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Summary
Commoners were, by all means, considered filthy. Even the rich. No amount of begging, money, praying, would allow one to touch Tighnari.
It would be like touching a priceless relic from ancient ruins.
“You can't touch the Honoured One.” A priest yanked the lady back, standing between her and Tighnari. “Don’t forget yourself, lest we throw you back out into the snow.”
Tighnari shook off the shock of being touched. “It's alright.” He decided. He knew he would have to bathe again. “This poor soul could not contain her joy. We should not punish her for that.” He told the priest. But he felt weirdly violated.
The priest turned around, clearly not agreeing and wanting to protest. But no one could argue with the Honoured One.
Tighnari looked at the priest curiously. He had seen this one before. A diligent priest, with a striking look. White hair, red eyes. A tan, too. Was Tighnari supposed to know his name? Maybe Kaveh knew. He placed a gentle hand on the priest's arm.
“Thank you.”
The priest seemed a little lost for words from the touch and clear gratitude of the Honoured One. He then bowed deeply.
....
Where Cyno would join his beloved god in everything, even death.