"Well, it was lovely seeing you again. Valkinvar-Imdvarce Vapooliar." Sister Dannatili tells me, her hand coming up for what I think is a salute. My own motions become stillborn for a blink of the eyes and I adjust my hand to a wave. Emulating her own parting gesture. I carry on waving, watching her leave with a peculiar amount of haste.
I sense no animosity from her and I've not crossed any intimate boundaries. It is possible she was simply holding it in, her urgency to deliver her message. Rather crudely, like how someone might need to go to the toilet but hold it in just for a few sweet seconds of conversation. Right up until they're willing to burst.
"Mm." I let out, anyway. I try to shake my head clear of my thoughts and I bring my hand down, putting it back to my side. It rests on my helmet, unhooking it from my belt and I put it back on. My breathing becomes restricted by the steel plate and I lean out towards the open view and fall.
Magic surrounds me and I float off elsewhere, content for the moment with what I have found out. It's a bit odd, but what Sister Dannatili has told me suggests the problems Sister Pymonsia spoke of are not too severe. Simple problems of regarding how to manage the heretics and our troops. It has been some time since the Valkinvar amassed beyond the size of Flocks.
I've heard of Gales forming, Tornadoes, too. But to have a force as large as a Storm or, rather, a Hurricane is something else entirely. Armies of Valkinvar, the greatest witches in all of Jherikra, mounting together on the war-footing. Even if we cannot destroy the airships on our own as Feathers, we simply bring the whole bird of prey.
A smirk lightens up my shadowed lips and I feel some amount of weight lift from my mind. This is good to know, even if the way everyone is going about it is odd. There are better ways to assemble troops than to embarrass them and strip them of their ranks... Then again, why was Sister Pymonsia so shaken up when explaining what little she could tell me...?
"It's a strange thing, indeed-" I start to say, the toll of ceremonial bells throughout the temple complex catching my attention. All of Thurnmourer-Jherikra is ringing with divine decree and want. Instinct makes me flinch, but my mind anchors me still. Cruel memories linger in my mind's eye, reminding me of why I cannot answer the call.
A mass, the bells toll for a mass to be held for all the Valkinvar who can. Though I can walk, run and fly. Bound mountains in a single leap and break sound with my starting sprint... I'm not allowed to come and attend in the slightest. Not because I am banned, but because I am who I am. A sister of the Valkinvar who does not have her sacred virginity.
My blood has spilled and it's the blood that should never have been spilt...
"I cannot attend." I mutter, eyeing the distant occupants of the temple grounds. They're bundling together, heading off in quiet conversation, approaching its end. Each step, each new sister and brother that joins them. It kills off anything that is not faith and holy desire.
I turn away, heading down a quiet path, hoping to not be spotted. It's always like this, every mass and congregation of note. I once wished so dearly to be able to pray side-by-side with my sisters again. Have my pain be shared in the whimpers in the air and the tears rolling down our faces. Yet that is not to be, I am back in the Grand Temple of the Four-Winded Valkinvar and I have been denied the right.
My following steps are damning and I arrive before a building line of sister Valkinvar. Valkinvar-Imdvarce. A frown settles on my face and I flinch, stepping back and then aside. Though many still have their helmets on like I do, those that don't betray the emotions of those that are fully armoured. Their eyes are on me, perplexing over my apprehension more so than my altered dress.
With how many have been wrongfully disgraced as of late, no one is looking at the scratches on my armour. The blood soaking my cape is of no regard either, an oddity, a peculiar one at that. But not worth the attention. Even the badge of office, gifted to me by the Eurultus-Valkinvar, is worth not one spare thought.
They're all paying attention to me standing aside from the column...
"Oh, Sister, do not fret! Come, come!" a particularly giddy and short sister Valkinvar asks of me. Her energetic movements taking hold of me and hauling me to the back of the build-up. A sense of herd minded calm settles in and I cling to my little sister, her name escaping me.
"I... Uh, it's fine- I was just..." I struggle to explain, my words breaking apart as fear freezes so much of me solid. Utter terror and it's coming for my sense of comfort.
"Sister?" she asks, her confusion only tightening her grip as my armour rattles away inside of it. I keep ongoing, forcing my way out and catching the eyes of many other sister Valkinvar. Glares making up many of them and their expressions.
"I'm- I'm in the middle of something- It's urgent, I'll be with you shortly!" I lie, breaking out of her grip and rocketing for the open sky. I break away, heading straight for a library tower as what seems to be the last of its occupants departs it. As she leaves, I crash onto the landing platform, rolling through tables and chairs. Scrolls and tablets.
I heave my helmet off, throwing it across the tower with hyperventilating despair. My mouth refuses to close, drying out as I keep emptying my lungs across the room. It slows down, thankfully it all slows down and I stumble to my feet proper. I clutch my chest, pressing my gloved fingers against my steel plate, and I stumble further back.
My back bangs up against a pillar, and my legs wobble. Some calm finally manages to fight its way into my senses, though it's a bloody, forlorn affair. The adrenaline won't go away. It won't go...
"H-Huh...?" I let out, feeling wet trails go down my cheeks. The gentle patter of the tears hitting my plate armour. Shattering across them like liquid glass that has all the properties of regular planes of it. My weak legs carry me forward and I claw my helmet back into my grip.
A mirror comes into view, and I eye it carefully, looking at my reflection. Word will spread. Word will spread of an oddly behaving Valkinvar-Imdvarce. One with a blood-soaked cape and a medallion of the highest office of the Valkinvar. News of a Valkinvar-Imdvarce who ran from mass.
If such rumours did not exist up until this point, then they most certainly do now. Word of a freak Valkinvar. A faithless wretch... A heretic among our number. Me.
"I'm not... I'm not..." I struggle to speak, my helmet trembling away as my lungs threaten to behave as they did before.
"Hello?" a soft voice questions, a gentle force of magic washing into the library tower. It spreads across the vast room, repairing all it can and putting everything back the way it was. I look at the magic, my eyes swelling wide with awe. My runaway tears only magnifying the beauty of it all into sparkles that chase my attention off on a distant trail.
Unondsburic Emerald, a first among equals of gold, ruby and sapphire...
"Z-Zaphadren-Valkinvar!?" I almost squeal, my skin going pale with terror and all the flight that comes with broken spirits and weak wills. She raises her hand gently, offering me no sense of danger or worry. Though her magic corrals me closer, her posture is all but welcoming.
"What troubles you, Valkinvar-Imdvarce Vapooliar?" she asks, remembering me for all sorts of reasons as her glossy lips curve into a full smile. Their plumpness flexes about, her tender grip passing through my armour as if it's not there.
"I'm... I'm..." I struggle to answer, for the truth is damning.
I look around, desperate for a lie.
"I want to pray alone. It's... It's been so long since I..." I try to explain, hoping she remembers just enough about me, if at all.
"Of course, not to worry a thing." she says, her eyes trailing to the medallion gifted to me by her fellow Point of a Compass. Her eyes narrow slightly, but her smile all but grows. The warmth it makes almost enough to melt the candles about the library in the absence of their fires. Our minds are almost alike, and a giggle breaks open her lips further as ruby winds reignite the wicks.
Her hand gently takes mine, and she walks me out of the tower, letting me trail after her of my own strength. We find ourselves in the air, almost in a strangely lover's like embrace, as my shaken sense of self finds strong footing once again. She keeps her eyes facing mine, their emerald shine all but dominating the overwhelming brown of mine.
"Come." she whispers, her lips hooking at the ends into a tempting smirk. Her fingers slither away and I follow after her, hoping to keep in their grip at best. Within reach at worst. Within reach of her trailing magic at even worst...
"I'm sorry, Zaphadren-Valkinvar Gemorli..." I can't help but say as I think back to my time in the Chamber of Traitor's Judgement. She was the one to pass my sentence, the one to order that I am to be stripped of my rank. From Wing-Head Vapooliar, to Sister Vapooliar alone.
"Do not fret, my dear Sister. I can tell you are under new authority, so I'm sure your mind is heavy with many thoughts." she says, not worried about my circumstances at all despite passing so many sentences as of late.
"Th-Thank you." I mutter, not sure what else to say. We land on a quiet pathway, one that stays that way when it comes to voices. Whoever might be able to break the silence is far away now, headed to mass. Only my sabatons and her delicate heels dare to break it and do so in an almost musical manner. One timed with the wind and the chimes singing away as their whistling voices come and go.
All four of Sister Gemorli's colours come out into view, spiralling towards the doors ahead. I look around, noting the absurd regality of the chambers we are entering. I look back the way we've come and my mouth opens up... This is the part of the temple for those of the highest ranks. I should not be here- Unless...?
"Am I even allowed to be here?" I ask, uncertain of my actions, even with a Point of the Compass at my side. Sister Gemorli turns my way, her eyes closed but her smile ever wide.
"Of course, while you wear that medallion above your matrimonial scar... You carry the same authority as I might with my very presence," the Zaphadren-Valkinvar explains with a simple shrug not all that welcome before such gaudy displays across even the floors. So many treasures of the Valkinvar are here. Old prizes and old weapons of our most storied members.
I cannot even begin to tell where the tales end and begin. Where names change and where new Valkinvar come into view, those who have their names carved here go on forever. At some point, even, all four of the Points of the Compass will find themselves here as well. Not in life, but as guiding mosaics and art without compare for all who love beauty to gaze upon.
Her magic goes on ahead more, opening another door and unveiling a series of displays. We walk into the almost museum-like chamber and pass many suits of armour and weapons. Artefacts of conquered kingdoms and slain generals. There's even an in-work pedestal for a piece of technology for the airships. A plaque with an undecided number as the pile of tablets and reports frustrate the carver into perpetual delay.
Even a full suit of...
"Is that... Armour of the Lunar Royalty of the Mighty Moon?" I question, stepping up to what must be an ancient piece of gear from our heretical enemy. An impossibly ornate suit of armour and accompanying lance marked with all of the wealth of the Great Seven Peaks... Even redstone of all things is sanded into the steel plating, so translucent with magic it has practically turned emerald itself. Though what kind is hard to tell with how dark the steel is burned with magic.
"It is, indeed." Zaphadren-Valkinvar Gemorli sighs lovingly and I frown in brief thought. An 'ah' ends my thoughts, answering it with an assumption of her past glory and what a brilliant feat it must've been.