yael

Then they are four, and Yael greets Amaris with a smile, listening eagerly to her description of a previous encounter with the altar. It’s odd, isn’t it - black is usually the color of decay, or all things sinister. She would be hard pressed to try and eat any black clover, but Amaris says nothing about whether or not the clover appeared withered - in fact, she says she felt rejuvenated by its presence. How peculiar… and yet... ”Strengt… she says simply, in response. A small promise fulfilled, in a ‘normal’ way. Normal being, well, rather ordinary compared to some of the ways they encounter godly miracles. And while yes, she would very much like to see one of the altar’s tricks, she isn’t expecting what will soon happen. No, after staying fairly silent and engaging her listening skills, she all of a sudden has multiple questions about the Rift Gods. “Vhen ze Rifteeans came xere, deed zey say anyt’ing about t’eir gods?” Mentally, it is added to the checklist of stories to find.

Yael is just about to suggest that they take this discovery back to the Edge when a voice far more boomy and rich than any mortal’s interrupts their musings.

Her head whips around, quickly scanning the area around them and still finds them completely alone. There is only one point of focus to be found, and that is the stone obelisk who’s message now pulses with a teal light - much like the color of Lyanna’s wings. She seems to be unable to take her eyes off it, and even when the same voice calls her by name, it seems to be in some distant dream to another Yael, for she isn’t quite sure what to do without a physical manifestation to focus on. Her gaze darts around to the letters until she finally decides to take a few steps back in order to see the altar as a whole.

Nerves rattle somewhere deep inside her, a little voice casually whispering don’t fuck this up in front of three women who’s opinions she so deeply values. Her immediate thought is that he is a courteous God, and there is no reason why he should not be accorded the same respect. “Zat ees rarely a term I xear to describe me, but t’ank you for ze compleement… I xope I xaf done eet right. Eet xas been many years seence I last saw zis writeeng.” she takes a deep breath and takes a quick look behind her, as if to ask permission to continue. Yael is not the ranking member here, but as he/she/it seems to be engaging solely with her at the moment, maybe she should plow ahead? Gazing back at the rock and kind of ‘up’ (which isn’t very tall for the petite mare), she continues. “As you can eemagine, ve haf many kestyons, Kaos.”

She’s sure the continuous parade of Helovians past his altar has not gone unnoticed. Here, though, is a delegation of particularly logical and middle-line, moderate women, ready to see and listen with an open mind. This could be quite beneficial to both parties - why, it’s almost as if real diplomacy is about to be put to use!

It’s all very exciting. The gilded pegasus’s heart races while she falls back on old habits: muscle memory, strength, and grace.