Working the Crowd

Shalia's eyes darted between Amastan and the Ascendant as his words were translated. She could pick up some of what was said on her own, but the way he spoke in ever-changing presence and cadence--from the old and wise expressions of a teacher to someone exuding zeal and determination not unlike what she had been closely familiar with once-- made it difficult to connect two and two without the priestess.

Her stomach turned sour the more he dug into pushing the Sand Horde. This was a great moment of grief and fury for the Ozainae but here he was using it like propaganda, banking on something so tender as shaken tradition and will of the gods to hammer into their heads his solution. And of course, further establishing the Helian as the enemy. Which she agreed with in many ways, but the ground on which this was approached felt exploitative. Manipulative.

But it was working.

Men like him were always dangerous. The ones who could go on unchallenged and exact complete control of situations, shift them in their favor. She saw it now. Likewise she recognized what her options were; let her hands be bound by obligation and continue with the treaty plans, or retain some more humane grip and return to Koshnem with nothing which truly was unacceptable. As much as she trusted her leader...she had seen how he became when something did not benefit him. She would shame the banner. Surely be executed by his hand.
But didn't humane mean in accordance to the basis of some religious or moral high ground? There was no place for anything frilly and righteous here. This was gritty, taunting. Dark. But she was not without a mind of her own. Reservations and hesitations and morals. Letting him go on like this...it didn't feel right. No, it wasn't right.

Right?

She herself put it best--leaving empty handed was not an option. She was not here to solve Gra'akast's problems or rectify their leadership. It was not her damned place. One purpose to being out here. But the problem did not exist until she had arrived, so how could she have planned for this mess? She was a part of it now. Surely she held some responsibility, though how to go about dealing with it she was at a loss for.

And yet Shalia tore herself up over the decision, seeing how shaky of a gamble it was to trust a man like the Ascendant when the priests looked on with some air of horrified and crushed reactions. When the structure of their culture was at stake over someone's own desires. How the light seemed to twinkle out of Amastan's eyes the more Tamazzalt spoke and her own tone grew angrier.

Could all the penitents truly be dead? Would there be no Seer ever again to fulfill the raising of the Horde as it was promised? If that were true, this was going to royally fuck her over in one way or the next.
To betray allegiances or self?

Shalia was becoming more unneasy by the second as the crowd roared into life. Shifting feet and stance. Surrounded by shouts, cries, all while she stared across the square and into the pyre where the body of an innocent girl was erupting into flames, the past to be whisked away into a pile of dust. They would never know what her final moments entailed. This night the dead would not speak.
Smells of smoke, burning flesh and body odor filled the air, the square cloaked in a warm light and floating embers as shadows danced around them. She thought, for a moment, she could hear them laughing, too.
Shalia could not peel her eyes from the pyre as the body was gradually reduced to charred bones. Her expression now fell into something menacing, nostrils flared and eyes narrowed slightly. A darkness covered the witch like a blanket, sudden and unexpected. The air clouding around her, heavy and freezing. Amastan and the guards noticed this.

The priest was irritated differently from the crowd. When Shalia did look away from the pyre, it was disheartening to observe someone with such clear spirit for her faith and duty slowly be snuffed out in this manner. And Amastan was helpless against it. The priests all were.

What should have been the seamless running of a cycle felt like an end. Felt starkly ominous. And of course, Shalia knew why it seemed that way for many. The Ascendant was their leader for the time being and that time could stretch on for however long he willed it. Perhaps the days of the Prophetess was nearing its eternal end...

Once again she found herself overwhelmed in her thoughts and the severity of the situation. This was so much larger than expected. So much more to digest and choose wisely. So much weighing down on her body, straining her shoulders until collapse. It stung in her chest, her pulse quickened, and she was a little choked up as they moved from the gathering.
Why could nothing go smoothly? Why now?

With the events of this evening and in needing a moment to collect herself, she paid no mind momentarily to what was lurking in the dark...