression that rapidly softens into one of curiosity once the door swings closed behind Estelle.

"You must be the new priestess." Milla folds her arms and tilts her head slightly. "Estellise, correct?"

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It's all a little much for her.

She'd known that she was approaching the age at which she'd be sent to become a priestess in lieu of being married off. She'd had time to research, to read about it and the goddess she was being sent to serve, to make her farewells and prepare her belongings. So she'd been as prepared as any one girl could reasonably have expected to be.

She hadn't been prepared enough, evidently. For being sheparded through the villages, for the fussiness of her minder Ivar, for the sheer... occasion of it all. And now she's here, dressed in a simple tunic (it's to show her piety and humility, she recalls from the book), standing alone in a room in front of a...

...young woman sitting on a throne. She doesn't look like a god. Then again, Estelle isn't sure what she expected a god to look like. How do you even say hello to your god, anyway?

She drops into a deep curtsy, not looking up. "Y-yes, your holiness," she says, with only a hint of stammering. "Though my friends call me Estelle."

"It's... it's an honor to finally meet you."

"Estelle..." Milla trails off slowly as she speaks, letting the name rest on her tongue. Several seconds later, her expression blossoms into a bright, warm smile. Milla rises from her seat a moment later, revealing that for however graceful and imposing she can make herself seem she's not actually that much taller than Estelle - maybe an inch at most, though her heeled boots add on to that.

"That's a lovely name. I hope you don't mind a new acquaintance using it." They won't be mere acquaintances for much longer, after all, and just to drive that home she chuckles quietly. "I see Ivar's already gotten to you. You can just call me Milla for the time being." Whether or not Estelle will take to that right away remains to be seen but Milla already knows there will plenty of formality later.

"I'm sure you're already aware of what some of your duties will be, yes?"

She shakes her head, straightening up as Milla approaches her (Ivar had insisted Estelle avert her eyes at all times, but she really doesn't seem the type for that, does she?) and offering a slightly nervous smile. "No, your holiness, it doesn't bother me if you call me that. I mean, Milla. Miss Milla? Lady Milla." The third struck a nice balance, she thinks, though her nervousness betrays her.

The question, though, makes her cheeks flush. This time, she averts her eyes out of embarrassment, not respect. "Y... yes," she begins, her face a dark red. "I did read that, but I... is it really true? I would have thought my father would have said something to me..."

'Lady Milla' seems to do the trick, seeing as it gets a faint and involuntary involuntary smile from her. That's the form of address she hears the most often and the familiarity is comforting in its own way. Estelle's response to her question is a little worrisome, though, and it causes Milla's smile to fade.

"It is true, though any books you've read probably aren't very accurate." Even Milla can admit that, despite her ongoing love affair with the written word. As far as she knows, the only accounts of the priestess' duties have come from their visitors, never one of the women themselves. "To start, you'll never be pressured or required to see a worshiper you're not interested in. On the other hand..." Milla crosses her arms. "Much more may be asked of you than you'd expect, and you'll need extensive training to prepare for it."

Yes, Estelle's definitely blushing now, the red tinging her face all the way through to her ears. She folds her fingers together, hands clasped in front of her lap, still not looking up at this woman who she's told is her god. "I... I understand," she says after a moment. "Um, what kind of training? I've never-- er, that sort of thing isn't something that my father would have allowed at home, so I'm still--"

Please pick up on her insinuation, Milla. It's embarrassing.

"Inexperienced?" Milla is smiling again, at least. She reaches out to gently rest her fingers against the underside of Estelle's chin, tipping her head up enough to make eye-contact with her. "That's nothing to worry about. We can take as long as you need to get ready." Milla gives that a moment to sink in before she drops her hand again.

"But first I need to know what you do know. Even if you're inexperienced I'm sure you've learned at least a little." Milla knows that not many people read even half as much as she does, but she's certain Estelle must have at least a little knowledge.

It takes all of Estelle's willpower to not break that eye connection, because as much as Milla doesn't seem very... godlike, there's something in that gaze of hers that immediately makes Estelle feel very small. She hasn't yet stopped blushing, though the question gives her the opportunity to sink back into her knowledge, into the books that she loves to read.

"Well, I know all of the basics," she says after a moment. "What all of the, um, parts are for. I know how you're supposed to do things, and some of the techniques, but I've just never," she winces, "done any of it?"