Servant of the Coronal
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Lyriel Lyrae
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Have you ever stared into the rain
Thought the clouds would never disappear
Have you ever screamed out into the dark
Thinking no one else could hearD. Goodrem
~ Lyrics of Lament ~
Everything was abruptly silent. She couldn't feel her legs anymore aside from the sudden tremble that ran through them as she collapsed to the mossy ground underneath. Her hand met the green softness and a few digits dug into its spongy texture. The harsh pain shot through her chest with each beat of her heart, spreading viciously as her blood was pumped into her limbs and throughout her lithe frame. The muscles around her eyes shivered uncontrollably and she squeezed her lids shut as hard as she could to make it stop, but it didn't.
Sounds began to flood back into her ears again and she lifted her chin, her dainty hands traveling slowly, hesitantly, up toward her closed eyes. Earthy fingers entwined lightly with each other at her forehead as she began to rock lightly back and forth, sitting on her shins upon the mossy surface. Wailing voices drummed into her head and in response she, too, began to cry aloud, joining the feverish melody of sorrow that clung to the dew-filled morning air.
She let her palms slowly cover her face and hung her head while she continued to rock back and forth, back and forth. The smell of the moss and earth that filled her nostrils, only made the losses worse to her and she pulled her hands down into her lap. Her features were stained, a near unrecognizable canvas of dirt, dried blood and fresh tears. Blood-shot eyes squinted past the salty streams that came from within and gazed around at the situation.
In any direction, there was death, so much death. Not the kind any elf would hope for when transcending to Arvandor, but the kind in which the spirits could not cross over, and would not be allowed to rest and be at peace. She would have to find the High Priest of the Luminous Cloud. She would have to assist in any way she could, but right now … she did not have the strength, and she needed to grieve as so many others around her.
A gentle hand came upon her shoulder and drew closer, wrapping arms around her and holding her still. She broke into another tantrum of tears and sobs as she leaned into the soothing presence. “I know, dear child. I know, but it is now that we must be at our strongest. There will be time for lamenting our loved ones, I promise, but it is not now.”
Lyriel blinked the last of her tears from her silvery-blue eyes. She wasn't at all sure if it was due to the words carried by the soft voice at her back, or if she simply had none left to shed. She slowly turned and found the visage of one of the clergy of the Creator. He drew his hands up to wipe away the streaks of sorrow that traveled down her cheeks and dried her face with his sleeves. “I… I don't know wh-what to do,” she stammered involuntarily and quietly within the chaos and cries that held the air around them.
“Come with me. We will go to the temple and you can help, there is much to be done.”
She nodded faintly and tried to find the strength to pull herself off the ground. The feywarden lent her a strong hand and helped her to her feet, but she felt so numb- both physically and mentally. She was certain had he not come along, she would have sat there forever.
