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Post by rosallora on Feb 24, 2020 11:07:34 GMT -8
She forces her tongue to wet her lips, willing herself to speak. "I know this does not make up for what I did wrong. But I did head out and I did do well... the Light touched me." Even as she says it her faith that it had ever happened faded in her. Had she really been glowing with Holy Light, or was it all delusion brought on by the feeling of bravery she felt? That by protecting Roard she was somehow as strong as him, or Ser Roland? That she was worthy of it?
Her heart continues to live in her stomach. She can hardly bear his gaze, but she wills herself to hold it. "I did what was right," she states. Toustain wishes she could assure herself that she was worthy of the task even being considered. She had to be sure: how else could she convince him? "I'm grateful for everything you have done. The books. The lesson. What you have offered." Not as much offered now so much as commanded. "I want to be strong. But I know wanting isn't enough." She had just run from Grace because she was afraid of her wrath. Another sign of her lack of will.
She was so weak, compared to the rest of them. And not merely in physical strength. "I have studied. I will work hard. I will fight. I... I wish for your forgiveness. But I feel you will not give it to me for a long while yet." She doesn't know exactly when this had gotten its hooks so deeply into her, but disgracing him abhorred her. When had this happened? Her brow creases. He was taking her under his wing instead of abandoning her. From that, the true question rises.
"You haven't merely cast me aside. As... the others did. As I likely deserve. Why?"
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Post by Boo Ghostie on Feb 24, 2020 12:30:28 GMT -8
Roland remained still, methodically oiling his fusil before putting it aside to attend to his pistol. He was simply an open ear, hearing her spiel with quiet contemplation. These words meant little to him, for he only wished to develop her own courage. No input, only his presence.
It wasn't until she finally asked him a question. Something that seemed all too trivial in his mind. "Because you are no priest here. You are a soldier. A soldier can be trained, can improve, can become proper. No matter how shoddy they may be. You wear armor, you bear arms, and you stand against our enemy. Therefore you are a soldier."
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Post by rosallora on Feb 24, 2020 12:35:42 GMT -8
Was it so simple to him? She was a soldier and was to be trained, then, regardless of past transgression? She sees him cleaning and goes back to the sabaton, beginning her process anew. She nods. "I understand."
No, she was not special. He did not see something in her, he did not even say he believed in her. That the Light chose her, or glowed in her... no. She was a soldier and therefore she would receive the training he could give. And it was so straightforward that she didn't know if she was grateful or... or? What other feeling could possibly exist, other than overflowing thankfulness? But she didn't feel that. She felt something aching and hollow feeling instead. A symptom of being proud, she thinks. Be content with the great gift he has given you, and think not of what he hasn't.
She polishes in quiet, moving mechanically beside him.
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Post by Boo Ghostie on Feb 24, 2020 12:55:43 GMT -8
"Hmph. Soon enough they will be singing of tales of your future heroism. Despite the reality of battle. Only then will I know how well I have taught you." Roland mused, "I can already hear Flynn."
He went through the same motions he had done with his fusil with his pistol. An audible click and a nod of confirmation. Before setting it aside. He plucked what appeared to be a small censor, holding it over a candle to ignite the incense. Roland soon hovered the burning censor over his equipment. Opening his mouth to recite a prayer. Only to look to Toustain,
"Would you bless my equipment, sister?"
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Post by rosallora on Feb 24, 2020 13:06:15 GMT -8
She smiles despite herself when he starts talking of tales of heroism. She can't imagine being the subject of song or story, but she feels that he may be trying to cheer her up in some small way, so she doesn't complain, and doesn't try to hide it nearly as much as she might around another. She polishes the sabaton until he asks for her words - was this an act of forgiveness? - and looks to his things.
"May the Light, may the burn of vengeance and holy righteousness, engulf these tools of a man of war. May his sword by true, may his shot be straight, may his iron be tested but unbroken, and his will unbowed. If he will be forged again in the heat of battle, may he be tempered by blood. May anger yield to his mind but his thoughts not hinder his blade. May he be as sharp as he sharpens his steel, may he return home as the torch is carried back to the hearth. As Vesta awaits his return, so Apelion sends him as a ray of sun to the field. May both watch, and may both witness his burning, a Light against darkness. In the Goddess' name, and as a vessel of her will, I ask this, and so let it be done."
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Post by relentless on Feb 25, 2020 14:47:07 GMT -8
~The Guild Hall~
/Harina Derom - Judge of Apelion/
The door to the Guild hall would creak and shiver, as light as a feather as it was pushed open, and then, gravity played it's part in guiding it back into place with a metallic click.
In the atmosphere of audio, the click of what could be perceived as sanded sandals would be heard, echoing within the cut stone and mortar walls of the Guild Hall, until its echo was halted beside the training areas doors. They were pulled up, the figure not yet entered, till a single step was placed inside. A red robe, ordained in religious patterns, and as the figure stepped further inside, they would be rather noticable to the two. Bedecked in what could be described as battle pilgrim equipment, the Vestal appeared to be heavily equipped with that of lamellar plate trailing down the robe, along with thick, plated pauldrons. The striking, bronze mace finished with filaments of obsidian upon the edges of this morningstar/flanged mace creation, hung from the robes sash, along with what seemed to be an aged, almost ancient metallic mask, depicting that of a 'skull' of sorts, followed with a crown of thorns surrounding the top of it.
The white haired Judge, Harina, laid their eyes on the training area, eventually spotting Roland, passing a brief glance and nod to them. Though... the glance would soon follow as the woman raised their head, to the other Vestal, where the glance also seemed to last slightly longer, before they'd turn away, moving toward a bench of familiar distance to the pair. She'd withdraw their book of passages regarding the Apelion Faith, reading through the verses another hundredth time, to familiarize herself, before they would set about striking a dummy to practice their flourish of swings.
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Post by Boo Ghostie on Feb 25, 2020 15:25:05 GMT -8
"Remember your shame, Sister." Roland muttered as Toustain ended her prayer. "It is something that will be refined and tempered. But never forgotten. From shame comes retribution. That will be the sword used to smite our enemies. Only then shall you find forgiveness. Such is the way of Tenebris Penitentia. Even now, I still seek forgiveness in the Light."
He lowered the censor, grabbing the burning incense with his right hand. Snuffing out the flame with nothing but a tight grip and unwavering resolve. Roland remained stoic, for a life of penance doused out the grievances of pain. The shape of the censor left behind its mark with scorched skin. Before laying it down on the table. "You still have use to the Light, Sister. That is why you are still here. You may leave to recover your wounds. Study the manuals. And upon my return we shall continue your training."
The penitent knight returned to his preparation. Nodding at Toustain as a silent farewell. Drawing out a musket ball from its pouch so he may begin etching the icon of the Holy Flame upon its center. Placing it to the side. An action that he would continue to repeat. His eyes glancing up to the waiting Harina. Beckoning her over with a simple nudge of his head.
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Post by rosallora on Feb 25, 2020 15:57:35 GMT -8
"Yes sir," she says, eyes still locked on the woman who had walked in. Harina. Harina, stronger than her, more faithful than her, better than her in every respect. "I will... I will go to that work," she says, but her voice doesn't escape a small amount of trembling. Fearing any other contact with the sister, she steps back, keeping her front facing Roland and her. She doesn't retreat quickly, not wanting to look more like a coward than she was. Harina had not nodded to her as she had to Roland. She was nothing. Worse than nothing.
"Sir. Sister." Her voice rasps and she nods deeply, before hurrying towards the door.
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Post by relentless on Feb 25, 2020 16:03:32 GMT -8
/Harina/
The woman upon the bench flicked through the pages at a slow rate, though as the scurrying of Toast upon the stone alerted her, she did pass a brief glance, looking to her book as she was moving away, before sighing loudly, head raising up.
"Sister... you're hurt."
The judge noted without looking in the direction of the vestal.
"Come hither, Toustain the Kind."
Harina said aloud, passing a roll of the eyes to roland as she continued to flick through the pages, scanning through the scripture briefly.
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Post by rosallora on Feb 25, 2020 16:32:51 GMT -8
She freezes in her tracks at her title of Sister, then turns, confused, when she says she's hurt. Yes... she had been. She looks down, a slight bit of red showing through the brown robe. Maybe a little bit of Grace's healing had come undone. Or perhaps she just knew because she wasn't in anywhere near her usual vestments.
But she obeys. She walks forward, and, wanting to believe the title wasn't a barb, tried to accept it. Kind. Could she not believe the sister believed her kind?
And yet it takes a small eternity to stand before her, it seemed. "It... it was only something small, sister. I ventured out again and was bloodied. Sister Grace healed me, I was out for some fresh air when I thought to come in here. Then I saw Ser Roland, and..." she clamps her jaw shut. She shouldn't be speaking to her as an equal, not after what happened in that forsaken town. Her hands press together in front of her, fingers twisting slightly. "I'm not nearly as hurt as I was." The slice had been excruciating.
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Post by relentless on Feb 25, 2020 16:52:26 GMT -8
/Harina/
They let the mouse rattle on about their transgressions, and when they were done, they turned the page with the wisp of the paper folding in on itself.
"The light can heal but it cannot heal all in one consecration, thus multiple prayers must be applied to... fully repair a mortal wound..."
Harina mused, resting their palm upon the scripture,breathing quietly through the nose.
"I come not to heal your mortal wounds, but your conscious. Not with faith, not with light,but with explanation. Sit. We must talk."
The judge knocked on the side of the bench beside her, hand slipping down to read over idly the scripture that was held in the parchment as she waited.
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Post by rosallora on Feb 25, 2020 17:16:01 GMT -8
She feels like she's been caught in a trap. Baited with a kind word and then ensnared, her heart starting to pick up its pace in her chest. She's led to sit and she does, knees together and eyes looking at them as if they had some inscrutable, important meaning. Toustain doesn't dare look anywhere else. She'd already been shamed by Ser Roland - would she do it again, in front of him? Tell him of her cowardice firsthand?
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Post by relentless on Feb 25, 2020 17:35:31 GMT -8
/Harina/
The vestal smoothest through the pages of their scripture, looking over the scripture in idleness. Eventually the woman would speak, not really shedding a glance to the other vestal.
"... Cowardice, in it's own right, acts as a human element. Not one of sin, but not one of faith either. It is simply... human weakness. I understand."
Harina paused, they shed a brief flicker of a smile, a slight curl and glint in the eye.
"Back in my youth within the camps of the crusade, there was many a time where my cowardice had gotten the better of me. Mind that I was... young. Unaware of the wrongs of the world, and so, naturally I was repulsed by them."
The smile eventually fades to a flat line as their neutrality returns, they close their book slightly as they state off into the distance, almost blankly.
"Weakness is to be detested. It is to be plucked from the Earth and cast into the flames of the sun. I do not look upon you as traitor, nor as a valued companion like the fellow knight across the room, who baths in penance as the sun rises and falls. You're unfamiliar... with..."
Finally the judge would say their head toward the woman, eyes squinted not out of disgust, but searching the woman. Although they admit that the woman had committed a disgraceful act of desertion,some things could be understood. Various sects within any type of religion, be it old or new have their differences. Harina just believes their sect to be the best.
"... With resolve. Though if you've the mane to persist, to keep rising, despite transgressions... you will grow. Not all warriors are born pure and righteous. Trial and error plays many a part in the development of ones virtues, ones motive to pursue something greater than themselves. Forget that... act, that you committed, many moons ago. You're young, like me, but virgin to the art of war, and as a result, I can sense your will has not yet been tempered by the forces of the First Sin. A lucky diversion-"
Their head turns away, book opening as their babbling of what could only be perceived as advise, is given.
"Yet it is something that you have to face eventually. Which is why you're here. And to survive... you must adapt, not in terms of faith, but... as a soldier like Roland would say, it's a matter of critical thinking. To adapt, and take control."
Harina nods to themselves, before they flick another page, they'd lean to the lect partially with eyes locked on the book.
"Questions?"
They idly inquire, returning to a straight posture.
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Post by rosallora on Feb 25, 2020 17:44:26 GMT -8
"No, no Sister." She dares not look her in the eye, choosing instead to look at the scripture that she held.
Toast processed what she had said. She was not.. forgiven. But her act of cowardice was considered to be in the past - would the nightmares stop, then? Was this absolution, or something close enough to it that she could finally forgive herself for what had happened? Harina seemed to dissect her, to look right through her. She was holy, she must be. For her eyes had a piercing flame in them that not even Roland could compare to.
"Ser Roland has instructed me to keep to my manuals. And when he returns, then we will train again, and I will go out on his behest." She feels more like a child saying that than she wishes. She wasn't, but somehow this had fallen into place the way that it had, with her toeing at the dirt on the ground with her hands in her lap, and the other two looking and seeming and talking like the authority figures that they were.
"You are here to train," she says, looking at her, at him. "May I watch?" A demonstration perhaps would. Help. And at very least it'd make them both see that she had a desire to improve.
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Post by relentless on Feb 25, 2020 18:25:51 GMT -8
The woman chuckles seemingly as the woman inquires, they cleanly return to their usual demeanor, turning toward the woman as they shake their head at them.
"Training can never prepare you for battle if you're a newborn to real battle. Experience is key. Me and Ser Roland have decided to venture outward once we have gathered enough people, to sever the head from the aforementioned 'Swine prince.' Perhaps an intense introductory to such evil will help bolster you to newer heights?"
They remark in a somewhat innocent yet teasing manner at the young vestal, where they aim to stand as they give the woman a light kick on their boot.
"Come, Toustain, if you've the heart for battle I'll take you with me to better yourself, and remove the weakness from your human soul. Ser Roland! Rise, we do mock battle!"
The judge talks loud over to Roland, hand fishing underneath the sili rope, where they'd place it under their wrist and bind it, the grip of their mace was taken loosely as they waggle it.
"If a battle pilgrim is to defeat you, Ser Roland, it would look as if your order of penance has done your fighting capabilities... little justice... hmph."
They mock in a playful yet taunting manner as they enter the fenced off sparring ring, bound by wooden fences with the surface fashioned out of soft straw and cushioned with palpable sand.
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