Post by Velania Kalugina on Mar 1, 2023 9:37:14 GMT
Takes place between The Butcher of Bloody Creek and A Knight's Purpose
Written with the beloved and magnificent disaster-child Zola Rhomdaen 💚🤍
Temple of Selûne, Daring Heights
The sound of sabatons stepping on marble echoes around the empty temple chamber. Zola steps before the altar in the centre of the circular room, outfitted in sterling silver armour, the thumb of her right hand hooked into a belt carrying The Twins, now in brand-new scabbards. The silver of the armour is matched by the silver half-mask that rests on the left side of her face, around a moonstone gem inside her eye socket.
She fixes her one-eyed stare at the reliefs of the Moonmaiden’s various forms behind the altar, dead silent.
A few minutes later, a familiar, quiet gait whispers softly through the temple. Velania enters, her gaze focused on the scrolls she is carrying to the altar. The shimmer of candlelight plays off her robes, catching the silver embroidered flowers on the hem of her cowl.
She notices the figure standing before the altar, and glances once, twice, before her green eyes widen in surprise. “Sister…” she utters. “You… I…” She sets down the scrolls hurriedly and steps toward Zola with her arms outstretched to embrace her.
Zola’s gaze instinctively snaps up towards Velania the second she senses the aasimar’s presence on the periphery of her vision. The battle-ready look in her amber eye melts away quickly as soon as she realises who it is beneath the cowl, and accepts her embrace. “Velania...”
Velania holds her warmly, then steps back and regards her… almost cautiously. Of the thousand questions that fly through her head at once, the one that reaches her lips is unexpectedly simple. “Are you hungry? I have some soup on the stove.”
“Sounds good.” Zola smiles at her, but it doesn’t look like her old smile. It is crooked to the right, as if the muscles on the left side of her face aren’t moving.
“Good. Then come this way.” Velania smiles tightly and leads her through to the back of the temple. She opens the door to her chambers. “Make yourself comfortable,” she says, gesturing to Zola’s armour. “I’ll help with that if you like. I’ll just be in the kitchens a moment.”
“I’m… fine. If you don’t mind.”
Velania nods carefully, then sweeps out of the room. Shortly, she returns with a tray of supper. The warm, dark caramel scent of roasted vegetable soup fills the room, and she sets down bowls and bread, with small carafes of wine and water. She serves Zola and sits across from her at the small table. In front of Zola, she places a regular soup spoon, but also a much smaller teaspoon.
“Thank you...” Zola glances curiously at the smaller spoon. “Are we having dessert, too?”
“I have fruit. That’s for the soup. I just didn’t know which you’d prefer…”
“Oh, you don’t have to worry about that, Vee, I’m not some fancy noblewoman who demands a different spoon for each type of meal.” She picks up the soup spoon and starts eating. “This is good. Thanks again.”
Velania exhales, relieved. “There was an elder in my village who suffered a bad back injury when she was very young. She lost a lot of mobility, and ate with only a teaspoon…” She sips her watered wine for a moment, then sets it down loudly. “Zola, what in the Maiden’s name happened? Are you alright?” Her voice is exaggeratedly firm, as if she is reluctant to let another emotion creep in.
Zola looks up at Velania with a surprised look in her eye. “Yes, my injuries are healed now, sister,” she replies with equal firmness. “You shouldn’t worry about me. As for what happened... I don’t think I’m allowed to say... Aurelia’s orders. Sorry.”
Velania tuts, and her eyes roll exaggeratedly. “Don’t worry? Tell that to someone else, Zola.” She stops herself before continuing, more calmly. “I understand; I won’t pry. But can you at least answer me this: whoever did this to you… are they… did you… is it over?”
“Yes. It’s dead. It’s settled.”
Velania studies Zola. Eventually accepts her answer and nods. “Lord Jaezred said you were going to your mothers to be looked after. It’s the kind of healing magic I only wish I could get to grips with…” Her face softens. “Moonstone is a good choice.” She leans forward and places her hand over Zola’s. “And the mask is beautiful, sister.”
Zola gives her that crooked smile again. “Thank you. I asked Lord Jaezred to find me the best elven silversmith he knows and a moonstone that can fit into my eye socket. He took me to Waterdeep to have a mould of my face created. Have you ever been to Waterdeep? It’s so large, much bigger than Daring Heights.”
“The wonders of portal travel! I passed through the slow way – on foot, on the road that eventually led me to the Dawnlands. Did you like the size of it? I found it a little daunting. A beautiful place full of wealth and magic and peoples from all civilisations… but also a lot of politics, and some very high and mighty people.”
“I didn’t stay long enough to find out, unfortunately. Maybe someday, I’ll come back...”
The priestess half-shrugs. “I am sure it’s worth staying longer. At the time, I found it overwhelming – the first time I’d been in such a metropolis of a city! Perhaps I should give it another go one day. We could even go together, maybe?”
“I would love that.”
“Can I ask, Zola… you’ve come to the temple in full dress.” She gestures to the shining silver armour. “Either you are going somewhere smart and special, or you are dressed like you’re off to war or something.” She chuckles nervously. “I hope it’s the former. Please tell me it’s the former…”
“I’m not off to war or to any sort of crusade. Although, Marto asked me to accompany him to a knightly tournament just now. This... This is just who I am now.”
As Zola says that, one thing becomes crystal clear to Velania. After returning from Phlegethos, the warrior always displayed a deadly calm whenever she was about to fight, in stark contrast to her usual cheerful, whimsical demeanour outside of battle. But now, she is wearing a mantle of calmness – the melodic timbre of her voice is tempered by a foreboding evenness that Velania has rarely heard before today.
With increasing certainty, Velania knows she is reading a different woman sitting before her. Every time Zola says something to reassure her that she’s fine, that everything is alright, it rings like a low, solemn bell over Velania. She nods with a pensive expression. She fights to keep the hollowness out of her voice. “You’re meeting Marto?” Velania looks at her hopefully. “How is he?”
“He seems fine. I think, anyway. He was mostly surprised to see me so I didn’t get much of a read on him. But I get the sense that he’s excited for this tournament.”
Velania smiles gently. “He came by a few weeks ago. He looked well. Tell him I wish him luck for the tournament.” She raises her cup to Zola. “And good luck to you too.”
“Oh no, I won’t be participating, just gonna be there as a retainer... But thank you.” She clinks her glass against Velania’s and smiles sadly at her. “Velania, I do feel bad that you keep worrying about me...”
Velania chuckles sheepishly and looks down at the tablecloth. “I know you’re very good at looking after yourself. And you’ve been doing it for long enough. But that’s what love is, Zola…” She looks up at the warrior with a resigned shrug. “I think I’ll always find it hard not to worry about you.”
Zola sighs and pulls Velania into a tight embrace.
Velania holds her with warmth and sighs steadily. When they release one another, she sits and looks at her hands, obviously taking her time to put something into words. “I spoke to Je’Sathriel recently. I told him it’s time to visit my… to visit Sachrael.”
Zola raises her brows. “You think it’s time? Are you ready for it?”
“Yes. And no. I think it’s long past the time when I should have done this. But I’m dreading it. I think I’ve been putting it off far too long. So he told me he’d fetch me in a tenday’s time. From Fort Ettin.” She huffs. “I guess that means I can’t put it off any longer.”
“Well... It’s best to get it over with as quickly as possible, I suppose, or else you’ll be left wondering forever.” She squeezes the aasimar’s hands. “I’ll be there, Velania, as I promised. And if he’s a dickhead towards you... well, I don’t want to say that I’ll kick his arse, but...”
“You’re right, I think I do have to find out. Much as I would rather hide from it. But I can’t hide away in this temple forever…” Velania squeezes Zola’s hands back. “I’m glad you’ll be there. I’m going to need it.”
Velania meets her guardian angel in All This and Heaven Too
Written with the beloved and magnificent disaster-child Zola Rhomdaen 💚🤍
Temple of Selûne, Daring Heights
The sound of sabatons stepping on marble echoes around the empty temple chamber. Zola steps before the altar in the centre of the circular room, outfitted in sterling silver armour, the thumb of her right hand hooked into a belt carrying The Twins, now in brand-new scabbards. The silver of the armour is matched by the silver half-mask that rests on the left side of her face, around a moonstone gem inside her eye socket.
She fixes her one-eyed stare at the reliefs of the Moonmaiden’s various forms behind the altar, dead silent.
A few minutes later, a familiar, quiet gait whispers softly through the temple. Velania enters, her gaze focused on the scrolls she is carrying to the altar. The shimmer of candlelight plays off her robes, catching the silver embroidered flowers on the hem of her cowl.
She notices the figure standing before the altar, and glances once, twice, before her green eyes widen in surprise. “Sister…” she utters. “You… I…” She sets down the scrolls hurriedly and steps toward Zola with her arms outstretched to embrace her.
Zola’s gaze instinctively snaps up towards Velania the second she senses the aasimar’s presence on the periphery of her vision. The battle-ready look in her amber eye melts away quickly as soon as she realises who it is beneath the cowl, and accepts her embrace. “Velania...”
Velania holds her warmly, then steps back and regards her… almost cautiously. Of the thousand questions that fly through her head at once, the one that reaches her lips is unexpectedly simple. “Are you hungry? I have some soup on the stove.”
“Sounds good.” Zola smiles at her, but it doesn’t look like her old smile. It is crooked to the right, as if the muscles on the left side of her face aren’t moving.
“Good. Then come this way.” Velania smiles tightly and leads her through to the back of the temple. She opens the door to her chambers. “Make yourself comfortable,” she says, gesturing to Zola’s armour. “I’ll help with that if you like. I’ll just be in the kitchens a moment.”
“I’m… fine. If you don’t mind.”
Velania nods carefully, then sweeps out of the room. Shortly, she returns with a tray of supper. The warm, dark caramel scent of roasted vegetable soup fills the room, and she sets down bowls and bread, with small carafes of wine and water. She serves Zola and sits across from her at the small table. In front of Zola, she places a regular soup spoon, but also a much smaller teaspoon.
“Thank you...” Zola glances curiously at the smaller spoon. “Are we having dessert, too?”
“I have fruit. That’s for the soup. I just didn’t know which you’d prefer…”
“Oh, you don’t have to worry about that, Vee, I’m not some fancy noblewoman who demands a different spoon for each type of meal.” She picks up the soup spoon and starts eating. “This is good. Thanks again.”
Velania exhales, relieved. “There was an elder in my village who suffered a bad back injury when she was very young. She lost a lot of mobility, and ate with only a teaspoon…” She sips her watered wine for a moment, then sets it down loudly. “Zola, what in the Maiden’s name happened? Are you alright?” Her voice is exaggeratedly firm, as if she is reluctant to let another emotion creep in.
Zola looks up at Velania with a surprised look in her eye. “Yes, my injuries are healed now, sister,” she replies with equal firmness. “You shouldn’t worry about me. As for what happened... I don’t think I’m allowed to say... Aurelia’s orders. Sorry.”
Velania tuts, and her eyes roll exaggeratedly. “Don’t worry? Tell that to someone else, Zola.” She stops herself before continuing, more calmly. “I understand; I won’t pry. But can you at least answer me this: whoever did this to you… are they… did you… is it over?”
“Yes. It’s dead. It’s settled.”
Velania studies Zola. Eventually accepts her answer and nods. “Lord Jaezred said you were going to your mothers to be looked after. It’s the kind of healing magic I only wish I could get to grips with…” Her face softens. “Moonstone is a good choice.” She leans forward and places her hand over Zola’s. “And the mask is beautiful, sister.”
Zola gives her that crooked smile again. “Thank you. I asked Lord Jaezred to find me the best elven silversmith he knows and a moonstone that can fit into my eye socket. He took me to Waterdeep to have a mould of my face created. Have you ever been to Waterdeep? It’s so large, much bigger than Daring Heights.”
“The wonders of portal travel! I passed through the slow way – on foot, on the road that eventually led me to the Dawnlands. Did you like the size of it? I found it a little daunting. A beautiful place full of wealth and magic and peoples from all civilisations… but also a lot of politics, and some very high and mighty people.”
“I didn’t stay long enough to find out, unfortunately. Maybe someday, I’ll come back...”
The priestess half-shrugs. “I am sure it’s worth staying longer. At the time, I found it overwhelming – the first time I’d been in such a metropolis of a city! Perhaps I should give it another go one day. We could even go together, maybe?”
“I would love that.”
“Can I ask, Zola… you’ve come to the temple in full dress.” She gestures to the shining silver armour. “Either you are going somewhere smart and special, or you are dressed like you’re off to war or something.” She chuckles nervously. “I hope it’s the former. Please tell me it’s the former…”
“I’m not off to war or to any sort of crusade. Although, Marto asked me to accompany him to a knightly tournament just now. This... This is just who I am now.”
As Zola says that, one thing becomes crystal clear to Velania. After returning from Phlegethos, the warrior always displayed a deadly calm whenever she was about to fight, in stark contrast to her usual cheerful, whimsical demeanour outside of battle. But now, she is wearing a mantle of calmness – the melodic timbre of her voice is tempered by a foreboding evenness that Velania has rarely heard before today.
With increasing certainty, Velania knows she is reading a different woman sitting before her. Every time Zola says something to reassure her that she’s fine, that everything is alright, it rings like a low, solemn bell over Velania. She nods with a pensive expression. She fights to keep the hollowness out of her voice. “You’re meeting Marto?” Velania looks at her hopefully. “How is he?”
“He seems fine. I think, anyway. He was mostly surprised to see me so I didn’t get much of a read on him. But I get the sense that he’s excited for this tournament.”
Velania smiles gently. “He came by a few weeks ago. He looked well. Tell him I wish him luck for the tournament.” She raises her cup to Zola. “And good luck to you too.”
“Oh no, I won’t be participating, just gonna be there as a retainer... But thank you.” She clinks her glass against Velania’s and smiles sadly at her. “Velania, I do feel bad that you keep worrying about me...”
Velania chuckles sheepishly and looks down at the tablecloth. “I know you’re very good at looking after yourself. And you’ve been doing it for long enough. But that’s what love is, Zola…” She looks up at the warrior with a resigned shrug. “I think I’ll always find it hard not to worry about you.”
Zola sighs and pulls Velania into a tight embrace.
Velania holds her with warmth and sighs steadily. When they release one another, she sits and looks at her hands, obviously taking her time to put something into words. “I spoke to Je’Sathriel recently. I told him it’s time to visit my… to visit Sachrael.”
Zola raises her brows. “You think it’s time? Are you ready for it?”
“Yes. And no. I think it’s long past the time when I should have done this. But I’m dreading it. I think I’ve been putting it off far too long. So he told me he’d fetch me in a tenday’s time. From Fort Ettin.” She huffs. “I guess that means I can’t put it off any longer.”
“Well... It’s best to get it over with as quickly as possible, I suppose, or else you’ll be left wondering forever.” She squeezes the aasimar’s hands. “I’ll be there, Velania, as I promised. And if he’s a dickhead towards you... well, I don’t want to say that I’ll kick his arse, but...”
“You’re right, I think I do have to find out. Much as I would rather hide from it. But I can’t hide away in this temple forever…” Velania squeezes Zola’s hands back. “I’m glad you’ll be there. I’m going to need it.”
Velania meets her guardian angel in All This and Heaven Too
