08-24-2012, 10:50 AM
A man walks through Hearthglen's cathedral, alone save for the lifeless woman in his arms. Her green robe is in tatters, cut and burned in many places, but the damage to her body is old, and unrelated to the trauma that ruined her clothes. Reaching his destination, he places the frail form on the altar at the end of the aisle with the utmost care. Expression solemn but determined, only the trembling in his hands revealed his underlying emotional turmoil. He was going to revive his friend, he had decided. The sister he never had. He had to. For her sake…
For his own.
"Flora... please, don't hate me for doing this... I can't let you die so pitifully, without any closure... I have hope for you."
He positions himself in front of the altar, beginning a reverent but passionate prayer.
"Light... please, I beseech your grace, your goodness... your mercy.
Please, holy Light... let me borrow but a portion of your divinity, as a vessel, to bring back this unfulfilled soul…"
Cristovao steps back, and falls to his knees as he focuses channeling the Light into his body. He begins to emanate a subtle, golden glow. His chin quivers as he struggles to maintain his composure.
""I know the flesh is weak, and her's tainted by Shadow, but please... please.... if there was ever one of her kind who deserves a second chance, it would be her. Please, Light, let her move once more...
let her move once more, so that she may know your warmth again one day! I call out to her soul to return to the flesh and be mended!"
Finally unable to contain his feelings, he weeps, tears staining his Alliance tabard. Nevertheless, he brings hands, now blazing with Holy Light, to the lifeless body before him.
The paladin finishes his prayer, filling the corpse with the radiant energy.
"Light's will.... be done!
Amen!"
He watches the body intently.
The vast stone hall is silent other than his breathing, now labored by his emotion.
Then a twitch.
Christovao takes her clawed, skeletal hand. Urgently, he calls to her. "Flora?!"
Flora 's body begins to shiver slightly, growing into a furious tremble. Her chest rises sharply, heaving frantically. A dim, cerulean ghost light flickers in her empty eye sockets, as her face first registers shock, then contorts into a silent scream as her body emanates with the golden glow of the paladin's prayer.
Christovao retracts his hands, watching in horror. Seeing her like this made him worry. Part of him wondered if this was the right choice.
Flora continues to writhe violently from the Light's potent force, and Christovao again holds her, attempting to hold her down as she kicks and claws blindly at the altar below her. She attempts to speak, but her strained words are voiceless as the physical mechanisms of speech fail her in her undead state. Christovao attempts to stroke her head as she spasms, calling to her.
"Flora, it's me…!"
He flinches as Flora jerks underneath him, but persists in his comforting her. Her eye lights flicker again, then retain a steady, but dim glow. The Holy glow fades from her, and her body falls still, save for a subtle trembling throughout her body. Flora wheezes, chest rising and falling as she breathes futilely. Her head turns limply to one side, staring at Christovao, who is now red faced and teary-eyed. He chokes, but says nothing, watching her intensely.
Flora tries again to speak, mouthing words silently. She grimaces in frustration, and makes another attempt. Seeing her move, Christovao blurts out, "... Flora!! Oh, Light, you've come back!"
The paladin sits her up, and she leans forewords limply, held in this position only because of the unnatural stiffness in her lower back. Flora mouths something again, but then finally manages to make a sound that erupts not from her throat, but from the same ghostly source as what binds her soul to her long dead body. It is only a small wimpier at first, sounding as though it is coming from very far away. Christovao leans over the edge of the altar and holds her to him in a tender embrace, her body resting feebly against his. She manages to speak audibly again, still distant and quiet, but this time in a coherent word. "Christo…" The paladin's expressed relief turns to something more sober, as a certain realization comes over him. He stammers, "Are... you...
how... how do you feel... ?"
With the slightest bit of agitation in her faint voice, she states, "You revived me with the Light…"
Christovao averts his gaze, silent for a moment before explaining in a soft voice, ".... that's...
it's... all I can do..."
"But… I am Forsaken…" Flora speaks firmly, as a statement, but a tone of sadness is vaguely audible. Her body shifts slightly in a weak attempt to push away from him and he takes notice, shoulders drooping in disappointment, and while his embrace around her weakens, he does not let go entirely.
"Shadow cannot bring back the dead. As far as I know."
Flora turns her head away at this comment, but she can't keep herself from trying to hold him. She manages to lift her hand to his arm, but is unable to manage a grip, and her clawed fingers clicks on his plated gauntlets before falling limply to her side. Uncertain of her intentions as he feels her hand on his arm, he listens intently as she speaks again. "Christo… The Light has forsaken me."
Christovao stammers, "We were going to bring you back to the Light. Remember?"
Flora shakes her head again, but with slightly more vigor.
"But… You said you wanted to…"
"It doesn't think me worthy. It has no plans for me."
"Says who?! The Light let you come back! It brought you from the dark beyond!" Anger creeps into Christovao's voice. Flora attempts a faint, wry smile.
"I guess you're a bad Judge, then. But I don't want its judgement any more."
He manages a faint laugh at this. "I am a bad judge! It's why I don't make judgements."
"...But that's what a paladin is." Flora adds quickly, scoffing quietly at herself, "I don't mean you're a bad paladin, though."
Christovao offers an explanation to stave off her assertions. "Paladins are many things. We judge evil. We punish the wicked, and protect the innocent, uphold truths."
Flora 's body slackens, her tone forlorn. "But I am wicked in nature."
"Says who?!" The paladin repeats, with the same conviction as before. He holds her to him firmly and protectively, as though the dead woman in his arms were a precious sibling.
"Shadow and Light are opposites. They just... don't get along. But you are not wicked!"
"But it wounds my soul. I just cannot believe that the Light is Good if it would hurt me. Not unless I were sin."
Christovao hushes her. "... no, no, no, Flora. Light hurts your flesh... but, it is only a sensory pain. See how even though it hurts, it brings back your life?"
"That was your doing."
"I used the Light, though. Who has been telling you these lies about the Light?"
Flora stops for a moment, then ignores his query, continuing the conversation. "And the Scarlets could use it as a weapon."
"The Light answers whoever believes they are just. Scarlets are so mad they believe their falsifications to be truths. The Light can not discriminate against them." Christovao looks down at Flora, frowning not angrily, nor quite in sadness. His expression portrays a sort of disbelief at her words. "Flora, as the Makers as my witness, I will tell you that of all the Forsaken I've ever met, if there was ever one so deserving of the Light again, one who has tried so hard to still be themselves. To be GOOD despite fate. Dammit, it would be you. I exaggerate nothing about that."
Flora curls into herself a bit, leaning further into Christo's embrace, and he gives her another gentile, affectionate squeeze. "What happened, Flora?"
"But Christo... Even if I were living again, who I am... This person I've become since the Plague…" She fishes for words and sentiments, before understanding and articulating her own, hazy thoughts. "If you were to meet me before I had died, Christo, I would be unrecognizable to you. And not just in looks. I was sad and scared all the time. I…didn't try to stay the same person I was. I changed. And I think I…"
Christovao picks up as she trails off. "well, maybe you're better then. You're kind, and in good humor... you try your best at things. The person you are now, is one of my best friends. Someone I'd jump into the Maelstorm for.
…Maybe I'm just a dumb fool, like many say I am, but I like to think this has some weight."
Flora smiles, thankful that he would finish stating the idea she was too afraid to admit. She closes her eyes and leans her head on his chest, feeling a sense of security she hadn't felt in a long time. "You give me so much hope. Even when I realize the Light doesn't have anything for me, you still do. You make me not give in to the hate that plagues so many of the undead…"
Christovao pauses, her words sinking in, absolving him of the potential regrets of having revived her. "Thank you, Flora. I had worried maybe I was just a blowhard burdening you. Part of me was afraid you may be angry that I brought you back at all. Maybe you'd been happier in death. Away from the hurt."
Flora starts up in a laugh, both in relief and of dismissal of his fears, though her body heaving as she fails to breathe properly. She coughs softly, and Christovao pats her gently.
They stay like that for a while and talk a little more, trying to understand the details of her death before Christovao scoops her delicate body up in his arms and carries her elsewhere. Somewhere more comfortable for the both of them. They have a lot to talk about.
______________________________________________________________
(I'm a little spacy right now; had a bit of a surgery thingie and the pain pills are making me bleugh, and I hate them but I kind of need to take them anyway. Please forgive minor grammatical errors and spacing, because pigs will fly before I can figure out spacing on forums, and the hydrocodone is not helping.)
Flora's death happened via IC posts in Northwind, found Here and here.
Killer: A priestly entity within Northwind. (Judgement)
Cause of Death: Holy Fire (Which did not burn away at her body because of the strange effects Northwind has on the undead)
Resurrector: Cristovao Di Silvio
Short-Term Effects: Flora has great difficulty controlling her body, almost immobile for days after Resurrection, and barely able to walk or use fine motor skills for weeks.
Long-Term Effects: Flora remains weakened by her second death, and though she retains her undead stamina, physical exertion now requires a focused, conscious effort.
Long-Term and Possibly Permanent Effects: Flora's voice sounds fainter, and more distant. Her ghostlight eyes are also noticeably dimmer. Though her nervous system was not particularly in tact before this death, her awareness of her body is still somehow diminished, making her less alert to subtleties in physical touch. Regaining her former "strength" would take years of conscious effort to remaster her own body, and even then, a full suit of plate and a weighty blade and shield as she had formerly would be an exercise of will. As is, once the worst of the ill effects of her Resurrection wore off, she would still be only able to manage mail armor, with maybe a select few pieces of plate.
For his own.
"Flora... please, don't hate me for doing this... I can't let you die so pitifully, without any closure... I have hope for you."
He positions himself in front of the altar, beginning a reverent but passionate prayer.
"Light... please, I beseech your grace, your goodness... your mercy.
Please, holy Light... let me borrow but a portion of your divinity, as a vessel, to bring back this unfulfilled soul…"
Cristovao steps back, and falls to his knees as he focuses channeling the Light into his body. He begins to emanate a subtle, golden glow. His chin quivers as he struggles to maintain his composure.
""I know the flesh is weak, and her's tainted by Shadow, but please... please.... if there was ever one of her kind who deserves a second chance, it would be her. Please, Light, let her move once more...
let her move once more, so that she may know your warmth again one day! I call out to her soul to return to the flesh and be mended!"
Finally unable to contain his feelings, he weeps, tears staining his Alliance tabard. Nevertheless, he brings hands, now blazing with Holy Light, to the lifeless body before him.
The paladin finishes his prayer, filling the corpse with the radiant energy.
"Light's will.... be done!
Amen!"
He watches the body intently.
The vast stone hall is silent other than his breathing, now labored by his emotion.
Then a twitch.
Christovao takes her clawed, skeletal hand. Urgently, he calls to her. "Flora?!"
Flora 's body begins to shiver slightly, growing into a furious tremble. Her chest rises sharply, heaving frantically. A dim, cerulean ghost light flickers in her empty eye sockets, as her face first registers shock, then contorts into a silent scream as her body emanates with the golden glow of the paladin's prayer.
Christovao retracts his hands, watching in horror. Seeing her like this made him worry. Part of him wondered if this was the right choice.
Flora continues to writhe violently from the Light's potent force, and Christovao again holds her, attempting to hold her down as she kicks and claws blindly at the altar below her. She attempts to speak, but her strained words are voiceless as the physical mechanisms of speech fail her in her undead state. Christovao attempts to stroke her head as she spasms, calling to her.
"Flora, it's me…!"
He flinches as Flora jerks underneath him, but persists in his comforting her. Her eye lights flicker again, then retain a steady, but dim glow. The Holy glow fades from her, and her body falls still, save for a subtle trembling throughout her body. Flora wheezes, chest rising and falling as she breathes futilely. Her head turns limply to one side, staring at Christovao, who is now red faced and teary-eyed. He chokes, but says nothing, watching her intensely.
Flora tries again to speak, mouthing words silently. She grimaces in frustration, and makes another attempt. Seeing her move, Christovao blurts out, "... Flora!! Oh, Light, you've come back!"
The paladin sits her up, and she leans forewords limply, held in this position only because of the unnatural stiffness in her lower back. Flora mouths something again, but then finally manages to make a sound that erupts not from her throat, but from the same ghostly source as what binds her soul to her long dead body. It is only a small wimpier at first, sounding as though it is coming from very far away. Christovao leans over the edge of the altar and holds her to him in a tender embrace, her body resting feebly against his. She manages to speak audibly again, still distant and quiet, but this time in a coherent word. "Christo…" The paladin's expressed relief turns to something more sober, as a certain realization comes over him. He stammers, "Are... you...
how... how do you feel... ?"
With the slightest bit of agitation in her faint voice, she states, "You revived me with the Light…"
Christovao averts his gaze, silent for a moment before explaining in a soft voice, ".... that's...
it's... all I can do..."
"But… I am Forsaken…" Flora speaks firmly, as a statement, but a tone of sadness is vaguely audible. Her body shifts slightly in a weak attempt to push away from him and he takes notice, shoulders drooping in disappointment, and while his embrace around her weakens, he does not let go entirely.
"Shadow cannot bring back the dead. As far as I know."
Flora turns her head away at this comment, but she can't keep herself from trying to hold him. She manages to lift her hand to his arm, but is unable to manage a grip, and her clawed fingers clicks on his plated gauntlets before falling limply to her side. Uncertain of her intentions as he feels her hand on his arm, he listens intently as she speaks again. "Christo… The Light has forsaken me."
Christovao stammers, "We were going to bring you back to the Light. Remember?"
Flora shakes her head again, but with slightly more vigor.
"But… You said you wanted to…"
"It doesn't think me worthy. It has no plans for me."
"Says who?! The Light let you come back! It brought you from the dark beyond!" Anger creeps into Christovao's voice. Flora attempts a faint, wry smile.
"I guess you're a bad Judge, then. But I don't want its judgement any more."
He manages a faint laugh at this. "I am a bad judge! It's why I don't make judgements."
"...But that's what a paladin is." Flora adds quickly, scoffing quietly at herself, "I don't mean you're a bad paladin, though."
Christovao offers an explanation to stave off her assertions. "Paladins are many things. We judge evil. We punish the wicked, and protect the innocent, uphold truths."
Flora 's body slackens, her tone forlorn. "But I am wicked in nature."
"Says who?!" The paladin repeats, with the same conviction as before. He holds her to him firmly and protectively, as though the dead woman in his arms were a precious sibling.
"Shadow and Light are opposites. They just... don't get along. But you are not wicked!"
"But it wounds my soul. I just cannot believe that the Light is Good if it would hurt me. Not unless I were sin."
Christovao hushes her. "... no, no, no, Flora. Light hurts your flesh... but, it is only a sensory pain. See how even though it hurts, it brings back your life?"
"That was your doing."
"I used the Light, though. Who has been telling you these lies about the Light?"
Flora stops for a moment, then ignores his query, continuing the conversation. "And the Scarlets could use it as a weapon."
"The Light answers whoever believes they are just. Scarlets are so mad they believe their falsifications to be truths. The Light can not discriminate against them." Christovao looks down at Flora, frowning not angrily, nor quite in sadness. His expression portrays a sort of disbelief at her words. "Flora, as the Makers as my witness, I will tell you that of all the Forsaken I've ever met, if there was ever one so deserving of the Light again, one who has tried so hard to still be themselves. To be GOOD despite fate. Dammit, it would be you. I exaggerate nothing about that."
Flora curls into herself a bit, leaning further into Christo's embrace, and he gives her another gentile, affectionate squeeze. "What happened, Flora?"
"But Christo... Even if I were living again, who I am... This person I've become since the Plague…" She fishes for words and sentiments, before understanding and articulating her own, hazy thoughts. "If you were to meet me before I had died, Christo, I would be unrecognizable to you. And not just in looks. I was sad and scared all the time. I…didn't try to stay the same person I was. I changed. And I think I…"
Christovao picks up as she trails off. "well, maybe you're better then. You're kind, and in good humor... you try your best at things. The person you are now, is one of my best friends. Someone I'd jump into the Maelstorm for.
…Maybe I'm just a dumb fool, like many say I am, but I like to think this has some weight."
Flora smiles, thankful that he would finish stating the idea she was too afraid to admit. She closes her eyes and leans her head on his chest, feeling a sense of security she hadn't felt in a long time. "You give me so much hope. Even when I realize the Light doesn't have anything for me, you still do. You make me not give in to the hate that plagues so many of the undead…"
Christovao pauses, her words sinking in, absolving him of the potential regrets of having revived her. "Thank you, Flora. I had worried maybe I was just a blowhard burdening you. Part of me was afraid you may be angry that I brought you back at all. Maybe you'd been happier in death. Away from the hurt."
Flora starts up in a laugh, both in relief and of dismissal of his fears, though her body heaving as she fails to breathe properly. She coughs softly, and Christovao pats her gently.
They stay like that for a while and talk a little more, trying to understand the details of her death before Christovao scoops her delicate body up in his arms and carries her elsewhere. Somewhere more comfortable for the both of them. They have a lot to talk about.
______________________________________________________________
(I'm a little spacy right now; had a bit of a surgery thingie and the pain pills are making me bleugh, and I hate them but I kind of need to take them anyway. Please forgive minor grammatical errors and spacing, because pigs will fly before I can figure out spacing on forums, and the hydrocodone is not helping.)
Flora's death happened via IC posts in Northwind, found Here and here.
Killer: A priestly entity within Northwind. (Judgement)
Cause of Death: Holy Fire (Which did not burn away at her body because of the strange effects Northwind has on the undead)
Resurrector: Cristovao Di Silvio
Short-Term Effects: Flora has great difficulty controlling her body, almost immobile for days after Resurrection, and barely able to walk or use fine motor skills for weeks.
Long-Term Effects: Flora remains weakened by her second death, and though she retains her undead stamina, physical exertion now requires a focused, conscious effort.
Long-Term and Possibly Permanent Effects: Flora's voice sounds fainter, and more distant. Her ghostlight eyes are also noticeably dimmer. Though her nervous system was not particularly in tact before this death, her awareness of her body is still somehow diminished, making her less alert to subtleties in physical touch. Regaining her former "strength" would take years of conscious effort to remaster her own body, and even then, a full suit of plate and a weighty blade and shield as she had formerly would be an exercise of will. As is, once the worst of the ill effects of her Resurrection wore off, she would still be only able to manage mail armor, with maybe a select few pieces of plate.