A Higher Calling (Open RP)

[Melodia]

The locks, now dyed stark black, fell to the floor at Melodia's feet, silent tremors as each thick clump hit the floor, bringing hell to the unseen organisms in her room. She was in her own hell as she clipped her hair short, eyes blank and the vacant stare at the bed nearly enveloping her soul with each beat of her heart. The empty bed.

 

Her wife had left without a word, and she had no idea where she'd gone. The suns had gone by and life was empty. Between the death of the brave lalafell in the cave, and now the loss of her wife, Melodia was a blank slate. She had been, at least.

 

Now the hair was cut. A short cropped look to better match her mood, her mindset. Standing nude, with that blank stare, a far cry from what felt like a lifetime ago when she would woo lovers to the same bed. No wonder she was alone. The tears streamed down her cheeks as the scissors fell to the ground.

 

Alone. Again.

 

Her mind climbed back and reflected to the pilgrimage her and her wife had taken before the bonding ceremony...to the various sites of the Twelve. Her mouth dropped...enough to let a soft gasp come forth. The wash of realization hit her finally, and she was grateful for it, despite the timing.

 

She had failed them. The Twelve.

 

Her mind was suddenly awash in this. The thoughts of Tomas shot dead on the beach years ago. Taurin being hung from the mast. Her own parents and village burned. The unknown man in the cave. Her wife. Her eyes closed as the tears streamed down her cheeks and her voice was a husky whisper, "I'm a sinner."

 

Time to go home mommy. The little girl's voice was a plain and clear as it was that day in the cave. It wasn't about going back to Limsa, or wearing a uniform. It had nothing to do with counseling or courtesan work.

 

She owed a debt, and the Twelve were telling her so. For each blessing she'd ever received, she'd misbehaved, spat in their face with her own whims. And those who giveth, also taketh away.

 

She lowered her head and nodded, as she rested on her knees.

 

She made a promise to make her life mean something. And she reaffirmed that promise silently, to the Twelve, and decided it was time to start paying back that debt.

 

And she would, in Their names.

[Melodia]

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."

[Miryn]

Miryn leaned her head into her hand, letting the sounds of the Quicksand wash over her. She could see the bottom of her mug and didn't even feel a pleasant buzz anymore, but had not the coin to correct the issue. Jobs had been scarce of late and her purse was worryingly light against her hip. One drink a night was already a luxury she could ill afford. Ah, but at least she could count on the Twelve for small favors; at the Quicksand, even the cheapest porridge tasted like the finest meal.

 

But the evening was wearing on and Miryn had no desire to turn in for the night. Feeling fresh air would do her good, she secured her sword and made for the doors.

 

As the evening breeze hit her, so too did a stirring voice from down the steps. Curioty piqued, Miryn joined the small crowd that had gathered by the fountain and pushed her way to the front. In doing so, she accidentally made eye contact with the woman and found herself at the business end of an index finger.

 

Devotion or sin.

 

Miryn stiffened, her eye widening a perceptible fraction of an inch. Perhaps it was the glint of armor and flowing cloth, or the voice ringing with familiar fervor, but she was strongly reminded of the Inquisitors, the weight of their judgement hovering over her house, all she had labored for threatening to collapse into ruin. Emmalie's tearful plea to help her escape...

 

Instinct brought her hand to her sword and she'd gripped the hilt before realizing it. Miryn hastily forced herself to relax and corrected her expression into what she hoped was one of disdain.

 

"My devotion and sins are for the Twelve to know, not you." She frowned. "Who are you to question passersby at random, anyway?"

[Melodia]

For all of her display, old habits and instincts died hard. She'd spotted the hand on the hilt of the sword and she wondered whether this woman would cleave her in two. When the hand left the weapon she inwardly let out a sigh of relief at not being killed on her first foray into spreading the word. When she saw the look on her face and heard the question, she tilted her head a bit and smiled, pushing her glasses up as they had slipped a bit on her nose.

 

"I am but a humble servant of the Twelve. For too long did I wallow in my own life of inequity and sin and only through loss and revelation have the Twelve allowed me the chance to help others who may be lost to find them." She eyed the blade again and chuckled. "You don't need the blade, friend. As you see I'm unarmed. I may speak loudly but have no intention of harm. Just an engaging conversation and the hope that someone will find their way to or back to the Twelve as a result."

 

She gave a slight bow and kept her eyes fixed on the stranger.

[Miryn]

Her speech was about as flowery as certain members of the clergy back home, too, but at the very least she seemed genuine in her words. So, this woman was reaching out to strangers on Emerald Avenue, risking public ridicule (and the occasional sword) in hopes of... illuminating their lives with the Twelve's radiance? For all the time Miryn had spent in Ul'dah and the wide range of people she'd met, she couldn't count many noble or selfless souls among them. It was just so strange to bump into one on the street.

 

Miryn's frown softened in favor of a furrowed brow instead. "I suppose your intentions are as good as any, if not the approach."

 

She glanced at the crowd gathered around the fountain, finding a few expectant stares. Yes, the woman had asked her a question - a very direct question that, in an unguarded moment, had stabbed straight to Miryn's core. Perhaps someone less grim would've happily shared their praises or shortcomings in regards to the Twelve, but Miryn was in no such mood. And certainly not with an audience watching.

 

She shrugged, trying to seem nonchalant. "I say my prayers, and pay my tithes. You know us sellswords; with danger breathing down our necks every day, it doesn't hurt to have the favor of a powerful friend in your pocket. Sometimes the Twelve listen, and sometimes they don't. Can't blame them, that's just the way it is."

[Melodia]

Melodia watched as the woman spoke and gave a knowing nod.

 

"Aye you speak true, though for sake of argument....let's say that you didn't pay your tithing, didn't pray...would the Twelve view you in the same light as someone who prayed constantly or someone who's tithing was nearly their entire sum of goods? And if your answer be in the negative, then I ask you in light of the world affairs, aren't we overdue to offer the gods more?" She smiled and shrugged. "Of course I'm simply offering a hypothetical."

 

She let her smile slip, seemingly oblivious to those around and her voice dropped to a normal tone though she looked concerned as she spoke. "What if....what if a tithe and prayer aren't enough...?"

[Star Lin]

'Thomas is going to realize that is a new staff that you have,' Kit said in his head.  John nods, the staff was it was made was to be deliver to his inn room.  'You should tell him before he sees.'

 

"I am...when I have class with him."  He removes an apple from his pack, slicing it in half.  He stop to give Kit one while he eat the other.  "Sorry it's not one of Howl's apples.  I'm still working on the Aether part of it."

 

'Doing better?'

 

"Yes, I am."  He had slip out of the medbay without anyone the wiser.  "We'll try again later."  He smile as Kit rub her head against his hand.  He blink at the voices that he could hear, turning to the two unknown females.  One was in armor and robs, short red hair, and speaking about the Twelve.  The other was Elezen, brown of hair, and Sword at her side.  "Wonder why they are speaking about the Twelve?"

 

'Let's find out.'  Kit ran up to the pair, looking up at the pair.

 

"Kit," he hiss, watching in horror at the rudeness of his familiar, his ears folding low on his head.  "Don't bother the Madams."

[Viola]

She had heard it all. How it was always 'twelve this', or 'twelve that'. She wasn't interested in them and for the most part, she believed they had no interest in her. The Fury would probably be angry with her, but she didn't mind. So long as nothing bad happened to her father, she didn't care.

 

However, she didn't exactly understand how she somehow ended up in Ul'Dah, but with her frequent wanderings while lost in thought, it was to be expected. She took a deep breath, listening to the two women talk as she reached for her cup of tea.

[Miryn]

If a tithe and a prayer weren't enough for the Twelve, then that was very unfortunate, because it was all Miryn could afford to give. Her hands were tied as it was. Money for food and shelter, time and attention for matters of basic survival. It already took all she had on a daily basis just to keep afloat. Where was the energy to do more supposed to come from?

 

A surge of frustration washed over her, though she wasn't sure why. The woman was just asking, and not even in an accusatory tone. In fact, a few years ago – in another lifetime – Miryn would've agreed. Faith and service towards a cause greater than oneself; it was the highest honor.

 

"As I said, sometimes what you want isn't what you get. I doubt even the gods fare much differently than mortals." Miryn frowned again. "Though, if the gods were disappointed so much that they turned away from us more than they already have, I suppose we'd have quite the problem on our hands.

 

"So, what then?" Miryn nodded at the woman. "Do you have answers, or are you just trying to make my night more bleak than it already is?"

 

The small crowd around them was becoming less small and Miryn regretted not staying indoors for another ale.