The Pursuit of Vindication

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
[138] Nymaya: The Pursuit of Vindication
Sat May  4 15:04:23 2013
To: Ashtiel Ayzrael Reklah ( Cayenna RP Necrucifer ) All
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The cold flame of anger roiled through her. 

It was not the sort of anger you paced through, counted through or breathed through.  It was the sort of anger that held you in thrall and in silence she stood, gazing up at the equally cold statue of Necrucifer before her.  Its eyes blazed balefully down at her, piercing and unmerciful. 

She was drawn to feel the empty, cavernous reaches of the cathedral she stood within.  It mirrored the empty hole that had been carved from her heart, which made that cold flame burn all the more intensely. 

The sound of leather being crushed as her fingers fisted slowly at her sides whispered through the aisle. 

She did not answer to mortal beings, not for this sin. 

Her right arm lifted, her fingers uncoiling and she drew the leather glove from her hand - to gaze down on the hilt impression that had been burned into her palm.  A promise; the mark of a debt repaid.  A link to the deed she had done. 

Her fingers closed around her palm, her nails digging into her flesh so deeply that blood blossomed forth and with a low growl, she slapped her bloodied hand down on the altar before the statue of Necrucifer. 

"I have done what I have done!" She practically hissed but her voice lifted, rising to the very heights of the stained glass above.  And in answer she felt the pain recede though the cold anger lingered and in true shalonesti elf fashion, indignation arose.  She felt her back straighten, her hand drawing away from the unnaturally cold altar top and she clenched her jaws, her breath leaving her in a long, low exhale.  There had been a time in her life when it would have taken more to stir her.  Her vulnerabilities had been admittedly lesser but also shielded much better and she sought the darkness in an attempt to regain her lost composure. 

The silence that descended yet again was heavier, expectant and she closed her dark blue eyes beneath it.  The act of bearing her soul to her God was nigh overwhelming and though she knew there would be no forthcoming answer, she let the cold in - she let it take her conscience - and calm descended.

"You have my devotion, Lord." She breathed in prayer and bowed her head. "Judgment is within Your divine purview.  Take whatever You will of me.  And by Your will, so shall it be."