"Have you finished your prayers? They're preparing the halls for a Bonding ceremony."Â
This was not an entirely new sight, but ever since the restoration of the Sanctum and its return to celebrating Eternal Bond ceremonies, their time within the actual sanctum always fell short. Sylvie had never been "reduced" to living in the Shroud - It was her home, and all she had ever known, much like her father, and her grandfather and her great grandfather before her. All had been branded criminals, poachers or worse for simply not being Gridanian.
Yet the Noirets had endured, partially through thick familial ties, but mostly due to the strict application of their own tenets of virtue which could cause even the most zealous of Wood Wailers to hesitate in seriously tracking them down. Couple with the fact that they mostly lived in the East and South Shroud, areas which are less patrolled due to the Sylphs' lesser danger in comparison to the Ixal, and where bigger fish to fry tread - the Coeurlclaw poachers, who are a far bigger danger than what is merely known, these days, as a bunch of crazies throughout the generations.
"Nay, father - Allow me one last prayer to Azeyma before we set off. I fear without her guidance, it will not be her tears I shed, but mine." said the kneeling daughter. Hands clasped, she closed her eyes.
"If you are to bear the Tears, your eyes should never close. How can you seek the truth if you avert your eyes?" her father responded.
Sylvie audibly gulped, and slowly opened her eyes, maintaining her position. Each word was carefully mouthed. Her breathing was regular, with an errant twitch within its rhythm. She thought of the injustice her family suffered, and immediately felt her knuckles turn paler. Her father ignored the young girl's rage - It reminded him of his own youth, when his mother sought to console him as offered a prayer to Althyk, that the time of Gelmorra was returned to him. He gently caressed his mythril hatchet - a greatly diminished tool compared to the deity's greatax, but one that allowed him precise collection and clearing of runaway branches that blocked the hidden paths they often took through the Shroud. Paths forgotten to most, yet that were fresh in the Noirets' mind.
It fit his daughter's resolve and ideals that she chose permanent tattoos on her face instead of a golden fan, or anything material. It was the first moment where he felt that he had raised her right. Everything had prepared to the moment where she would face the Twelve, and find her path in life. None of the Noirets had chosen Azeyma in quite some time - Menphina, Oschon were common choices, as well as Althyk due to the duty of memory.Â
She stood up, he nodded, they left.
Outside, a duskwight woman radiating elegance in pauper clothes waited diligently, discussing with one of the many attendants about life at the Sanctum, while exchanging good spots for flowers. Seeing her husband and her daughter exit the sanctum, she gently excused herself, and went to meet with her family.
"Are we ready to leave?"
"Yes, I believe we are. Though I fear our daughter has something else on her mind..." Sylvie nodded. A heavy breath took over her body.
"Mother, father. It is time I forge my path - I bear the Tears of Azeyma, I have received every boon you have granted me. How to live with the land from you, mother, and how to live a virtuous life from you, father. While I prayed that the Tears are all I would shed, my own are still falling. I... I..." her body remained composed - her tears fell, and yet she did not hold them back. Her sadness was genuine, and a commitment to the truth also meant letting her emotions get the better of her in such moments.
Words were no longer welcome - mother and father joined to embrace their daughter, who sought only to stand bravely in front of her parents. After hearing an attendant warning them that the ceremony's guests had been sighted on their way, all let go.
"Sylvie, always remember - Our nobility never came from a title, or a deed. It has always been ours from our staunch adherence to the Noiret creed of virtue above all. Remember that, and I know you will do well in all things. You will always have a family, and thanks to the paths you followed us on, you will always know where to find us."
"Sylvie, always remember to honor anything you take from nature, even outside of the Shroud. A noble's responsibilities do not stop outside of their domain, and neither does our responsibility to all living things. Now, come with us to the cache, that we may at least outfit you with proper armor and regalia."
Sylvie blushed - Even without a proper house, she once again felt like the most pampered girl of the Black Shroud.
And she loved her parents for it.
This was not an entirely new sight, but ever since the restoration of the Sanctum and its return to celebrating Eternal Bond ceremonies, their time within the actual sanctum always fell short. Sylvie had never been "reduced" to living in the Shroud - It was her home, and all she had ever known, much like her father, and her grandfather and her great grandfather before her. All had been branded criminals, poachers or worse for simply not being Gridanian.
Yet the Noirets had endured, partially through thick familial ties, but mostly due to the strict application of their own tenets of virtue which could cause even the most zealous of Wood Wailers to hesitate in seriously tracking them down. Couple with the fact that they mostly lived in the East and South Shroud, areas which are less patrolled due to the Sylphs' lesser danger in comparison to the Ixal, and where bigger fish to fry tread - the Coeurlclaw poachers, who are a far bigger danger than what is merely known, these days, as a bunch of crazies throughout the generations.
"Nay, father - Allow me one last prayer to Azeyma before we set off. I fear without her guidance, it will not be her tears I shed, but mine." said the kneeling daughter. Hands clasped, she closed her eyes.
"If you are to bear the Tears, your eyes should never close. How can you seek the truth if you avert your eyes?" her father responded.
Sylvie audibly gulped, and slowly opened her eyes, maintaining her position. Each word was carefully mouthed. Her breathing was regular, with an errant twitch within its rhythm. She thought of the injustice her family suffered, and immediately felt her knuckles turn paler. Her father ignored the young girl's rage - It reminded him of his own youth, when his mother sought to console him as offered a prayer to Althyk, that the time of Gelmorra was returned to him. He gently caressed his mythril hatchet - a greatly diminished tool compared to the deity's greatax, but one that allowed him precise collection and clearing of runaway branches that blocked the hidden paths they often took through the Shroud. Paths forgotten to most, yet that were fresh in the Noirets' mind.
It fit his daughter's resolve and ideals that she chose permanent tattoos on her face instead of a golden fan, or anything material. It was the first moment where he felt that he had raised her right. Everything had prepared to the moment where she would face the Twelve, and find her path in life. None of the Noirets had chosen Azeyma in quite some time - Menphina, Oschon were common choices, as well as Althyk due to the duty of memory.Â
She stood up, he nodded, they left.
Outside, a duskwight woman radiating elegance in pauper clothes waited diligently, discussing with one of the many attendants about life at the Sanctum, while exchanging good spots for flowers. Seeing her husband and her daughter exit the sanctum, she gently excused herself, and went to meet with her family.
"Are we ready to leave?"
"Yes, I believe we are. Though I fear our daughter has something else on her mind..." Sylvie nodded. A heavy breath took over her body.
"Mother, father. It is time I forge my path - I bear the Tears of Azeyma, I have received every boon you have granted me. How to live with the land from you, mother, and how to live a virtuous life from you, father. While I prayed that the Tears are all I would shed, my own are still falling. I... I..." her body remained composed - her tears fell, and yet she did not hold them back. Her sadness was genuine, and a commitment to the truth also meant letting her emotions get the better of her in such moments.
Words were no longer welcome - mother and father joined to embrace their daughter, who sought only to stand bravely in front of her parents. After hearing an attendant warning them that the ceremony's guests had been sighted on their way, all let go.
"Sylvie, always remember - Our nobility never came from a title, or a deed. It has always been ours from our staunch adherence to the Noiret creed of virtue above all. Remember that, and I know you will do well in all things. You will always have a family, and thanks to the paths you followed us on, you will always know where to find us."
"Sylvie, always remember to honor anything you take from nature, even outside of the Shroud. A noble's responsibilities do not stop outside of their domain, and neither does our responsibility to all living things. Now, come with us to the cache, that we may at least outfit you with proper armor and regalia."
Sylvie blushed - Even without a proper house, she once again felt like the most pampered girl of the Black Shroud.
And she loved her parents for it.
