Being so disconnected from {Kiche's} teachings have obviously had an effect on the young Lyall; and, without his sister Bishop to keep him in check, his mind was free to wander as it wished, to keep and discard all sorts of information and beliefs at will. His father Borden never prayed and Rook was never so sure why he constantly emphasized that he and Bishop take the ginger saint's words and preachings to heart. Perhaps it was something he would never understand, but he knew now to think better of it and leave and take what he liked of the concept of religion. So far, however, he would very much rather be free of it. He would let the chips fall where they may, so to speak, and never again regret wanting to live in the moment.
When the mention of Neha came up again, Rook should have remembered when Namid had told him about her siblings but the memory did not come. She had left him, just as Beren had, and their moments together were only typically accessible during the nights in which he felt alone, even while he laid curled up around Quil and their son in the dark. Neha seemed like the type of girl that Prosper and Theo might have befriended, Rook concluded. How or why, he couldn't place it, but it was a shame that they would never know the world as he and Veho knew it. Or, maybe, they had been too good for it to begin with or their plans had already come to completion. The Lyall had to veer his thoughts from the idea of Heaven. As much as he had skewed his God-fearing faith, he was determined to believe he, among other creatures, were not condemned to this hell outside of and beyond the Garden of Eden. Being with the ones he loved, with Tomen and Veho, reminded him that there was more to life than just trying to be good and right.
Veho's snort brought the younger wolf's gaze to his face, the half-moon's glow illuminating what it could and casting a shadow upon the rest of him, emphasizing the silver irises that made up his eyes. "Then perhaps He is not for you." Rook's jaw clenched and one side of his mouth twitched. "Perhaps," he whispered as if he might have been expecting his twin to come springing up from the underbrush to call him out on such a confession. He thought the silence between them might have stretched further into the sort of quiet that was comfortable and pleasant but Veho continued; and, the more he spoke, the more Rook came to realize just how right he was and, yet, how beautiful his instilled outlook was in contrast to his own. Why couldn't he be taken as he was? Why did he have to repent and beg and pray to be forgiven and not accepted simply for being? Had he known about his grandmother's penchant for her own spirits, her own beliefs in animism, he might have adopted it instead of whatever pseudo-Christianity that Kiche constantly went on about. Angels and Saints and the Savior and Pangur... Ridiculous. All of it.
A musing note hummed from Rook as his companion questioned the idea of everything having its own sense of beauty. Personally, he could attest to it. It was how he saw most things... most creatures... most other wolves. A shake of that tawny head had Rook's gaze fixated down on the ground where his paw was set mere inches away from Veho's; and, upon hearing what the other believed, about how he would join his Ancestors regardless of what paths he had chosen in life, he peered over at him to hold his gaze. He tried to smile but stopped when the word sins tumbled from his friend's lips.
"No!" he protested, searching the older man's face. "It's fine. Goodness only knows how long I've waited to hear something like that." For a second he seemed panicked, almost frantic. If he could have made quite the argument, he would have liked to believe that it was souls like Veho's that were pure and holy. Veho Macieo was a saint. His saving grace.
"That wasn't a sin," he murmured, his voice quieting again. His ears drew back and he momentarily trembled. As tempted as he was to lavish the medic with as many kisses as he could muster, the ones that he had been keeping at bay over the past several days, he remained in place. "I don't think you could commit them, even if you tried."