yael

Use those delightful little brains the Goddess said (in a rather patronizing tone, and Yael almost scoffed at such advice, but managed to hold her tongue, knowing that such a display would not be well received. She followed Ispoia’s lead as the Seer and official go-between, deciding to keep only the positive parts of the Goddess’s advice in mind. Logic. No emotions.

The next morning, she is resolved to do something that could only be described as using her brain. Taking a running leap off the cliffs, Yael’s wings unfurl in the mid-morning sun, sending a dazzling flash of gold across the rim, as she dives down to the ocean and then pumps her great big, feathered appendages and climbs into the sky again, wheeling around and heading towards the other side of Helovia. Her experience of the battle at the Marsh was limited to herding the children out of the line of danger, and the motherly mare hadn’t stuck around to see what happened afterwards. Rumors and talks about Nyx’s death clued her in, but until now, the golden Sage hadn’t any reason to return to the swampy scene of the crime.

Even now, she initially finds the area distasteful, full of unpleasant smells of peat and moss, decaying vegetation and stagnant pools of water. The flies aren’t terribly thick today, but they are still a nuisance. She lands with several large flaps of her black-tipped wings, doing her best to find a less-squishy, bug-free piece of earth. It isn’t very successful, and immediately she finds her silver-white tail sets to work snapping, whip-like, at the bugs. The altar is easy to find. From here, she can just make out some glowy shapes. Everything else seems… normal, to be completely honest. Her face scrunches up into a thoughtful frown as she tucks her wings in close to her lean frame and begins to walk in concentric circles, examining the ground and the area around the altar until - before Yael knows it - she is fairly close to the black obelisk.

Strained, but still energetic eyes glance over at the altar and then away - then immediately back again.

Holy shit, that’s a SHIN, her mind screams, recognizing one of the symbols. Another step to the left reveals the other letters, forming a a word she uses almost every day.

Shalom, it says.

“Shalom,” she whispers in return, her tongue curling around the word in the very manner of the symbols. Hello. Goodbye. Peace. Yael’s heart seems to beat ten times faster as she pauses, frozen in place as the language of her birth washes over her. “Adonai?” She says now, raising her gaze to the top of the altar, the other phrases forgotten for now.