More Durís content from yesterday’s session. She’s recovered physically, but mentally and spiritually she has a lot to heal from.
"Upon arriving to the city, a thunderstorm greets the party. It had been raining for a couple of days already, and it made camping on the road back uncomfortable and cold.
Rain had never bothered her much. It was, after all, one of the gifts of her goddess. But now it feels... tainted. Furious. Unwelcome.
The once pleasant smell of moist grass and cobblestones makes her skin crawl.
The thunder doesn't scare her, even when it feels closer and closer with every step they take towards the inn at the outskirts, hoping to stay the night and avoid the worst of the storm.
Her hair rises and, moments later, lighting lands right next to them, the thunder wave almost knocking them off their feet.
Her friends rush inside the safety of the inn.
With a hand on the door, Durís stays outside.
She has seen bad storms in her time at the city, but this one... this one is the worst she can remember since her arrival. From the top of the hill, she can see the waves crashing at the shore of the nearest island. They're high, dangerously so. The damages, once the storm recedes, will be considerable.
And deep down, she knows, it's her fault.
This is the wrath of her goddess, unleashed.
A wrath she knows well. She has wielded it herself, after all.
Now, every raindrop, once cleansing and welcome, feels like a slap. And the storm will no longer hear her commands, nor obey them.
She was furious. Upon awakening at the outside of the tower. She had cursed and cried, and even when her friends had tried to comfort her, the only thing she had felt was an anger that ate her from the inside like poison. Every time, she remembered the terrible feeling of fighting to breathe and stay afloat in an ocean that was swallowing her down. Every moment she remembered the image of her goddess fading away from her as the lights went out.
And, after days of walking with nothing to do but think, she feels mostly empty of everything besides anger, sadness and loss. The hole inside her growing by the minute. It has been such a long time since she felt this lonely, this devastatingly miserable.
She is worthless now. A cleric forsaken by its god is as good as moist paper, and even as a fighter, she is lacking. A couple of decades of leaning into divine magic has made her a sloppy, weak opponent. And without her healing skills, she can no longer grant the safety of her party, or their wellbeing. Stepping down from this mission is the best she can do for them all, given the circumstances.
She can't protect them, and she refuses to become a burden.
She is being punished.
She is alone.
With the definite, deafening sound of the next thunder, and a flash of lightning, Durís turns her back on the storm, and steps inside the inn."
7 notes
·
View notes