The ancient rotunda was resplendent even in the gloom cast by the cloudy skies. A light rain fell from the heavens, the kind of endless drizzle that soaked everything through without ever quite seeming to get anything wet. It was a miserable kind of day, a day of those everlasting pitter-pats of rain drops and those occasional sighs of the wind through the trees. The latter never lasted long; it was only enough of a breeze to briefly stir the water-laden, drooping leaves on the trees, but never enough to send the dreary skies on their way. Despite the greyness of the day, the small circle underneath the stained-glass roof of the rotunda was filled with the colors that reflected from the ceiling onto the pillars. It turned the emerald Birdsong grasses to various shades of teal and brown and yellow, the results of vibrant hues mixed with green. The drapes, thick and white and luxurious, hung lifelessly from the entryway, their dangling ends earthbound by the rain's soaking relentlessness.

The little slave girl hovered under the protective covering of the rotunda as she sought shelter. Had she been in service, she would likely have been out in the wet and the mud and the muck; but she was not, much to her dismay, and so she found herself huddling away from the entrances, trying to make herself as small and unnoticeable as possible. In all likelihood, this was a place meant for royalty, or at the very least the merchants - in other words, it was no place for the likes of her. She should be standing quietly under the canopy of the trees, though even the broad leaves of the forest trees would do little to shield her from this particular rain. They were already sodden, saturated, and she could hear the large plops of raindrops as they skidded along drooping stems and wilting leaves. Had she been anyone else, she would have been glad for her shelter, but, being herself, it only reminded her of her various failures.

She remembered Zuriel wistfully - not because her latest owner had been particularly kind, but because the angel had been her Mistress. She had done as the buckskin had expected, treated the little slave girl as a servant, and for all that, Kaiylia had lost her in the darkness. She should have tried harder, should have looked harder, should have, should have, should have... or, at least, that was what she told herself, kicking herself over and over until she lost the ability to reprimand herself. What was the use, when she was sure that Zuriel was gone, that she would never see the many-horned seraphim again? She had failed, like she had failed all of her owners before. Now, she simply stared out of the entrance to the rotunda, blankly watching as the heavens fell to the earth and wondering what would become of a masterless slave in this masterless land.

"Talking"

@[Wilibald]

Kaiylia