Limping badly as he keeps up with the others, Kaelaah offers to help Salomae with the captive goblins.
It was my call to capture them… it is only fair that I help with taking them to… wait!!!
Kaelaah coughs, ”Are we planning on bringing the goblins back to the temple? It doesn’t seem right to sully the place on the day of its inauguration… Maybe we would be better turning them over to Sheriff Hemlock?”
…I just hope they’re still where we left them!!!
Being on the few uninjured in the group, Kaede's response is try to assist Kaelaah on the way back. All this blood and ruin.... and for what? She muses as they limp back to the Cathedral, and Kaede guides the firey Sarenite to a pew near Zache.
"I'll go too. I agreed with Kaelaah when we spared them," she admits as she brings up the rear with the others. "Taking the goblins to the Garrison would be a wise idea though. There isn't a good place to hold them at the Cathedral. " After a pause for thought, she'll add, "Actually, I'll go now. You two need to be looked over by the good Sister first." And with that, she'll hurry for the door and down the road to where they left the captives.
"I will remain with Zache and Kaelaah. I am unharmed."
As the others exit the Cathedral proper, Roakkad turns to regard the nobleman. He stares at him, a smile on his face, waiting for the man to speak.
Aldern watches Roakkad smile and stare for a moment before chuckling softly and saying, "Well... I'll see you all tomorrow at midday at the Rusty Dragon then..." With a small, quick bow , he turns and walks briskly away.
As most of the marked head south across the church square it quickly becomes apparent that they need not worry about the goblins: several members of the town guard can be seen dragging the squirming, kicking creatures towards the barracks. The makeshift bindings have been replaced with leather straps and the belts and scarves have been left where the goblins were.
When they arrive back at the Cathedral they find Zache waiting while rows of injured people are arrayed in concentric circles around Sister Amet'ra. Seeing their bleeding wounds, one of the acolytes grabs Sal and Kaelaah and drags them into the outermost circle. When as many injured people as possible have been crowded around her, she raises the golden winged-ankh she wears about her neck and a visible wave of white energy rolls out from her warming and soothing all it touches. Father Zantus and the other priests are moving frantically around the Cathedral healing, calming, and comforting people and, though several have noticed the marked, they seem content for the time being to leave them to do as they see fit...
As Aldern looks him over, Zache's fingers follow his eyes against his own skin, his heart sinking when he realizes the nobleman is staring at his birthmark. Of course, he reminds himself. It's not easy to hide. Suddenly feeling woozy again, as if Tera's words had become a self-fulfilling prophecy, he gratefully drapes his arms over Tera and Aldern's shoulders, thankful for the support. But something is wrong.
"Tera," he manages to gasp as the cathedral doors finally close, "I can't breathe!" When she squeaks an apology and releases her vice-like grip on his ribs, he gratefully takes a deep breath, immediately wishing he hadn't when he hears the sound it makes in his wounded throat, a gruesome gurgle. When the Abadarian helps him lay down on a pew, he barely has time to offer her a thankful smile before exhaustion overtakes him and he slumps, halfway between consciousness and sleep.
By the time the others have returned, he's leaning heavily against the back of the pew, drumming his journal with his fingers, deep in thought, barely even appearing to notice Sister Amet'ra's magical aid, until he runs a hand over his throat and blinks in surprise. He holds up a hand in a slight wave when he sees the others, standing and stretching out his legs with a grimace. "Did you get the goblins taken care of?"
The marked have all seen Sister Amet'ra heal before, some have even learned to use some of the same magic, but it is truly surprising to to see what she is capable of... all the gurgling raspiness of Zache's injured throat is gone when he speaks and his neck is so fully restored that if it were not for his blood drenched shirt it would be impossible to tell he had been injured at all.
Kaede hands Zache's belts and scarves to him as she sits down near Salomae.
"That's what I've been asking myself the whole time. It just seems so... senseless." She looks down at her temple robes, now stained with goblin blood, and tries not to focus on the destruction that she caused by her own hand. "They know we have competent guards, yet we fought a dozen of their number, and I'm fairly sure we didn't deal with the whole warband. Why did they do this? What did they think they'd accomplish?"
"The festival occurs every year on the same date. It has been in planning for months. This festival was especially important, given the, ah...consecration of the cathedral. There is no way the goblins could not have known.
It cannot be coincidence. The raid must have something to do with the cathedral. Perhaps they detest our gods? It is told that Shoanti tribes sometimes declare honorary battles in the name of their tribal totems. But this..." Roakkad's face twists in a scowl. "This lacks all honor!"
Kaelaah has encountered goblins before, his travels across Varisia have - unsurprisingly - led to a few run-ins with the maniacal things... and Roakkad's suggestion that the goblins had some kind of plan amuses the Shoanti somewhat, "You know what I think? The local goblin nests have been watching the traffic on the roads... Seeing everyone come to Sandpoint - and, being curious things, they've just come to see what all the fuss is about"
As he talks, he absent-mindedly rubs his thigh... the deep, potentially crippling wound completely gone by the grace of his goddess...
While the others discuss what might have driven the goblins to attack, Tera gently pulls Zache away from the others.
Tera looks almost nervous as she leads you out of easy earshot of anyone in the cathedral. A feat considering how packed it its. She turns to face you, and it's clear that she's not only nervous, but rather embarrassed about something, given the color of her face.
"Z-zache, can you be honest with me," she asks in a small voice that was most unlike the usually chatty arcanist. THe silence stretches on for a few heartbeats before she asks, "am I beautiful?"
Kaede listens to the debate with a pensive look on her face. "I could accept five or six being, curious seems like the closest word, about the gathering crowds. But we faced a dozen, and considering the noise, there were a lot more then that in town..... twenty-five or thirty goblins at once isn't coincidence. Something is happening, and it scares me to not know what that is. Maybe,one of the three that we subdued can shed some light on the situation."
"Quite right," Father Zantus unexpectedly chimes in, beckoning Tera and Zache back, "Sheriff Hemlock and his men will learn as much as possible from the captured goblins; you all need not concern yourselves with that right now. If you want something to think on this evening try this: when trouble arose you banded together to oppose it- what might that mean regarding why your gods have marked you and brought you together here... In the meantime, there's nothing more you can do here nor in the streets, so you should all head back to the living quarters: get some dinner and try to get some sleep. I'll join you for breakfast and you can make a report on your experience."
Roakkad nods in silent respect to Father Zantus, then excuses himself. He does not head toward his quarters. Rather, he exits the cathedral and begins to walk down the hill toward the ocean. All the while, he thinks on what he has seen this day and on Father Zantus's words.
What meaning can there be to such madness?
The smell of smoke still hangs heavy in the air as he descends the hill toward the beach. Soon, however, the strong ocean winds disperse the smell. His robes, however remain saturated by it.
Sand soon overtakes soil, and he leaves his sandals and staff behind. Tsharat takes to the sky as he pulls his soiled clothes from his body, disrobing to all but his nukna cloth. One foot before the other, he plods directly into the foamy surf, allowing the waves to crash heavily against his body. When the water is to his waist he dives forward, submerged beneath the waves, allowing the cold saltwater to wash away the day.
-------------
He claims his bundled robe but does not dress. The garment is ruined. He retrieves his staff and sandals and begins the hike back up into town. As he does he considers again Father Zantus's words.
Could this be the reason you sent me here, Galjit? To battle goblins in the streets?
While troublesome, a goblin raid hardly seems the work of Gozreh's chosen, let alone that of five other gods. But he is still troubled by the connection between the attack and the new cathedral. The gods themselves, their chosen, the festival, the raid.
There is something I do not yet understand. There must be more to this puzzle. There has to be. Otherwise I am just as lost as before, adrift in an ocean.
He is suddenly famished. Ignoring the strange looks his near-naked form receives, he makes his way back to the cathedral to prepare for the evening meal.
Picking at the bloodstains on his shirt, Zache gratefully takes his belts and scarves from Kaede and begins arranging them to hide the worst of the stains. He half-listens to the discussion of the others as he continues drumming his fingers on his journal, before finally tearing out a page just as Tera leads him out of earshot.
The question is unexpected, and Zache quickly smothers a smile by coughing into one of his scarves. "Could I transcribe your beauty into verse-" he begins, before catching her nervous expression and realizing quotes weren't the best idea. A shame; he had a rather nice sonnet memorized that would compare her to a summer's day.
"Well," he says carefully, folding his arms across his chest and drumming his fingers against his chin, "the simple answer is yes. Beauty is a tricky thing; it's subjective, as is art, or cuisine, or one's opinions of a person. For example, I fancy myself a magnificent poet, but there are those who would think me a pretentious ass. On that note, happy birthday; make sure you read it later, away from prying eyes," he adds, handing her the page before continuing.
"You're all flustered after what that nobleman said, aren't you?" He holds up a hand to forestall her predicted indignant response, smirking. "It isn't hard to tell, Tera. Let me guess: never thought of yourself as all that much; too busy buried in books and prayers to really notice; never put too much effort into the way you look?" He pauses for a moment to read her face. "And now someone's called you beautiful, and you've gotten yourself all worked up over it. Well, don't. It's a compliment. You may not be beautiful to everyone, but you are to someone, and that someone wanted you to know." After a moment, he adds, "Make that two someones," just as Father Zantus calls the two back.
Zache's birthmark itches as Fathe Zantus speaks; he absent-mindedly scratches at his cheekbone. "So the rest of the evening is our own?" he asks, not sure he knows what he wants to do with it.
The Father seems a bit apprehensive at Zache's question; he answers, "I think it would be wise for everyone to remain on the grounds, but you have no more official responsibilities tonight..."
Kaelaah excuses himself as quickly as he can, the constellations of scars upon his wrists - open to the air after his flame vapourised the leather strapping he was wearing this morning, need to be covered... and, he needs to talk to someone...
...with Roakkad heading outdoors once more, the Shoanti decides to share his worries with the unconscious girl that he has been charged with tending - he tells her of the ceremony, of the goblin's attack and of how, in the madness of battle, he could not contain his fire... and how, with so many of the townsfolk having seen him lose control once more, he worries that he will no longer be welcome in Sandpoint...
Astrid, her coma unchanged, does not respond yet... somehow, Kaelaah finds his worry lighten a little...
Tera blushes an even darker shade at the gift, though she does manage a polite, if quiet, "Thank you."
When Zache mentions being flustered, she just shyly nods. Beautiful was a word people used to describe Elizabeth or Kaede, not her. As Zache continues on, seemingly reading her thoughts, and despite being told not to get worked up over it, she manages to appear as if she's trying to hide in her robes.
Before she can say a word, however, Father Zantus calls them over.
Tera, needing a moment to clear her head goes back to the cell she shared with Elizabeth and closes the door. She lays the page on the small writing table and begins to change our of the bloodied, torn, and soot-stained robes and into a nightgown. Curious about the page Zache had given her, she opens it up and reads it.
While some of the other chosen are unnerved by the excessive attention that their tattoos bring, Roakkad is long accustomed to such interest. Even as a young boy he was often called upon to bless this mother or that child, to pray to Gozreh for a strong rain or a gentle winter, and yes, even to heal the sick. But his god had not given him the power to heal. He could heal no better than the crashing waves, nor the roaring winds. A mother lion cannot heal its injured cub, only fret and rage as nature runs its course. Such are the ways of Gozreh, and such was the nature of her gifts to Roakkad.
"Mother," he says, taking her gently by the hands that grasp him. "I am sorry for your boy. I would tend to him if I could, but I am no medicine man."
He looks past her tear-stained face, past her red and swollen cheeks, and into her eyes. They are dark, the color of a looming stormcloud, and they rain just the same. Her grief is painted on her face in the only colors of human suffering: wisdom born of pain.
"But if your boy is to die this day, know that I will pray that his soul takes flight; that he soars above the mountains and even the clouds, and that he makes his way home. I will smile for him, and speak kind words upon the wind. For when it comes time to die, we must not be like those whose hearts are filled with the fear of death. We must sing his death song, and know that he dies like a hero going home."
With that, he kisses her hand, bows in humble tribute, and continues on his way.
He hopes she didn't notice the tears in his eyes.
As he tries to quietly walk home to the church she continues to follow him shouting, Make way everyone, make way... one of chosen coming through! He's too busy to help an injured child, so get of his way quickly. Too busy swimming to help a child, all hail the marked ones," when she finishes she runs off clutching the hair.
Upon calming from the crisis, An eagerness to be alone crept over Kaede. So, she takes the good Father's comments as a dismissal, and with a quick bow of respect to Father Zantus, she hurries back to her quarters. Upon reaching her quarters, she all but tears off her ceremonial garb, in hopes that she can try to clean them.
Then she gets a good look at the damage to her temple robes. Blood red splatters all along the front... soot scattered in streaks from the burning stalls... All the memories from home associated with these robes, sullied by a goblin raid. These feelings become more ingrained with a glance at her glaive's blade, soiled from the heart's blood that she spilled.
"For all the training and drilling that I've done," she mutters to herself, trying her best to not tear up. "Actually fighting is a far less pleasant affair. So much death..." After pulling on some of her everyday clothes, Kaede heads to the laundry, in hopes she can save the robes.
The page is torn from Zache's ever-present, well-worn journal. While one side is a mess of half-started lines and brainstormed rhymes, the other bears, in his neat slanted handwriting, fourteen lines of verse. Though the rhyme is clumsy in places (explaining the brainstorming on the page's reverse) and the ink is slightly smudged, as if it had been written shortly before being folded, there's sentiment in the words - and as the old proverb states, "It's the thought that counts".
Tradition states as one does age in years,
One's friends give gifts and sing their songs rehearsed;
Though I cannot give much, so it appears,
Except for this most humble page of verse.
Read through these lines, my simple birthday gift;
Appreciate the message they conceal;
For it may not seem much, but should you sift,
Look harder, many things will be revealed.
I wish you health; I wish that through the years,
Ne'er shall you worry, stress, or weep or fret;
Defy those who would seek to bring you tears;
Enjoy the company of those you've met.
Revere this life, find joy in what you do -
Such is my honest birthday wish to you.
With the rest of the evening his own, watching the other Marked disperse, Zache sits cross-legged in the front pew, clearing his throat. He begins speaking, retelling the tale of the day's events in the best way he knows how - in verse.
"'Twas just today the goblin raid did strike our Sandpoint fair,
The greedy horde with upraised swords that glittered in the air..."
Though he tries, his heart simply isn't in it, and he stops after only a few verses with a muttered apology to the three people who'd been listening.
Tera can't help but chuckle. It wasn't his best work, far from it, but it was written for her. The young woman smiles as she reads it again, then a third time, before putting it in her spellbook.
Elizabeth giggles as Tera sighs and neatly places the folded poem in her spellbook. "Shall I fetch you a quill," she asks in an over-exaggerated servant's tone, "so that you can practice writing 'Missus Tera Kovachi' my lady?"
Momentarily forgetting about the horrors of the day, young Elizabeth rolls around on her bed in a fit of laughter over teasing Tera. With the aftermath that was likely waiting tomorrow there wasn't much chance it would last, but for now, at least for one innocent girl, there was happiness.
In the morning Brother Faustwick gathers the marked from their rooms and leads them, together, up to the formal dining room. They enter to find none of the typically fanciness- the same wooden dishes and cheap utensils used downstairs, and the same plain simple food are set before them. Father Zantus is already seated and motions for the marked to take their seats. As everyone is getting situated he says, "I apologize from pulling you away from everyone else this morning... you have experienced something that the other students cannot truly understand, and I would just as soon talk about it here rather than have them listening in. So, tell me: what happened yesterday?"
Kaede uncharacteristically looks tired this morning. In an attempt to try to clean her temple garb, she spent several hours scrubbing them in the laundry last night getting little sleep in the process. In fact, this morning was the first time recent history that someone else had to wake her for morning prayers.
"From what I can tell," she begins after an awkward silence, "the local goblin nests decided the raid us yesterday, just as we were about christen the Cathedral. In response, we jumped to defend the town from several waves of them, including rescuing a nobleman that was about to be drug off by the goblins. It was a fast and brutal mess. We don't know what brought about this attack." Kaede pauses there to let the others chime in, or to let Father Zantus further his interogation.
In the late hours of the evening, when the acolyte he rooms with is asleep (Brother Lancre is a sweet-natured boy, but not blessed with an overabundance of brains, Zache reminds himself), the young Desnan slides the window open with practiced ease and slips out onto the sill, journal stuffed into his shirt, inkpen clutched between his teeth. The stone doesn't lend itself well to climbing, but there's enough strength left in his fingertips to get him to the roof. It's there that he lays, hands behind his head, staring up at the endless sky above him.
"I nearly died today," he says quietly, one hand rubbing at his throat. "But I suppose you already saw that." His eyes fix on the usual star, just north of the Twins, twinkling faintly against the midnight blue. "It was a goblin, of all things - not even; one of their mangy ratlike dogs." He allows himself a small laugh. "Kaede... she probably saved my life. And I made a damned fool of myself.
"It wasn't all that bad, until the goblins attacked. The food was fantastic, and I danced that dance you taught me when I was twelve - took me three months to get the hang of it, remember? After the raid, though... it was awful. Fires, screaming, people wounded..." He pauses for a few moments, shivering in the night chill. "I don't know why, but the six of us - me and the others with marks - we all just leaped into action. It was risky, and I'm not sure how we didn't lose anyone. Salomae was wounded, Tera nearly lost an arm, Kaelaah nearly burned himself out... and I nearly died. I know I said that already, but you always said to stress the important parts, right?"
After a few moments of silence, he sighs, sitting up again, then standing, stretching in the moonlight. "Was good talking to you, Bunic. I still miss you down here, but I hope everything's well among the stars. Same time tomorrow, eh?"
Blowing a kiss to the sky, he carefully picks his way back down the wall, before sliding back through the window and into bed.
----------
Dressed in blue and white today, Zache sits bleary-eyed and messy-haired at the table, his kapenia draped loosely around his neck and shoulders. Chin resting in one hand, he nearly nods off, pinching his own thigh under the table to keep himself awake. His dreams had been fitful and filled with fire.
"I'm not sure what else to add, Father," he states, a weary note entering his voice despite his efforts to keep it at bay. "Other than that the six of us seemed to perform exceptionally well together."
Father Zantus smiles a particularly paternal smile and speaks again, "I know the events that transpired... that's not what I meant to ask about. What happened within each of you? All six of you charged into danger while everyone else was fleeing from it; why? Some of you took a life for the first time; what was that like? Some of you suffered your first serious injury; how has that effected you?"
Roakkad stared into his porridge. He swirled his spoon through the thick gruel but ate none of it. He had no appetite this morning. He couldn't rid his mind of the mother he had encountered the day before. As bad as that had been, he knew there were many more like her. To be "chosen" was no easy thing. It could draw infamy and ire, especially from those who believed them immortal or powerful.
I am not powerful. I am just a man.
He looked up, then. "It makes me question what we're here for, Father. Look at Zache. If Desna has chosen him, why did he nearly die? The same holds true for the rest of us. What purpose can there be in pitting us against goblin blades? If indeed we are chosen for greatness, surely there must be greater purpose to it than goblins."
Dressed in loose fitting cotton, Kaelaah considers Father Zantus' enigmatic question...
What does he mean? He knows what happened yesterday... Enough folk witnessed the attacks... Has he heard tell from the Sheriff as to what the goblins wanted? Oh no....
Kaelaah, visibly reddens...
Is he talking about me using fire out there in the town?
...fortunately Roakkad turns the conversation towards the idea that yesterday's events were in some way linked to their deific marks, "Father, you believe that yesterday's events were a test?"
Kaede sits quietly as the others discuss the new questions. "I ... I did what I've been trained for most of my life: protect people, even if I had to end lives to do it," she finally adds. "Even if they didn't listen to me, I gave them the option to surrender or run, and I would have accepted any honest offer of surrender. That's the reason I agreed with Kaelaah's plan to tie them up. I don't know if I could just kill a helpless foe."
With a deep breath, Kaede continues. "As for taking lives.... I don't think if it was avoidable." She gets a slightly pained expression on her face. "They were intent on setting fires for the sake of burning, and if they weren't doing that, they were swinging their blades about, striking anyone in range. My Lady says that there is beauty in all souls, but letting anyone run around and maim others has to be stopped. I... I still need to come to terms with my killing blows, but I have a feeling that I will. I know this is but the first time that I must draw blood in the defense of others."
"Father Zantus, you know as well as anyone that I am a poet, not a warrior," Zache says, his voice uncharacteristically quiet. "But my grandfather always told me that words held power beyond understanding. If there was any chance that my craft would help the others, when they so selflessly charged into danger, I had to take the risk. I had to follow. Did I nearly die as a result? Yes. Would I have done so anyway, knowing that risk? Yes." He takes a sip of his water, before continuing, "It was a unique opportunity, a chance to live a fuller life than I had imagined. And while it brought pain, it also brought experience, for I had luck and allies on my side."
He pauses to look over the others at the table, his eyes resting on Kaede. "There was no beauty in those creatures," he says in a low tone, fingers rubbing the hem of his scarf. "Only anger and hate. I killed for the first time yesterday, and my dreams were filled with fire, but it had to be done."
"I will not deny that there is uglyness in evil," Kaede responds to Zache's comment,"but there must always be the option of redemption. After all, my Lady has yet to give up on the brother, even now."
Kaelaah murmurs in agreement with Kaede, "There must always be the thought of redemption... after all the night must always give way to the warming hues of the morning".
A flash of fire burns behind Kaelaah's eyes, "Even when it is those you hold dearest who have been endangered"
"I can see no greater meaning to the tragedy yesterday. The goblin warriors chose to attack the innocent. There was no bravery, no honor in it. The result of that action is theirs to bear. Some may live, some may die. It is the way of things, and I do not regret the goblin deaths."
Father Zantus listens intently to all his students have to say, even as they begin to experience some tension among themselves. Once again the corners of his lips raise into an unusually paternal smile. Stroking his beard he remarks, "I wish that I could offer some greater meaning for you... the truth is that I am so greatly interested in what happened because I still don't know for what reason the gods have assembled you here but I have a strange sense that whatever it is it's drawing near. And, I fear it won't be safe."
Absentmindedly twirling some of his beard hair around his finger he continues, "Though you each see the world differently, and have different feelings about what you were called upon to do, you all showed a great deal of trust in one another and in the powers the gods have given you, whether magical or mundane. That trust, I suspect, will be essential for you to continue to foster. Whatever else we've learned, I am more certain than ever that your fates are interconnected. And, I agree that your calling is about far more than goblins but from what Sheriff Hemlock has told me there is very likely more to this raid than simple goblin violence... perhaps you are being drawn into something..."
After drifting into quiet contemplation mid-sentence, the high priest excuses himself. Brother Faustwick follows him out stating, "We will be completing the consecration privately this morning. Sister Hera has been informed that you will not be joining us for lunch, but your chores best be completed before you leave."
"AAAGH! Elizabeth! How long have you been there," Tera asks in a rush, completely caught off guard by her friend.
"Ever since you walked in," Elizabeth answers with a grin through her laughter. The young acolyte's honey-blonde hair falls from the edge of her bed as she lays on her back and looks at Tera with a twinkle in her chocolate-brown eyes, "relax, it's not like I meant to spy on you. You were just too out of it to notice."
"I guess I was," Tera admits before curling up on her bed. She wonders if she should tell Elizabeth about what had happened, and why she was so flustered. She was her friend, almost a sister, to the young arcanist, but Tera wasn't even sure why she was flustered. It couldn't just be because she'd been called beautiful, could it?
"Tera, what's wrong," Elizabeth asks, snapping her out of her reverie. The Shelynite had spun around until she was sitting on her bed, and she looks at Tera with concern.
"I--," Tera begins to say, but the words catch in her throat, part of her wants to tell Elizabeth, but she can't get the words out.
Just say it. If you can't confide in your friend, your best friend, who can you talk to. You didn't seem to have a problem with talking to Zache. Spit it out. Say something. Anything!
Tera's face flushes again as she looks down into her knees. Her voice is soft and quiet, meek with embarrassment.
"D-do you think that I'm beautiful?"
Elizabeth's expression changes from concern to one of confusion, one eyebrow rises up while she tries to understand what Tera just said. The silence stretches on for what seems like an eternity for Tera, and the young woman just buries her head in her knees.
"Hey," Elizabeth says softly as she sits beside Tera, her arm wrapping around the younger woman's shoulders in a hug, "can you tell me what happened? What brought this on all of the sudden? You normally aren't like this."
Tera looks up at that, her eyes wide and innocent. The fact was, both of them were on the sweet and innocent side, which went a long way to explaining why they'd been put in the same room. Tera felt her guard coming down. This was her friend, a friend who'd seen her at her best and her worst. If she couldn't tell her, who could she tell?
"It was after we had finished with the goblins in the square. We heard a commotion coming from the north and went to find out what it was..."
Tera told Elizabeth about what had happened, the wounds she'd taken, Aldern helping to slay one of the goblin riders, and the way he'd looked at her when he mentioned not expecting the chosen to be so beautiful. Then came the invitation to lunch, and her asking Zache if she was beautiful, unable to believe that anyone say her like that. Cute, yes, but never beautiful.
"...So he gave me that poem and that's pretty much everything," Tera says, finishing what had happened.
Elizabeth thought for a moment before speaking, picking her words and arranging them with care.
"You never have had the best opinion of yourself," she says soothingly, "Just because today was the first time you've heard it said, doesn't mean it's not true. You are beautiful, Tera, and not just on the outside. You care about others, deeply so, and it never occurred to you that others could see you like you think they see me or Kaede or Sal."
Tera just nodded, having heard the same thing from Zache earlier.
"It's nothing to get so flustered over, Tera. It's only natural that people would start to notice that you have a beauty all your own," Elizabeth finishes, giving the arcanist a tight, sisterly hug.
Tera's quiet throughout the small meeting. She's still coming to grips with what happened yesterday, the raid and the sudden interest Aldern and Zache had shown, both. At their dismissal, Tera goes about her business, quickly finishing the chores she'd been assigned before heading out for some fresh air before lunch.
"I'm told that there are stories circulating the city about your actions yesterday..." the high priest says, "but even so I'm not certain Sheriff Hemlock would allow you to speak with the prisoners... Do any of you even speak goblin? Regardless, it may still be worthwhile for you all to head to the barracks before your lunch and see if there is anything the Sheriff is willing to share..."
"It seems like a good idea to try, at the very least,"Kaede admits. "it's likely that we can at least get some clue to why the goblins attacked."