Private Roleplay  a little faith
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Zaniah He/him
Posts: 5
Pronouns: He/him
Played By: Frost

All Accounts Posts: 218

There was a part of this unusual forest that he found himself fond of. It was unlike anything he had seen in his homeland, but there was a willow tree that towered above the other ash trees that surrounded it. He basked beneath it's pale green leaves in the morning sun, and hid in the space beneath it's roots when the light began to fade. It was a peaceful existence, at least, and he rarely had visitors here.

It was no thanks to his 'Goddess'.

Mother Moon's guidance had led him to a near-demise, drowning her child within filthy, muddy water. His nocturnal habits that he was raised on were quickly abandoned once he had awoken, washed up on some beach with the warm rays of sun upon his face. He had wanted time to think, time to consider what his next step was now. He couldn't return to his family, not after abandoning them the way he had.

(Maybe they think Mother Moon has sent you to join the rest of your litter, sweet lunar child).

Strange things were happening during the nights he slept. Weird, deformed corpses of creatures he couldn't comprehend turned up in the forest. Sometimes he awoke in the darkness of his den to horrifying screams and screeches that had echoed to him from somewhere deep within the ash trees.

Today, blood stained the river he frequented and pieces of decaying flesh floated downstream. The corpse it came from had become caught between two boulders that sat in the middle of the river, water flowing around and over it. Zaniah had never seen a horse before, but that wasn't what worried him.

The fact that it seemed to be nearly torn in half was what worried him.

A new scent reached him, and he turned to see a woman approach.

"You should leave before night falls."

A Goddess is angry, it seems.

Filianore She
The Maid of Orléans
Posts: 30
Pronouns: She
Rank [IC]: The Apostle

All Accounts Posts: 535

[Image: why_do_i_always_s_p_i_l_l_by_t_e_r_r_i_f...ao9p5g.png]

[Image: 5226420_2X57AvSlmhDDeRu.gif]

It wasn't uncommon for Filianore to leave the den, often she did it to recite her hymns and sift through her thoughts. Her boy safely tucked by the Knight's side, she had no need to fear then. Templar would protect him, but not on his own. Their Lord was with them as well.

She clung to that safety net still, even after the collapse of Borogrove, even after she faith had been tested time and time again. It would not waver, she was and would always be devoted to the religion that saved her and gave her new purpose. From this day to her last.

But it was with a furrowed brow and an unreadable, yet warm expression did she find her self looking upon a sun touched figure. Fur, glinting in the afternoon light as it caught his golden coat, shimmering with each strand of fur. He turned to her then, but she remained silent, regarding her with only a warning. Fear the night? Head would turn and the redness of the water took her only slightly by surprise.

Jaw tensing, tired eyes would look back upon the stranger's golden furred form. "I do not fear the night, nor the dark it brings." The Apostle's voice was quiet against the loud trickling of running water. "Not when He is with me." The Lord was the brightest light she'd ever known, and his signs were all around her, constantly guiding her. Like a hidden friend, he was always there. Watching, protecting.

The wolfdog took a tentative step forward, catching drifting flesh out the corner of her eye. "You've a reason to fear the dark?" Came her soft words, stopping once she caught sight of a half bloated corpse. She knew hellhounds and all the like, but had never seen a creature like this, half submerged, eyes milky white and dripping, fangs, a face of a demon rather than a horse. A beast like no other.

Stopping slightly closer to the golden male, she'd bow her head in prayer, words clear and quiet. "Oh gracious be our Lord, oh holy avenger, gallant protector. Thine divine will is thine own, and with thine hands cast this poor accursed beast away, purify these waters. Heal thine earthly wound so that no demon shall walk before thee. Blessed be it's resting place, maketh this place desecrated grave pure once more, reborn to hallowed ground." Pausing, warm sunlight clinging to her back. "Amen." Pale, tired eyes would glance upward as a boulder shifted against the water and the corpse was let lose to drift down the river. "Praise be to thee, great Lord."

Once, I can't remember
I was, long ago, someone strange
I was innocent and wise
And full of pain
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