11-14-2016, 01:30 AM
Evening After Red Killed the Scream - Temple of the Hand
He killed one of the Twelve... our gods... they can die...
It was a thought that had resurfaced multiple times as Seirye haunted the vicinity of the room where Red rested. A thought rife with a multitude of emotions - confusion. Concern. Fear.
This same man that now lay unconscious was one of the men she had found comfort in - one of the men she had come to rely on like she would a brother. A role-model. Someone that seemed to view the world the same way she always sought to see it.
And he had murdered one of the Twelve. A reviled member tp be sure, but he had also caused her connection with her goddess to momentarily whither and the familiar warmth of her connection to the Hand's healing magics to snuff out completely for a brief but horrifying moment.
The magics that she had come to base her entire life around.
The magics of a doctrine she had thrown the entirety of her devotion to.
It had the potential to be eliminated entirely by someone she called her friend?
Yet two minds had screamed at her as one, alongside the agony of the Scream and the terror of those who had nearly been swept up in the midst of the chaos.
...was it truly him?
The young woman once again entered the the room that had been deemed Red's and bit down on her lower lip. No echoes flooded her mind now - none that she could associate with Red anyway - even though the remnants of those she had felt were still vivid.
The panic she had felt from Grandmother Kella and her sisters as they sought to prepare for the possibility of their connection failing again was still clawing at her mind.
Did they know?
"What happened...."
The words floated on a breath and she cast her gaze - at the moment magically-enhanced - in the direction of Red's unconscious body.
He looked the same. She had cast Clairvoyance just to confirm he did.
Yet her hand froze as she reached out to comfortingly squeeze his hand and fell away before contact was ever made.
She bit her lip harder.
Never had there been fear. Not of Red.
And the fact it was there terrified her.
The young woman had managed to keep her expression of calm neutrality throughout the majority of the uncomfortable situations she had found herself in. The prentori. The yellow pox. The Brass Heirophant.
Yet now she hadn't the heart to even try to keep any such facade in place. Her cloudy eyes clearly betrayed the menagerie of emotions that swirled behind them, and her lips held not even a whisper of the soft smile that had become so characteristic of her.
Her first impulse had been to seek out Grandmother Kella and lay what had happened - at least what she had experienced - bare for the high priestess to see, yet she could not bring herself to present even more reason for the older woman to be concerned. Not when she and many other priestesses were so frantically preparing for the worst.
A task that, whenever she could will herself away from the room, Seirye did her best to aid with.
Molle had, of course, likely returned to the Queen's side. Joel had probably retreated back to the sanctuary that was Lord Normoth's library. She had not heard from Lorina since the monk had insisted on remaining behind to guard the Scream's remains. Angelo was...
Seirye ceased her drifting thoughts and her eyes widened as the name abruptly triggered the warning that Lord Normoth had offered concerning The Dance and what it might mean to the servants of Caporith. What it might mean to Caporith himself.
She focused her enchanted gaze on Red's sleeping form once again. The voice she had heard in the chaos of the earlier hours had not been his. Not fully.
She had not felt one set of emotions. There had been two masquerading as one mind...
A trick? A misjudgment on her part brought on by the panic of the situation? Or...
The absence of the Scream would be mourned by few and celebrated by many. In truth, it had been a terrible goddess. One of fear and blood, and those that served her had been just as repulsive. The effect her death had had on the other gods had, of course, been terrifying, but mercifully temporary.
Seirye's own goddess was one of benevolence and healing. In truth, from what little she had come to know of Caporith's tenants, there was likely little risk that the Priesthood of the Hand would summon his wrath.
Yet the Scale - the god most of her family served loyally. A god of corrupted justice. A god that she had forsaken in favor of first the Whisper and then the Hand.
Angelo...
Her legs felt weak and she quickly sought out the stability of one of the chairs she and Angelo had occupied when they first brought Red to the temple. Her knuckles turned white from the force her grip was exerting on the chair, and she felt her heart pound in her chest.
Red was human - capable of emotion and empathy. His good nature had been something she had deeply admired and was one of the many things that had caused her to view him as almost a brother.
Those feelings fueled her concern. Kept her rooted in the room even as her fear tried to drive her out.
But if that humanity was fading... if it was being overshadowed by something else...
How could she possibly hope to protect those she loved from the wrath of someone that could murder a god?