Approaching the Temple

Shalia had drank a lot after that balcony meeting. Much more than she probably should have, especially when Amastan had come to her room the morning after. She was more than happy to welcome the priestess in, eager for a report on the body examination. Her demeanor was not encouraging, so the witch sat her down for a glass of wine to which Shalia promptly had two. She felt sympathy for the priestess, being in a position below another and having to bend to their will even if you wished to pursue something else. At least with Koshnem, she could get words in for consideration and felt valued.
Tamazzalt had proven to be two-faced and she was unsure which side was more man or master. Or perhaps that is what diplomacy truly was in Arcadia? Approaching with a fierce brutality and adaptability, knowing how to get into the head of another by pleasantries and small talk only to turn completely on your heels when it suited. Figures. People like her didn’t make or keep friends.
The women discussed Amastan’s frustrations, Shalia feeding small bits of inquiry in between sips, the state of the body and about how it was to be cremated outside of the temple. An event she would be there front and center for.

~Ugh. Must you burn the girl?~

Being barred from viewing the penitent was a bit disheartening considering she was involved in the breaking of the news, but she understood. It was still a sacred part of their practices, and only members of the faith should be there for it. A very holy, sensitive ordeal. Still, she was bitter to be excluded from something of importance. Drink to it, I guess.

Sleep escaped her most of the night, rolling in the silk sheets with a thick air of irritability and discomfort. Muttering both to herself and passing frustrated comments on to Noraura before she grew fed up with the whole thing. When in between brief sleeping periods, it was writing what seemed like nonsense on her parchment, which littered the desk and a short pile had formed on one corner. Sheets scrawled with symbols, Helian words, and whatever else ran through her head. And when that grew tiring, she resorted to her icy calming circle to pass the time until her eyes grew heavy again. Speaking to the goddess and dumping concerns about the situation onto her to see if she had some guidance to offer. Rinse and repeat until the sun rises.

Foreign presence in the city stirred a nest of hornets. Though she had her status, that might not be enough for or even be known by citizens when she showed her Helian face. She hadn’t exactly met many of the people to be fair. Her imaginings had the potential to be true; the rocks, the blood, the vitriol. Any one of them…and so she found it safer to remain indoors. One of these Helians could have been what was stalking her, too. A phantom of her past come to torment her. Always watching.
Even with an Ozainae and two Aghul guards posted outside of her door--which she demanded after the previous meeting-- she felt unsafe. Being restricted to buildings left Shalia greatly unhappy and with ample time in her own head.

She ran many scenarios, some far fetched and others too plausible for comfort. If no Prophetess were to rise again, and the Ascendant was the second highest position among the Ozainae, that made him the leader by default whether it was temporary or not. He ran the city and controlled the natives here. He should have been more concerned with the deaths, right? But she also understood the danger and desire of immense power in the hands of men. No Seer means the entire basis of their faith is shaken, their gods displeased, new leadership established, traditional life disrupted, so on and so forth. His eyes were only on the Sand Horde. She was all for breaking tradition--becoming a spear-maiden under her father, her high ranking among the Aghul, raising the Horde without a Seer’s command-- but she had to admit that ignoring unexplained mass death looked terrible and quite literally was. Directing the blame somewhere else without thoroughly investigating, seeking the foreigners as a scapegoat to rally the cause behind war. Whatever the Ascendant was aiming for, he was surely losing sight of his people in the process. But he seemed like a man beyond reason, and no one dared to question him very long.

Here she was caught in the middle of it. All she had to do was accept the treaty and get it in motion, block out the rest. But she couldn’t. She wasn’t that thick-skulled or thick-willed to turn a blind eye to everything that didn’t serve the banner’s purpose, even if that may be what her war chieftain would advise her to do. Stay the course and all that. Surely she could take a few alternative paths on the course if she ended in the same spot. But what exactly was she to do with all of this? It was not her place or matter to get tangled up in. How conflicting...

This afternoon, Shalia arrived in the Temple of The Wandering’s square with two guards at her side, each equipped with their blades. Lerek held her dagger in his belt as well seeing that she could not carry it on her person. Not anywhere in this robe with easy access. She would have preferred to bring all of the Aghul, but insisted that one of them stay back and guard her room. Outings left her exposed, but so did an empty room while everyone was occupied. The ones with her had scarves themselves to aid in masking their outsider appearance better. Shalia wore hers loosely with her thick black braid snaking out from the scarf, not wishing to obscure her face or sight too much for something like this. She wanted to be face to face with people, with the Ascendant and the unsettled priests and the citizens of the city. Being near the temple also put her further on edge, given that she had not been near a proper holy site like this in years since. The architecture was so different and yet...what an ostracizing and unpleasantly familiar feeling.

Her expression looked blue as were most of the peoples’ there, but hers was from something different. Almost mixed with a bit of anger or frustration, some implacable emotion that chilled the air around her. A foul, anxious feeling twisting in her gut as Tamazzalt appeared before the crowd ready to begin a speech. She had more questions than answers, and now she did not have the confidence that he would deliver anyone the answers they really sought.