The armor was heavier than she was used to. The plated gauntlets, the thigh high plated boots weighing her more than she was used to. But such was the penance for her own sins. A proper servant of the Twelve didn't wear what she used to wear. To do such a thing would be to spit in the eyes of the gods after they'd given her purpose.
The debt must be repaid, Melodia thought. As she looked in the mirror and slipped on her oval glasses, she nodded, a smile of appreciation on her lips. She whispered, "Thank you." The words were meant for the Twelve and with the long draping cloth in both front and back, she looked every bit the warrior priestess her mind had the sudden desire to be. She wore no helmet because had no desire to hide her tears should they fall.
At the door to the door to the inn room she whispered, "By your will" and stepped out into the bustling Quicksand. The evening had brought a full house and while she could have stopped right there and begun, she respected Momodi enough to move outside to the fountain near the main entrance. Her footsteps were with purpose and the sound of her boots against the stone reinforced her own drive to repent....to atone for her own failures.
The sound of the fountain waters splashing behind her, the Gate of Nald standing before her, the warm evening air touched by a breeze causing her newly short cropped hair to only barely move at the ends, and she took a deep breath. Her words came then, loud, as spoke.
"Awaken, friends! Slumber no longer! In this time of angst and troubles and even rebirth, I implore you to wake up and find your moment!" She looked about, eyes wide with passion and her voice became less shaky as she continued. "The Twelve have wanted us to find our own happiness, our own pursuits, be it in their glory and in their name. Pray! Have you done this? I have not....I am sinner and still unworthy in their eyes, though I atone through my own public discourse! I fornicated with many, yet not once thanked Menphina! Have you praised the Twelve in their mercy? Have you made a pilgrimage to the stones to praise them? To thank them?" Melodia was caught up with a fervor at this point and pointed to a stranger passing by.
"Pray, stranger! Share your tale of devotion or sin."
The debt must be repaid, Melodia thought. As she looked in the mirror and slipped on her oval glasses, she nodded, a smile of appreciation on her lips. She whispered, "Thank you." The words were meant for the Twelve and with the long draping cloth in both front and back, she looked every bit the warrior priestess her mind had the sudden desire to be. She wore no helmet because had no desire to hide her tears should they fall.
At the door to the door to the inn room she whispered, "By your will" and stepped out into the bustling Quicksand. The evening had brought a full house and while she could have stopped right there and begun, she respected Momodi enough to move outside to the fountain near the main entrance. Her footsteps were with purpose and the sound of her boots against the stone reinforced her own drive to repent....to atone for her own failures.
The sound of the fountain waters splashing behind her, the Gate of Nald standing before her, the warm evening air touched by a breeze causing her newly short cropped hair to only barely move at the ends, and she took a deep breath. Her words came then, loud, as spoke.
"Awaken, friends! Slumber no longer! In this time of angst and troubles and even rebirth, I implore you to wake up and find your moment!" She looked about, eyes wide with passion and her voice became less shaky as she continued. "The Twelve have wanted us to find our own happiness, our own pursuits, be it in their glory and in their name. Pray! Have you done this? I have not....I am sinner and still unworthy in their eyes, though I atone through my own public discourse! I fornicated with many, yet not once thanked Menphina! Have you praised the Twelve in their mercy? Have you made a pilgrimage to the stones to praise them? To thank them?" Melodia was caught up with a fervor at this point and pointed to a stranger passing by.
"Pray, stranger! Share your tale of devotion or sin."
