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It seemed an age since the Lady Van Hellstrom had stirred from the inner confines of the castle. Her seclusion had been as absolute as it had been sudden. Any needs she may have had, a servant had seen to with not a word to the rest of the valley about the Lady's well-being, or activities. There was nothing the servant could have told anyway- River kept as much to herself within the castle as she did without.
It was the news that finally drew her forth. A victory she'd helped orchestrate, a fight she'd sworn to be there for, and in the end hid from- too afraid of what she might do. The news.... they'd done it. They'd actually done what they set out to do. But the hollowness of the victory sat like a weight in the pit of her gut, gnawing angrily at her insides, causing her face to twist in grieving pain. Grief. It seemed an unending torment, a constant weight about her shoulders. There was little she could possibly do to alleviate it- the choices, after all, had been entirely hers. The only recourse she felt she had was to remove herself from the rest of the valley, from the Family and friends she cared most about, and bear the weight of her choices on her own lest they cause harm. If only choices could be unmade.... but that is not the nature of choices. Once they are made, they are made.
And so it was a choice that brought her forth, garbed in her typical dark clothing, a hood pulled up to conceal the pallid, drawn flesh of her features. She had helped build the foundations of that day, she had spoken passionately about duty, about oaths, about doing the right thing regardless of the costs. She had never realized the cost would have been so very high. In the aftermath, her choice was a tiny thing... but this time, it was the the right thing. Feet guided her silently toward the Gate as the half-elf took pains to remain unseen, as she desired no company, no surprised greetings, no forced smiles or lies about how she's been.
The great doors to the Temple of the Triad loomed before her, the silent stillness of the place echoing her own empty feeling. Moisture pricked large, silvery grey eyes as she pushed the massive oaken door and entered into the dimly lit interior. An acolyte approached her, a stony expression of loss and confusion etched upon his features.
Words. She was expected, in this moment, to say them. Something. Anything. Her mouth opened, and for a moment it seemed only silence would emerge. At the sound of a broken voice so rarely used, the welling tears spilled over, and raced down her cheeks. The Lady Van Hellstrom sank to her knees, and lowered her head.
"I seek the Judicator, the Penitent, or the Martyr. I... I seek forgiveness."
It was the news that finally drew her forth. A victory she'd helped orchestrate, a fight she'd sworn to be there for, and in the end hid from- too afraid of what she might do. The news.... they'd done it. They'd actually done what they set out to do. But the hollowness of the victory sat like a weight in the pit of her gut, gnawing angrily at her insides, causing her face to twist in grieving pain. Grief. It seemed an unending torment, a constant weight about her shoulders. There was little she could possibly do to alleviate it- the choices, after all, had been entirely hers. The only recourse she felt she had was to remove herself from the rest of the valley, from the Family and friends she cared most about, and bear the weight of her choices on her own lest they cause harm. If only choices could be unmade.... but that is not the nature of choices. Once they are made, they are made.
And so it was a choice that brought her forth, garbed in her typical dark clothing, a hood pulled up to conceal the pallid, drawn flesh of her features. She had helped build the foundations of that day, she had spoken passionately about duty, about oaths, about doing the right thing regardless of the costs. She had never realized the cost would have been so very high. In the aftermath, her choice was a tiny thing... but this time, it was the the right thing. Feet guided her silently toward the Gate as the half-elf took pains to remain unseen, as she desired no company, no surprised greetings, no forced smiles or lies about how she's been.
The great doors to the Temple of the Triad loomed before her, the silent stillness of the place echoing her own empty feeling. Moisture pricked large, silvery grey eyes as she pushed the massive oaken door and entered into the dimly lit interior. An acolyte approached her, a stony expression of loss and confusion etched upon his features.
Words. She was expected, in this moment, to say them. Something. Anything. Her mouth opened, and for a moment it seemed only silence would emerge. At the sound of a broken voice so rarely used, the welling tears spilled over, and raced down her cheeks. The Lady Van Hellstrom sank to her knees, and lowered her head.
"I seek the Judicator, the Penitent, or the Martyr. I... I seek forgiveness."
