Total darkness had befell the sanctuary that night, almost as if it were magically enhanced to be just so. The events of the night had been as much chaos as Aerick had seen since his return to the Order. He laid in a bed not of his own, a figure tangled into his side. His fingers brushed through the seemingly asleep personâs light colored locks as he stared up to the ceiling above. Those visions of his own, while not the worst he had ever witnessed, still haunted him, as they would haunt anyone of their right mind. His own people, butchered and slaughtered right beneath his nose, and he could do nothing of it. Aerick shifted his head so that he might press his lips unto the forehead of the individual in which he shared a bed. Nothing more than a quiet hum and the shifting of their form was offered in return. He took this opportunity to, as steadily as he could, slip from their hold and maneuver himself to the edge of the bed.
One hand strayed upward and ran through his silvery white hair, only to then come back around and strike downward against his face. A quiet sigh escaped his lips as he gathered himself and eased his way off of the bed top. His first order of business, dress himself. He donned nothing more than a loose fitting shirt, black trousers, and his black knee high boots. Just as quietly as he left the bed, he slipped from the room and moved soundlessly through the dimly lit halls of their holy refuge. In the distance he heard the sounds that he had expected growing louder with each step forward. The hushed whispers of men, women, and children alike faintly echoed throughout the open chamber of their main hall. The sight that he saw upon his arrival was not one that he had wanted to see, but one that was necessary. Guardsmen and their families all huddled in their respective groups as hooded men went from sect to sect and offered them bread and water. Aerickâs features grew grim, and soon enough twisted with anger.
Out of the ten or so men that tended the newly homeless, one strode over to the Lord and shoved his hood back. Short black hair, a handsome face, with ocean blue eyes looked to Aerick. A man perhaps in his mid twenties. âSeton.â Said the Inquisitor as he approached, âMâlord,â Began the armorclad man, âAll outposts and villages of ours have been cleared. Any that remain are of our Sanguine Eyes, who lingered to search for any outliers.â Aerick nodded in response and shifted his gaze to the people, âSee to it that they are fed, kept warm, and have a place to rest their heads tonight. We will fill them in as we can tomorrow, and should we need it, we will clear out more of this place to make room. None are to be left behind.â As he finished, his silvered, hawklike stare refocused itself upon Seton, âYes, Mâlord. As you say.â And with the bow of his head, the Eye moved off to rejoin his brothers-in-arms. Aerick was left alone as he studied over the scared, confused, and exhausted people of his Order. At that moment, he vowed to make this right. By whatever means necessary.
[ @morganadrake @veign-meridian and others of the order of avalon! ]
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