Roen did not recognize the woman who looked back at her in the mirror.
She stood in front of it, her hands against the water basin, her fingers curled around its porcelain edges as she leaned her full weight on it. Â Her knuckles were white, and she forced away the trembling of her hands by tightening her grip.
Her own reflection haunted her. Her head was completely shaved clean, by her own hands, to hide the evidence of the violence that had been visited upon it. She had healed the wounds left by the knife that was so recklessly and zealously wielded by the Brass Blade who had attacked her from behind, although the faintest scar remained by her ear and on her scalp. She had struggled in her channeling of the aether when she healed herself, leaning against the railing of the Goblet, the one that she had almost been thrown off of. Roen had healed many wounds before, but upon others, and had always done so with practiced calm. But her own wounds… and the events that had brought them on…
Even now it shook her. Roen looked back down to her hands again, and saw the trembling there. Her eyes went from her fingers to the scant evidence of auburn locks that littered the basin.
"Cheat, run, or die."
Words from her first and only pugilist lesson. It echoed in her memory.
“Running is not an option, Sergeant.†Her own words. It still rang true to her.
“Who do you serve here, Deneith?â€
Suddenly the voice of her Brass Blades captain, her new superior now, came roaring back, pounding painfully in her ears.
“WHO. DO. YOU. SERVE. HERE?!â€
Roen hung her head, fighting the nausea that rose. She served Ul’Dah. This was the Oath she swore. But what Captain Anduron expected of her, that was not her Oath. It could not be. He wanted to take from the people to make the city-state greater. But what good was a majestic city and impenetrable towering walls if people in it were bled dry?
A slow intake of breath filled her lungs and steadied the fluttering within. She released her hold on the basin, standing straight and looking at herself back in the mirror. The woman that stared back at her had shed some of that darkness that was hanging over her like an apparition. She pulled her Brass Blades turban tightly around her head, hiding any sign of what lay underneath. She would return to duty this day, and she was determined that she would not let her convictions waver.
She would still serve Ul’Dah, its people. Not the walls. Not progress. Not the illustriousness of the city-state, but the people that breathed and walked within. That was the true heart of the Jewel in her eyes. Captain Anduron’s words be damned.
“I will not falter,†she repeated the words again of her Oath, one she swore in the middle of the Sagolii Desert, her hand joined on top of Natalie and Kage. She will not, she swore in her heart. Even as she fought the dread of what that would mean in days to come.
She stood in front of it, her hands against the water basin, her fingers curled around its porcelain edges as she leaned her full weight on it. Â Her knuckles were white, and she forced away the trembling of her hands by tightening her grip.
Her own reflection haunted her. Her head was completely shaved clean, by her own hands, to hide the evidence of the violence that had been visited upon it. She had healed the wounds left by the knife that was so recklessly and zealously wielded by the Brass Blade who had attacked her from behind, although the faintest scar remained by her ear and on her scalp. She had struggled in her channeling of the aether when she healed herself, leaning against the railing of the Goblet, the one that she had almost been thrown off of. Roen had healed many wounds before, but upon others, and had always done so with practiced calm. But her own wounds… and the events that had brought them on…
Even now it shook her. Roen looked back down to her hands again, and saw the trembling there. Her eyes went from her fingers to the scant evidence of auburn locks that littered the basin.
"Cheat, run, or die."
Words from her first and only pugilist lesson. It echoed in her memory.
“Running is not an option, Sergeant.†Her own words. It still rang true to her.
“Who do you serve here, Deneith?â€
Suddenly the voice of her Brass Blades captain, her new superior now, came roaring back, pounding painfully in her ears.
“WHO. DO. YOU. SERVE. HERE?!â€
Roen hung her head, fighting the nausea that rose. She served Ul’Dah. This was the Oath she swore. But what Captain Anduron expected of her, that was not her Oath. It could not be. He wanted to take from the people to make the city-state greater. But what good was a majestic city and impenetrable towering walls if people in it were bled dry?
A slow intake of breath filled her lungs and steadied the fluttering within. She released her hold on the basin, standing straight and looking at herself back in the mirror. The woman that stared back at her had shed some of that darkness that was hanging over her like an apparition. She pulled her Brass Blades turban tightly around her head, hiding any sign of what lay underneath. She would return to duty this day, and she was determined that she would not let her convictions waver.
She would still serve Ul’Dah, its people. Not the walls. Not progress. Not the illustriousness of the city-state, but the people that breathed and walked within. That was the true heart of the Jewel in her eyes. Captain Anduron’s words be damned.
“I will not falter,†she repeated the words again of her Oath, one she swore in the middle of the Sagolii Desert, her hand joined on top of Natalie and Kage. She will not, she swore in her heart. Even as she fought the dread of what that would mean in days to come.
