Death's War

It hasn't been very long since Silmeria and Verna have returned from their time at the Caracorothan camp. While there wasn't terribly much Silmeria could do to preserve the body, a couple days won't cause enough damage to be concerned about, and immediately upon reporting in, the Speaker ensured that the clergy would seek permission from both Verna and their goddess to revive her. A more cynical mind would joke about Vardama providing a free pocket-pie next time, but Silmeria has been at this long enough to know that even a short death is *awful* for a loved one.

Before even seeking treatment for her injuries, she sent for Auranar, feeling the news would be best delivered by the firsthand witness, if not the actual reason for the immediate cause of death.

Thus, when Auranar arrives, she'll be guided to a small nook in the Archives to a reading table covered in cloth, with a soothing tea waiting to be poured.

And at the other end of the table, a bedraggled, scuffed, and slightly desiccated-looking Inquisitor, her gentle features haggard with exhaustion.

It's not hard to tell from looking at Auranar that she's filled with hope. She's dressed in the same dress that she met Verna in, a red one with gold trim and her red boots, she's even wearing her red coat in deference to the rain though their home is right across the street from the temple really. An acolyte, the same one that brought her the message to come to the temple, leads her through the temple to the Archives and a small table at which sits a woman she does not recognize.

For just a moment her features fall, a flash of worry replacing the hopeful expression in her dark eyes before she manages to gather herself and join the woman. She curtsies politely to the woman, fingers clasped before her to keep herself from playing with her skirts. "Goodday." She offers the words politely, but she's veritably buzzing with curiosity and concern.

The blonde dips her head, and gestures toward the empty chair. "Good day, Lady Auranar. I am Speaker Silmeria, and I was the one who joined your Verna on her journey." The pause isn't long, but exists, after which she lets out a quiet sigh. "Verna did not survive. Though I have every reason to believe that to be a temporary state... The fact remains. Lady, I am sorry I could not bring her home whole."

Auranar makes it to the chair before the news hits. Though she finds herself stunned enough that it feels like she didn't manage to sit down at all. No, it feels like she's hit the floor. The wild elf can only stare at Silmeria for the longest time, the life draining out of her face as she realizes that Verna is dead. It's easy for Silmeria to say that the death will be a 'temporary state', but Auranar...

"What... what happened? You... Weren't you there to make sure that they didn't hurt her?" Her voice is brittle and edged with emotion that she keeps tightly bottled up by wrapping her arms around herself.

Tea is poured and offered, with the assumption in mind that the small earthenware cup will soon be hurled at speed. There's never an easy way to break the news, and reactions are wide and varied. "Neither of us believed she wouldn't be hurt, Lady," she begins gently. "Werewolves aligned with the Nightmare had begun to force their madness on priest and innocent alike, and Verna agreed to their demands in order to keep them safe. We hoped to learn *why* they wanted her, and I was there explicitly to carry out her wishes. If she deemed the cause just, then she would comply, and I would but bear witness."

Looking down, she turns her cup in her hands. "She did not, my Lady."

Auranar doesn't pick up the cup. She can't let go of herself because she knows if she does everything she's feeling will come pouring out. Not even she knows what might happen then. It's hard though, to sit there and listen and... she just wants to understand. "Did you.... learn why they wanted her? Did they just want to kill her?" The last bit is a harsh bite, emotion leaking out around the edges of her. This woman was supposed to protect Verna! Yet she was here and Verna was... Not.

"Not everything, though I promise you that I will," Silmeria answers, setting her cup aside. "Most... yes. There was a ritual of some sort, a summoning. Their leader claimed that through Verna, he would break an aspect of Caracoroth from His prison. He would let the Nightmare free."

There was a statue of some kind, a twisted person. He ran it through her, but there was no blood..." Silmeria lets out a long, shaky breath. "She fought, Auranar. *I* fought. The moment the word 'No' passed her lips, we fought as hard as we were able. I did everything I could to disrupt the casting, but... Verna knew what would stop it for sure. She entreated the Goddess, and the next two bullets from my gun pierced her heart."

The Speaker's eyes close, then open again, spectacles removed that she may better meet Auranar's eyes. "I'm sorry I couldn't do better for you, My Lady. Everything I could do... It wasn't enough."

It sounds terrible, and she can't imagine how hard Verna's last moments must have been. Trapped like that. Hurt and waiting for something terrible to come of her pain. She closes her eyes. Remembering a time when Verna had spared her and she clutches at her dress for support. It's not nearly enough and Silmeria's words bring her screeching back to the present. "What?" She opens her eyes and the dark orbs are glittering with tears and something darker. "What do you mean? YOU killed her?"

It's not logical, she knows that. Knows that Verna would want to be spared a messy death at the hands of werewolves, but... To think that this woman shot Verna... It doesn't make sense. She bites her lip to keep her thoughts from spilling out, but she's all wound up. Tight like a wire set to go off.

"I did," Silmeria says quietly. "I wasn't shooting at her, but Vardama heard her plea, and sent my bullets elsewhere. Even still, it was my gun, and my hand, that ended her life." Her eyes are steady, but terribly sad, and she does not look away from Auranar. "That's why I sent for you before anything else; because it's only right that *I* be the one to tell you everything that happened."

For a moment, Auranar can't breathe. Can't see. Can't hear. It's like she's gone deaf and dumb to the world aruond her. Words pass through Silmeria's lips but Auranar's just... numb. "What if she doesn't come back?" The words are hollow. Empty. Resounding with withheld emotion. She stares at Silmeria. "You and your goddess killed her and _what if she doesn't come back_?!"

"Then you will be right to hate the both of us," Silmeria answers, "but the reason I don't believe that will happen? You, Lady. You are the reason I believe she'll come back. I can explain, if you wish?"

It's an old, familiar pain that every Vardaman feels, in this moment. Watching someone's world shatter, wanting only to help, but literally being too close to the source to do so easily. Words get precise, tone carefully modulated, and every syllable chosen with the most exquisite care, all for the sake of minimizing further, careless harm. Vardaman so often get accused of being heartless, soulless, but nine times out of ten, the truth is that to dedicate yourself to peace amidst so much pain requires *so much care.*

Of course Verna would come back for her. She's suddenly stairing at the cup of tea she hasn't touched and wishing she could just see Verna already. Take her home and take care of her. Be useful for a change. She could do that much... Auranar shakes her head dumbly, tears slipping down her face finally. "She'll come back. She promised." She blinks and takes a deep breath, looking up and steadying herself. "When... Can I see her?"

"Not just yet," Silmeria says softly. "She's being prepared for the ceremony, and supplies gathered to treat her injuries, after. It's not often done, but... I intend to petition for you to be present when the raising is done, if you'd allow. Typically we keep the affair very private, but... I think it would do the both of you a world of good, to have you be the first thing she sees when she opens her eyes."

The barest hint of a smile tugs at her lips. "And you can keep her from being mobbed by the... keener... acolytes who desperately want to know what the Halls are like."

Auranar nods, and finally picks up the tea. It's a tenuous motion. Her hand shakes as she brings the cup to her lips and takes a sip. "I appreciate that. I... I'd like to be there." She sets the cup down again and tucks her hand back around her middle. She smiles slightly, not really at Silmeria's joke but rather a memory. "She was there for me."

She's having trouble meeting Silmeria's eyes for any length of time, because part of her wants to blame the woman for everything that's gone so wrong. Even though she knows it's not her fault. She finally does though, and what she says surprises her. "This must be hard for you too. To kill someone that you meant to protect. I'm sure... I'm sure Verna understands, and she'll forgive you when she comes back." No thinking that she might not. It's not allowed.

"It is... but it's a familiar kind of hard," Silmeria says quietly, sipping at her tea. "When I'm not making use of my martial training, usually I spend my days in the City, sitting deathwatch. Making sure people dying of something even magic can't cure, aren't alone until they step across." She looses a soft beat of laughter, but it's very sad underneath. "I care for every one of them, Lady Auranar... Every one was a friend, by the time they were ready to go."

She lowers her head, and brushes a curled finger over the bridge of her nose. "I'm sure Verna will say there's nothing to forgive, that she *asked* for Death and was blessed to receive it. But, oh, I expect I shall hurt for a long time, after."

Closing her eyes, she shakes her head, putting on a smile closer to the Sweet Big Sister air that is her default setting. "But no one ever swore service to Death and expected a whole heart, always. And it's *your* comfort that matters to me, in this moment."

Auranar, more than most can understand a Mourner's occupation. She is after all, living with a woman whose occupation is not so different from Silmeria's. Though Verna doesn't often talk about the hardships of her work, Auranar's not insensitive enough to be unaware that they are there. Still, hearing it so bluntly put, is a sadness to her, and she finds that she can no longer be angry with Silmeria at all. She lost someone too, and that kinship binds them together.

"I'll be okay." As long as Verna returns to her, that'll be true. "I... I can't say that I understand really." She looks at the cup on the table and picks it up again. Drinks the tea down until it's gone and puts it back down. Just the little bit of liquid makes her feel more real. More secure in herself.

"I don't understand why they took her in the first place. I'm worried... I'm so worried that she'll choose not to come back because there's still some risk to her being here. But I need her." Auranar looks at Silmeria. "I'd do anything to be able to keep her safe, but what if her being safe means her being..."

Dead.

"I don't know the whole story either," Silmeria admits. "I think that perhaps it's best if the both of us talk to... what was his name, Dolan? From the Daeusite Temple. All I truly know of the why is, it had to do with that statue, and Verna because of some... thing that happened to her, recently. They sought her out, specifically, because of some connection she had with Caracoroth. I expect the plan was to use that connection to sacrifice her and bring the shard of one of the most terrible gods in existence, to our world."

Blowing out a sigh, she sits back in her chair, examining Auranar. "I understand your fear... but... how to put this. The only way to bring a soul back, is if that soul *wants* to be back. If there is something so pressing that peace isn't fully possible. You'd think that would be anathema to the Temple, but... There is nothing more sacred than a peaceful rest. Half of my training revolves around making sure the people that don't have a way back, find peace regardless."

Setting her tea down, she tilts her head, and smiles gently. "And while it may be presumptuous, not having known either of you as well as I'd like... I can't imagine that Verna could have *any* kind of peaceful rest that doesn't include you."

Auranar has the grace to look embarrassed at this last bit, the thoughtfulness on her features not fading. She is after all, a researcher before anything else, and curious bits always get under her skin. She wants to understand. Particularly something that could take Verna away from her - however briefly that may be. "Well then, consider yourself our honored guest, after all this is taken care of, of course." She nods her head to Silmeria. "You Vardaman work so hard..."

She tilts her head suddenly and looks at Silmeria astutely. "Did the werewolves say anything that might indicate that Verna is a... Woman Between Worlds?"

"That was nearly the exact wording used when they came here," Silmeria says, puzzled. "I thought it was something more abstract, having to do with... well... all of this," she says, vaguely waving a hand between them. "But the way you're talking about it, it's much more specific?"

"I don't know." Auranar says looking equally puzzled. "Dolan mentioned it when we were talking that he was looking for a Woman Between Worlds. I told him that I've been doing research and recommended a book to him. Verna _does_ bridge a lot of worlds, but what does that have to do with anything?"

"We shall have to speak to Dolan sooner than later, I think," Silmeria says, replacing her spectacles. "It must be *very* specific then, because only Verna would do for this summoning ritual, no other. And since soon, I expect, Death may find herself in a holy war, it very much behooves us to understand everything we possibly can about the enemy."

-End