The Sun Must Set

[Bvie 1754]

 

The birds flocked overhead, occasionally diving into the fresh waters of the lake for a sip before returning to the ever blue skies of Ceru. Chatter can be heard up and down the streets of the city, from bartering over fresh bread at the baker’s house to lewd talks and jests between veterans at the tavern, where mead overflowed mugs and washed down steaks. However, the merriment of the city would become dull and distant as one would head towards the estate.

 

Tall gray buildings jut out from the island’s terrain, the neutral color a constant reminder of the nation’s goal. Yet, even as neutral as neutral can be, a cold feeling washes over those that stare at it, only offset by the white of the pillars that hold such cold walls up. Men in black uniforms walk silently into the building, tossing a lever as an iron portcullis slinks down behind them, cutting off the world to the interior of the building.

 

Their boots scratch along the rough edging of each stone step, their hands hold both the wooden banister and the hilt of their weapons as they ascend the staircase. One approaches the door and lifts their hand, their knuckle raps against the door thrice before opening it slowly.

 

“Princess…?”

 

A small woman stands in front of a mirror in a simple and thin white gown that kisses the cold stone floor. Her usual dresses of blacks and blues lay hung over the changing screen that sits adjacent to the mirror. She raises her hands to the back of her head, running her fingers up along the soft, naked peach skin of her neck, as her eyes meet his in the mirror’s reflection.

 

“Yes?”

 

The man clears his throat, his beard barely hiding the rose color in his cheeks, as he bows his head.

 

“We are ready when you are, my Lady.”

 

Her fingers slide further upwards into her hair, entwining with the strands of soft brown before removing small silver pins from within the nest she had. Her hair cascades downward, covering her naked neck, falling to the middle of her back. Her fingers continue to dance with the strands of hair, removing a never-ending amount from within, as more and more of the soft locks fall down. Eventually her hands do not return to the back of her head, but lift up to the sides. They move ever carefully move press inwards and move upwards as the golden circlet, decorated with shells and gems alike, moves with her digits. It shines in the torch’s light, the gems causing the circlet to appear to have a luminosity of its own….perhaps? Or perhaps the circlet truly did shine on its own. But as softly as she had raised it, she lowers it upon a soft cushion of teal color. She moves from the mirror to the desk and removes a simply blue tome before turning towards the door. Her own image, looking quite softer, younger, and -perhaps- happier, without the circlet and adornments greets the men that stand at the door and moves towards them.

 

“Very well.”

 

The torch’s soaked wrappings become ablaze as the guard moves their own torch to it. The light spreading out across the darkened room, the shadows scream silently as the light’s roar forces them to flee once more to the far corners of existence for a time. Her bare feet step against the cold and cracked stone, yet the frigidness seems to be unable to deter her from the task at hand. Her silent steps lead her to an old spruce cabinet as the men's’ loud steps echo throughout the stone room. They remove their weapons: swords, axes, warhammers, and shields, and step towards an old quartz pedestal that sits in the center of the room.

 

Golden lines have been etched into the quartz’ base, running up the sides of it in an arrangement of designs and patterns. Upon reaching the circular flat top of the pedestal, the lines run along the outer edge and connect with one another. The men lean their weapons against the pedestal, their hilts pointing towards the high stone ceilings where a simple spider takes a moment from its busy life of spinning web to watch on silently.

 

She closes the cabinet, a soft clicking of a metal latch closing can barely be heard over the scraping of iron on the stone floor as men position their weapons against the pillar. Their loud steps on the floor, their armor clinking as they step, over pour her own silent steps as she approaches the pillar herself. She places some items down in a small carved out recess within the pillar before standing straight with the tome in hand. A wave of her hand across the top of the white and gold top sends a small puff dust into the air before she lays the tome upon it. She slides her fingertips across the blue leather and opens it slowly, her fingers caressing the numerous bumps and grooves within the old leather. Her fingers turn the cover and several pages, slowly scanning each page's’ contents with each motion, until coming to a stop about a third way through the book.

 

Her form bends, her face coming closer to the tome, as her hands search the darkness of the carved recess until she straightens up with a simple flint and steel between her fingers. She places the flint and steel next to the tome and turns her head slightly, her hair shifting with the slightest of motions, to the door, giving a soft nod. The door clicks closed and the door is locked from the inside, the guard returning the nod before she turns back to the pedestal.

 

She places her palms on each side of the pedestal and exhales slowly before taking in a deep breath. Her eyes close as her soft pink lips slowly opening to finally address the silence that had befallen the room.

 

“Lord of Light, Patron of Purity, I call to you this day. I, your humble servant, request you to empart me with a small spark of your eternal flame to fulfill your will. Tahariae, my Lord, aid me this day in assisting those you have charged me with and continuing your fight.”

 

Her voice echos against the stone walls as her lips close until it falls silent, the only sound being the waves that rocked against the shore from far below. She remains still, long after the echos dispersed to the nothingness, as the eyes of the guards shift from one another silently.

 

A sharp inhale breaks the silence as her eyes open, golden light shining from deep within. Her fingers grasp the pedestal tightly as the Aengul’s powers courses through her, a light being lit inside of her very being that now pulsates its warmth and strength. She looks down at her hands, her knuckles white and her fingers digging into the quartz stone. She releases the breath slowly, allowing herself to become accustomed to the power and slowly her grip relaxes as she moves her hands from the pedestal. Her small hands scoop up the flint and steel, moving it between her fingers, and turns from the pedestal to approach a tall, yet thin, golden candle holder. The flint and steel is raised to the wick of the candle, a faint gold that matches its holder.

 

“Tahariae, Oh Blessed One, Aengul and Lord of Purity,

I bow before Thy glory.

I am but mortal dust, yet You have chosen me to do Thy will,

And I am honored to fulfill it.”

 

The golden candle would spark alight, it’s luminosity hanging brightly in the shadowy room. Even though a mere candle, it shined brighter than that of the torches that hung along the wall. A faint smile creeps across her face as the warmth of the light seeps into her skin. She turns on her heel and steps towards yet another golden candle holder to the west of the pedestal; this time, a blue candle sits undisturbed atop it.

 

“O Pure One, to You I promise my life,

And pray that You would use it to bring glory to You.

To You I promise my soul,

And pray Thy Five Tenents be upheld in all my actions.”

 

The wick of the blue candle ignites, similarly to the first candle. However, along with the increased luminosity and warmth, comes a gentle breeze. It wraps itself around the room and the guards, causing their tabards to move. It worms its way between them before wrapping around herself, momentarily causing her hair to rise and fall before returning to circle the room. Her path continues, approaching a silver candle.

 

“To You I promise my loyalty,

And pray that I shall serve no other Lord before Thee.

And to You I promise my heart,

And pray that Thy light may purify it and make it just.”

 

The silver candle catches aflame before the flint and steel even comes close to the wick, her mere prayer and inner light setting the candle alight. But unlike before, the gentle breeze becomes harsh, almost violent. The wind picks up in strength, circling the candle holders, howling loudly as the torch lights in the room begin to quiver, as if bowing down in respect to the ritual before them. She moves to the final candle, a white one, and speaks loudly to overcome the howling winds that rip through the room.

 

“May this day be a testament to Thy Glory!”

 

The four candles shine brightly now lit and aflame. Almost, too brightly. Their lights grow in strength, as does the wind, and should someone been looking at the lights directly, they may have even been forced to turn away from the sheer luminosity. But then, …..peace. The howling wind died away, the bright lights returned to their softness, and a glow now encircled the pedestal. The four candle holders, positioned in each direction, forming a circle of purity to all that laid within their domain. The figure in white moved within the beacons, returning the flint and steel and the blue tome to the hidden alcove and drawing the first of the objects, a sword, left by the guards and setting it upon the pedestal.

 

Her hands hover over the simple blade as she closed her eyes. Her tongue ran over her lips as she took in a slow breath.

 

“Tahariae, my Lord of Light and Protector of Purity, I ask for you to assist these mortals in their time of need. Their struggle against the Darkness continues, and unless it is kept in check, soon they will be swallowed whole. They have come this day to ask for your assistance, my Lord. Please, I beg of you, to use me as a vessel for your power and bestow upon them a spark of the everburning flame of purity.”

 

Her prayer hangs on the tip of her tongue, similar to how her hands hang in the air above the weapon. However, her mind was no longer there.

 

Darkness.

 

Never ending darkness surrounded her.

 

Her steps were silent, her voice as well no matter how loud she tried to call out within this eternal night.

 

However, she continued on, always just a step ahead of the shadowy tendrils that tried to reach out to her, desperate to grasp her, to pull her in, to envelop her.

 

How long had she been walking? How long could she continue? How long til she reached the end?

 

Was there an end…?

 

Her steps slowed, her limbs ached, her chest heaved.

 

She could feel the shadows slipping around her ankles and wrists, snaking up her limbs, pulling her down. Her chest becoming compressed as they wrapped around it tightly, the coldness gripping her neck, her vision becoming cloudy. The coldness….so cold….so tired….it felt….almost welcoming….nice….a cold numbness to the pains and struggles she fought so long and so hard against. Her eyes became heavy as she closed them, a small speck of white in the darkness would be her final memory of this life.

 

A magnificent bellow shook her awake. The thundering of hooves, a thundering so loud that the ground beneath her shook violently. The darkness before her eyes began to part, the shadowy tendrils that had swallowed her quickly tried to unravel themselves from her body. The layers...so many layers of shadows...of lies...of betrayal...of darkness….so many of them unwrapped from her. How long was she engulfed in their coldness? Her limbs slowly became undone as the bellowing grew louder. Her hands clawed at the shadows as her feet kicked at them, their shrieks and cries filled her mind. But it was not her they shrieked for.

 

The bellow rang out, shaking her form once more, as the thundering of hooves neared. The magnificent form of a Silver Stag charged towards her, its head bowed and antlers carving a path through the eternal darkness. The shadows darted away, the bits that still attached themselves to her ankles dragged her roughly from the charging stag. She screamed a silent scream as her fingers dug into the ground, trying to fight their pull.

 

However the Silver Stag continued to charge towards them, only picking up in speed as it neared her rather than slowing, until leaping from the ground once close enough and diving into her small frame. The world lit up before her. She felt the warmth, she felt the strength, she felt the Aengul’s light within her. The Darkness shrieked in pain and fear, letting go of her form and retreating to the ends of the plane’s existence.She gave a long sigh of relief as she closed her eyes, taking in the deep breath and opening her eyes once more.

 

However she stood before the pedestal, a single blade sitting atop the quartz. Her eyes looked towards the guards, standing there as if nothing had happened. Had it been in her head? Had nothing happened? She knew better than this, however, for she felt the Aengul’s presence, his light, within her. She moved her hands towards the blade and they were immediately engulfed in a powerful light which cascaded down onto the blade. It slowly wrapped around the blades entirety, hilt and edge alike, until all of it was covered in the pure light. With a forward motion of her hands, she urged the light inward, causing it to seep into the object’s core. Within a few moments, the weapon itself began to shine brightly, a light….a spark of the everburning flame now residing within it.

 

She exhaled slowly, moving her hands from the object and letting the light dim within her hands as she basked in the glow of the blessed blade. The blade shined brightly for several moments once disconnected from the Aengul’s light, until it slowly dimmed, the light turning inward and hibernating within until it was called upon to fulfill its purpose. Her hand reached down, wrapping itself around the hilt and slowly lifting the blade and set it aside. She bent down and picked up a warhammer and set it atop the pedestal. With a quick wipe of her forehead and a deep breath she nodded, moving her hands over the weapon, beginning her work once more.

 

“Princess….are you alright?”

 

She gripped the edge of the pedestal with both hands as sweat dripped from her face. Her soft brown hair now stuck to her forehead as her body perspired. Her small frame heaved up and down from her ragged breaths as she watched the light within the axe turn inward, its blessing hibernating until it was needed.

 

“Fine….I’m fine…”

 

The words obviously tired as they escaped her dry mouth. Her tongue ran over the inside of it, but it only felt like sandpaper on the flesh. She closed her eyes, hiding her unfocused gaze and spoke softly to herself.

 

“Thank you, Tahariae, the miracles you performed here will be remembered for ages.”

 

She slowly opened her eyes once more as she felt the presence within her fade away. The golden light that sparkled in her eyes ceased, the remnants of the glowing lights on her eyes danced upwards into the air before her, like small fireflies that slowly dimmed before disappearing. The candles luminosity began to dim as well before slowly extinguishing themselves as the circle broke, the ritual coming to a close.

 

Her hand raises before her face, moving the hair from her vision, but quickly moving back to the pedestal. The exhaustion she felt surprising her and only then realizing the reliance she had on the pedestal’s solidness to keep her standing as she leaned heavily on it.

 

The guards approached their weapons, picking them up carefully and securing them at their waist and on their backs. A cool metal gauntlet pressed on the small of her back, a shiver running down her soaked spine as she looked up slightly, her body shaking.

 

“Perhaps bed, yes?”

 

The question was less of a question, but more of an order. Her small frame leaned against his hand, as if free falling into his arms as she felt another cold hand slip under her legs and lift her.

 

“Bed? Oh….oh that sounds….yes….”

 

Her head leaned against the coolness of the metal breastplate. The clinking of the armor like a nursery rhyme to her ears, the light bouncing of his arms with each step like a soothing rocking. The man looked down upon her, her white gown soaked and stuck to her curves, her soft features accenting her vulnerable state. No blush rose in his cheeks this time however, merely a look of admiration as he gazed upon her as he set her down in her bed and pulled her blanket over her.

 

“Will she be alright, Gray?”

 

The guard turned from the bed and walked to the other side of the room, past the changing screen and the mirror, to the cushion and picked it up with delicate care.

 

“Indeed.”

 

Gray carried the cushion and circlet over from the desk to the nightstand that sat next to the bed. He looked down upon the sleeping girl as she curled into a fetal position and rubbed her face against the pillow. He turned and headed towards the door.

 

“Come Tyrone,” He remarked as he approached his fellow guard that stood by the door, clasping him on the shoulder. “We must let her rest, for the Sun must set for it to rise once more.”

 

 

Spoiler

Just a detailed take on some Clerical RP between myself and a few friends. Enjoy your new toys~

 

[Aesopian 1640]

I thought the princess had died there.

 

When she does, can I steal her blood? They say there is power in king's blood.

[Greekbro33 105]

Gray would done his cloak, re-adjusting his gear perfectly how he likes it, taking a moment to look at his newly blessed shield before sliding it up his arm until he hears the familiar click as it pops into place. a small sigh would echo around his mask before he looks to the sky

 

"That is certainly a talent.. maybe its time I learned something to better help people"

 

With that he pulls his cloak around him and flips his mask over his head, walking into the cold night to protect the citizens of Sutica once more, in the endless fight this world brings them.

 

[Neverstar 24]

This rp is on a whole other level

[LadyRebecca 1050]

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