The Pale Knight

[Ztrog 1031]

[This is not publicly known so please don't metagame]

 

Spoiler

 

Alex had been without her eyes for quite some time now, days, weeks, months? It had all started to blur together for her, not as the thought of anything being blurred could do her much good in her state. The imagery of the violent orange flames cascading out from her attacker's ring still plagued her find, the burns keeping her from seeing still very much present across her face that was often hidden beneath a blindfold. Her dreams for some time have begun to haunt her, what was taken from her, her vision while it gave her some peace she felt isolated, sealed off from the world. Her dreams took her around the places she remember vividly before she lost her sight, usually ending with her waking in a cold sweat. 

 

One night in her state of ever-spiraling dreams something was different. She could see the cold night of Reinmar, the docks of Haense not too far in the distance, sitting at the shoreline as she had dreamt of often since she lost her vision. The sound of crunching dirt echoes about in her head, almost thunderous among the silent landscape. In the dark lands of Reinmar, the woman's vision flicks about until it would land upon a lone figure not but feet away from her. The being was clad in silvered armor head to tone, gleaming within the moonlight. Upon the chest of the knight would be a Lorraine cross. 

 

Alex rises to a stand, her vision locked on the pale knight, her vision not leaving his visage, unable to look elsewhere. Slowly the pale knight approached Alex, and a flurry of whispering voices filled her ears as he grew closer. “Take it, take it, take it, let God help you” The voices chanted in a choir within her mind, the knight raising a hand, ever so silent as he plucks the Lorraine cross from around his neck. The stoic figure would hold it out towards Alexandra by its Ferrum chain, his form still as he holds the holy sigil. 

 

Alex hesitate her vision still locked onto the still knight like he was a frozen statue, a monument of pious deeds of the past. Slowly Alex moved forward, boots crunching the dirt underfoot, the sounds echoing into the silent night air. She lifts a hand, hesitating with pursed lips. The pale knight cranes its head, the helmet locked solely on the woman, the cross still outstretched. “Ich…Ich vill accept Godan’s grace.” She utters out, Alex moves her arm forward taking hold of the cross, taking it from the grasp of the pale knight. The sound of gonging church bells floods her ears, looking as the knight vanishes from sight within a cloud of white feathers. The woman would jolt, sitting upright in her bed sweat pouring down her clammy face. She holds a hand to her face, as she shudders, awoken by that vivid dream.