Remember those walls I built? Well, they are tumbling down...

I wonder, should I take the darker more foreboding tunnel with ominous shapes, or the brighter lit tunnel that doesn't seem so sinister? Beranhond stopped with a start. Oh no, I am still talking to myself aren't I?
"What do you think?" He whispers to his cat.
"I am wondering what we are doing down here in the first place." Tigrisclawu whispers back. "Did you decide that you couldn't resist going into a hole in the ground? Were you thinking 'oh, look! A hole in the ground, I need to go down there! Oh, I am a cleric of Narath, I don't need any backup or muscle or magic. If I get into any problems I will just stab it!"
"Well, kinda." But, now that he thought about it more he wasn't sure what he was doing in this hole in the first place. "Things need exploring and questions need answering."
"Don't forget that souls need saving."
"I am not in the business of saving souls, at least not until I am sure when or how a soul would need saving, that is why Narath is having me explore a bit before I announce her presence."
"You mean until you become a lame-o prophet."
"Well, kinda. When you say it like that it makes me sound kinda lame"
"Ethelred Beranhond, first prophet of the Great Goddess Narath!" Tigrisclawu sits back on his feet, licks paw and stops. "Oh yeah, it does makes you sound much cooler than you are. You should introduce yourself that way."
"Why yes, yes it does, and no I am not going to introduce myself. When I mention her most people laugh or accuse me of heresy. That is besides the point - she did come to me to be her first prophet, so I am still cool."
"Yes, so why aren't you professing her word?"
"Because, I am supposed to be... why are we talking about this now, we argued about this the whole way across the sea of falling stars!"
"You brought it up."
"No... you did, you mentioned the souls needing saving."
"Well, they do need saving!"
Off in the distance Beranhond thought he heard voices. Remembering where he was he stopped talking and slipped back into the shadows and tried to be secretive. Of course, being a cleric, he isn't really trained in sneakiness. He is trained in loudly announcing his presence and smiting the unbelievers. Or, at least in asking them questions about their faith and how they derive meaning from life. More on that later.
Looking around he was concerned that the whole area seemed to be brighter. Looking down he noticed a bright light was starting to shine off of Tigrisclawu's collar. Oh great...
"Tigrisclawu... I told you to turn off your light orb."
"I didn't turn it on." He pushed his paw up, but it didn't shut off. The light grew larger and started to take form. In a moment Narath, in all her glory, appeared from the light and stood before Beranhond. Her long hair shimmered in a multitude of hues, seemingly both black, brown, auburn, and red all at once. Her skin radiated and settled on a glowing shade. A knee length gown of an unearthly silvers showed brightly and on her feet were brown, pointed, leather boots (yes, Narath wears cowboy boots). Slung across her back was an immense shield and at her waist was a large horn. On her head she wore a four cornered mortarboard with a golden tassel. Beranhond often thought that for any other person such an outfit would look ridiculous. But for Narath it was perfect.
"Eth, my prophet... do not be afraid in this dark place." She said in the soothing tones that she always used to pacify Beranhond. She used nicknames with him and unlike anyone else, Beranhond gave no complaint at the usage.
"Thank you my Goddess. Your presence is a comfort in the dark places of the earth." Beranhond whispered. He was trying to sound respectful, though his voice retained the awe he always felt when greeted with her presence. Mustering all his confidence he proceeded, "you know that seeing your face lifts my heart more than I could explain, and that no word I could ever use would be worthy of your presence... but, now is not the best time."
At this statement she looked around, causing the oddly shaped shield to give a metal jingle and the tassel on her mortarboard lightly hitting Beranhond in the face as she spun. Looking back she noticed his efforts to be secretive, and the setting in which the conversation had been taking place. She gave him a wink as sheo carefully lifted her boots out of the urine/salt water mix.  
"Indeed it is not, forgive me. I am still getting used to these divine powers and when/how to pay attention to my prophet." She whispered as she put her hands on her hips with a look toward Beranhond that can only be described, and not very well at that, as an odd mixture of the smitten adoration of a first love and the omnipotent power of a world spanning Goddess.
Beranhond smiled at her, before she leaned forward and somewhat awkwardly kissed Beranhond's forehead. Her hands moved as part of the same motion in order to touch his unshaven cheeks and to adjust the hair out of his face. Beranhond's sword and shield and shield hit the ground and his hands, on their own accord, moved briefly upward. They stopped after only an inch of travel when she moved down so that their eyes, and lips, were level.
Taking a deep breath she started speaking words that were half planned from the day of her creation and half the ramblings of a Goddess who suddenly lacks a vocabulary. "My days are bright because of you Eth... you are my light as much as I am yours and it it might not make any sense to you, but I have been trying to say this forever and everytime I tried before, it just came across as all unnatural and now I am rambling and you probably think I am crazy... I just wanted to say that I... 
She paused for a moment, took a deep breath and with a tone of forced calmness said, "care very deeply for you and that I fear this quest to find the message that you will share with the world isn't fully fair on my part." She looked down to his hands and moved her fingers on his face. "The stories always have us bringing a message of great truth, but I think you know now that the message we send to the world is only as strong as the faith of our believers. Fortunately for me, I know you will find the right message to heal this world in its current times of trouble and the troubles that will soon follow." Her lips moved and for a moment it seemed that she was going to kiss Beranhond's lips. Breathlessly and nearly silently, her lips inches from his she said words meant only for him. "Go with my love Ethelred Beranhond first prophet and saviour, know it is always there. I know in my mind and heart that you will be visiting places I cannot go and many times I will be unable to manifest such as this, but I will try to come when you call and I will be within you as long as you carry my love and my light with me." The tension filling the space between them was palpable. His hands had stopped moving, but his heartbeat sped up. The warmth of her hands sent a trickle of sweat down his back. They stood, eyes locked, for what seemed an infinite amount of time. Which, considering her divine powers, it could have been. Finally, she stepped back, pulled her hands away from his face and said somewhat anticlimactically, "Though, in a few words of advice... I wouldn't go much further in here. Second, you should get a shave... and a helmet my beloved... prophet."

Beranhond realized that his hands had reached out to her as she pulled away. When he finally stopped he continued to stand awkwardly. Trying to look nonchalant, he slowly lowered his hands to the ground and picked up his sword and shield that had fallen during the visit of Narath. His eyes drifted downward for a moment before he looked up and adjusted his shield to cover below his belt. Tigrisclawu gave him a quizzical look.
"Well, that is something a cat doesn't see everyday."
"What do you mean." Beranhond clearly had returned to his usual state of self-denial, or denseness. Tigrisclawu just shook his head.
"When your books of prophecy or the messages of Narath are written..."
"Yes?"
"Don't include any account of what just happened."
Beranhond simply nods.
"And Beranhond?"
"Yes?"
"When you are ready, your shield should probably be up a little higher..."
Well, I don't know what to think of all that. But his mind was still thinking of her face, her touch, and her oddly eccentric fashion. Beranhond was glazing over when he almost failed to notice...
Perception:
Roll(1d20)+4:
5,+4
Total:9