The Terror of Sal'thorin

"I wield the law, and those who attempt to defy justice will answer to my spell." Profile image by @windmaedchen !

[highpriest-zamel]

High Priest Zamel Is Available For Punishments Confessions!

You enter the Lunaris Altar, eager to find a priest that you can speak with for guidance, comfort, and if you need it...maybe even some purification.

As you approach though, you see a figure that's familiar. Too familiar. Towering over any other priests, his staff clinking with each step, just as it does when he stalks the streets of Sal'Thorin, seeking what sin he can purge.

High Priest Zamel. The Terror of Sal'Thorin, the priest who stigma'd his own parents and who is said to have given 40 stigmas in one day.

Before you can turn and run, he meets your eyes. No turning back now...hopefully there's mercy for you to leave his presence unexamined...

"You. Speak. What is required of me?"

---

Welcome! You may know me as @magister-violyste...Zamel is my Essail OC for AFK Journey! These Sal'Thorin elves have taken a place in my heart, and I've been so touched by the Merlinverse reception of him and the general fun of the RP blogs around that I wanna jump in the activity. Note that this blog will be text based mostly because I'm too busy/need more art practice to make OC sprites. Background TLDR: Zamel is obsessed with purity and will stigma anyone and EVERYONE. Watch out! More details about Zamel: - Backstory Info - Affinity Tales - Unit Kit Voicelines (Coming soon) --- Basic RP Rules apply, and please keep things PG-13. That said, Zamel is a jerk, so I welcome you heckling him, flirting with him, and generally bothering this idiot. Just know he may stigma you in return! :) Oh, and for now, he's mid-EoD so he can keep being a terror... ---

[serenaofesperia]

An envelope flew into Serena's room, the envelope open itself with magic as a letter slip out of it.

Greetings lady Serena. It's seem your beauty is ever so lasting, dazzling like a rare gem. I hope you'll forever shine and dazzling like this, Perhaps just like glitter that won't come off the skin but forever shining.

- Jn.

Before the young lady could look away from the mysterious letter, a portal appears above her and without warning dropped a pounds of dirty mustard yellow glitter directly on her, covered every part of her with glitter from head to toe and basically buried her in ugly colored glitter. And if we know glitter so well, those probably won't come out even after hundreds of shower.

Serena’s shriek is loud enough for the Essail to hear.

[highpriest-zamel]

Zamel looks up from his desk and frowns before standing and grabbing his staff.

“This breaks the sound ordinance in the law. Someone must receive punishment.”

[highpriest-zamel]

Zamel’s Journal 9.1

That accursed writer has escaped. No matter. They cannot hide for long. I shall run them to the surface even if they burn beneath its harsh light. Even that would be a fitting end for their vile existence. Judgement ceremonies took most of the day. It is a comfort to purge what corruption may be handled. Today included the punishment for Simolas. Though he is yet the youngest I have seen to be punished, it is best such wickedness is weeded out prior to its growth. Justice is a mercy to the people, even when they do not yet understand it.

There is a knock at my door. I have been expecting @damelaylachirilth. She was noticeably absent after I completed my work.

I hope she has not encountered trouble. Anyone who causes such to her will answer to me.

[highpriest-zamel]

To Catch a Journalist…

High Priest Zamel strides through Sal'thorin. His staff clinks on the cobblestones. Its sound is sharper today. Faster. Like a sword seeking blood. Behind him, her gaze holding the cold of every winter the Essail have never seen, is his apprentice, @essailpriestess-morana. She hurries to keep up with her master, yet still appears as placid as a frozen lake.

The Terror and his shadow stop at an unassuming door near the markets. If one wasn't looking for it, they might miss the seam and hinges entirely. Elegant wisteria drapes over it in just the right way to make most Essail pass by, but Zamel is certainly not most Essail.

Zamel does not knock. Instead, he raises his staff, casts a spell.

The door slams open.

"Show yourself, sinful one!"

There is no reply.

Zamel motions to Morana to follow him inside. Light pours in from the door they leave ajar. It illuminates the space, full to the brim of...nothing. Nothing but dust and single letter left on the table: addressed to Zamel himself and signed with an insignia he's come to know and loathe. @concerned-essail.

It's snatched into his hands in an instant. He scans it. The lines on his face deepen, rivaling the caves of Sal'thorin itself. After a moment, he holds it out for Morana to take and view herself. With a clenched jaw, he grits out the words: "They've been warned."

[concerned-essail]

You will find no culprit here, no press to smash, no body to stigmatize and parade.

I was warned. Such tidings have a way of circulating when truth becomes inconvenient.

You call my words sinful. Then answer them.

You call me a liar. Then disprove me.

If the expedition was righteous, its wards sufficient, its purpose pure — you have nothing to fear from ink.

If not, you will hear from it again. And again. And again.

Ask yourselves: Why does paper draw more force from you than corruption ever did?

You may seize letters. You may frighten scribes.

You cannot unwrite what the city already knows.

The walls are listening.

[essailpriestess-morana]

[highpriest-zamel]

Zamel makes no motion. The words that come from his mouth are placid, no hint of malice towards the young apprentice.

“Go home, Morana. Rest for tomorrow’s duties.”

Once she’s gone, Zamel his hands clench into fists. Though some might have heard the faint crash, none would see its cause: the Terror picking up a loose stone from the floor and hurling it at the wall.

Zamel glares at the broken pieces, as though they somehow magicked the writer away. His breath is heavy, his gaze dark enough to almost deliver a stigma with a glance.

“You may run,” he mutters. “But you shall not escape my hand.”

[highpriest-zamel]

To Catch a Journalist…

High Priest Zamel strides through Sal'thorin. His staff clinks on the cobblestones. Its sound is sharper today. Faster. Like a sword seeking blood. Behind him, her gaze holding the cold of every winter the Essail have never seen, is his apprentice, @essailpriestess-morana. She hurries to keep up with her master, yet still appears as placid as a frozen lake.

The Terror and his shadow stop at an unassuming door near the markets. If one wasn't looking for it, they might miss the seam and hinges entirely. Elegant wisteria drapes over it in just the right way to make most Essail pass by, but Zamel is certainly not most Essail.

Zamel does not knock. Instead, he raises his staff, casts a spell.

The door slams open.

"Show yourself, sinful one!"

There is no reply.

Zamel motions to Morana to follow him inside. Light pours in from the door they leave ajar. It illuminates the space, full to the brim of...nothing. Nothing but dust and single letter left on the table: addressed to Zamel himself and signed with an insignia he's come to know and loathe. @concerned-essail.

It's snatched into his hands in an instant. He scans it. The lines on his face deepen, rivaling the caves of Sal'thorin itself. After a moment, he holds it out for Morana to take and view herself. With a clenched jaw, he grits out the words: "They've been warned."

[highpriest-zamel]

Zamel's Journal 9.0

This entry is dated several months after the previous one.

After much investigation, I have located the writer behind those inflammatory papers. How foolish of them to leave such blatant traces of magic behind. They may think themselves clever, but justice always finds those who dare challenge it. One more weight of corruption to be purged from the city.

Sal'thorin shall be pure yet.

Morana will come along. She has been quite eager during the investigation. I have determined this individual is no challenge to my magic; no danger is involved for her. It will be educational for my apprentice to see justice enacted impartially.

Due to the nature of this visit, I do not plan on allowing Layla to come along. Her skill with a crossbow is admirable, but an arrow is too slow compared to magic. It is best to do this quietly, without her knowledge. Although Layla has a skill for digging at private matters she has no business with, her duties have preoccupied her as of late. It should be easy to keep this silent.

Layla is distracted for now across the room with a book. I have allowed her to read what she wishes from my library. No harm can come of it, though she insists I read one of her insipid story books in exchange. They are a test to the mind, though perhaps amusing in their lack of intellect. A small price to pay in exchange for Layla's extended study of the laws and history of our society.

Her understanding is surprisingly greater than the elite daughters of the most leading families. It has made conversation throughout the day tolerable, since she is at my side whenever I am not at the Lunaris Altar. Sometimes she asks questions that require even I to reference my library, though Layla is quite smug on the rare chance this occurs.

...I write too long. I must prepare for the confrontation, once Layla has gone home and after Eowen has retired.

This gossip ends here, and I shall take pleasure in watching its conclusion.

[highpriest-zamel]

Zamel’s Journal 8.0

Layla is taking several days off to recover from her stigma. She tells me while she does not transform, the magic of a stigma itself causes her to be ill.

It is…intriguing.

Her blood is corrupted by Toplanders, yet transforming eludes her. She ought to be the first to transform with such a stain. Yet something prevents it. Is this why she has found such mercy from the Queen?

It could be she is the key to resolving the protection spell’s weakness. If I can replicate any minimal magic aura she has, it could mean eradicating all corruption. The dream of all…

Perhaps she is not so useless.

[highpriest-zamel]

continued from here \ @damelaylachirilth

—

Zamel finishes arranging the stigma schedule for the week and glances across the guest room, where he’s seated at the desk. A smaller writing space than his study, but effective enough.

Layla is still in bed, unconscious. Eowen has come in to tend her a few times, but he long dismissed the elder Essail for the night. He can handle this. He’s not concerned…of course not…just curious why his guard isn’t awake yet.

He sets his papers aright and wanders to the bedside. His eyebrows wrinkle. His hand checks Layla’s forehead for any signs of fever. Nothing.

“So troublesome. You’re going to force me into using my healing spell, aren’t you?”

[damelaylachirilth]

Ever unconcious, Layla stirred and gave a small groan of discomfort as she felt heat on her forehead. A soothing kind, that seemed to stave off the chill of the Stigma as she brought slowly back to the waking world.

Sore head. Dried tongue, exhaustion in the bones despite the long rest.

Her lashes fluttered slowly opened, yet vision was blurry as she slowly began to focus on the figure above her, with the most... beautiful dark, sad eyes...

"Wherh..." She coughed quietly, blinking and shutting eyes to block out the strength of the lamp.

[highpriest-zamel]

Zamel jerks his hand away as Layla wakes. No need to make things strange.

“Ah. You’re alive.”

He turns his back and wanders back to the desk, despite having finished most of his work already. After a moment, he speaks without eye contact. Quite the bedside manner the Terror has…

“You collapsed during my walk. Why?”

[damelaylachirilth]

"of course I'm alive, I thought priests were smart."

Grumpy enough to almost match his energy as she struggled to sit up, her head swimming as she groaned and laid back on the pillows, letting an arm fall over her face.

"What's her name, Priestess Annoying... has a tendency to exuberate the effects of the Stigma. One day for the populous is three for me."

[highpriest-zamel]

“Don’t sit up yet. I thought guards were supposed to be smart.”

Despite him throwing her comment back at her…one day worth three…now that’s intriguing. Without even trying, she’s caught his niche interest, despite the insult to the priesthood that would normally earn her a scolding.

He crosses the room again and hovers over her, permanent frown in place as always. He stares at her stigma as though he can get his answers by memorizing the mark he already knows. This newfound interest in Layla is conveyed in the best way possible…

“What do you mean by one day like three? It should all have the same effect. Explain. Now.”

Oh yeah. Nailed it.

[damelaylachirilth]

"ugh, just lower your voice, please..."

Still keeping her eyes closed to ignore the pounding in her head, she gave another groan.

"I dont become a Corrupted, thanks to my already corrupted bloodline. But I guess in a twist of fate, I feel the effects on my body far more strenuous. Aches, dizzy spells, and prone to fainting. Believe me, a Stigma to me is just as painful as a stigma to all. Call it blessing or curse, what I survive from full corruption, I suffer in the pain intensifying."

[highpriest-zamel]

“Fascinating…has it always been that way? Actually, don’t answer that yet.”

He hurries from the room, robe flowing behind him. He returns with three notebooks, two thick volumes, some assorted papers, and a writing utensil. Oh, Layla, what have you done…

He pulls up a chair and sits beside her.

“Now. Tell me. Does it worsen as you age? Improve? And who all has given you a stigma before? I imagine it happens often.”

[damelaylachirilth]

"har har, you know you're funny. So funny that should have been your calling. The Jester of the Queen's favor..."

Well if he's going to be all inquisitor on her, she might as well get comfortable. Laying fully prone, she waves a hand dismissively.

"Can I first have a glass of water? Anyway, I think it's been lesser but that's only because as a child, a stigma hurts terribly though I'm sure you don't know. First time I nearly wanted to die. Priestess Auriel, Priestess Myr'la but she doesnt count because it was out of spite and she was reprimanded for it, my own Matron Mother... yes and High Priestess Velara was my first punisher."

[highpriest-zamel]

Zamel pours a purple liquid from a pitcher on the nightstand into the glass next to it. No, he wasn’t kind enough to think of it…Eowen left it hours ago.

“I can’t offer you Divine Dew, for obvious reasons, and I don’t keep extra stores. But you can have this.”

He holds the glass for his new curiosity. With his free hand, he flips through some notes of his.

“Do you recall the symptoms of the High Priestess’ magic? And how old you were? I am well aware of the feeling of stigmatization as a child and can easily compare it with my own experience.”

[damelaylachirilth]

"You, stigmaed as a child? Hardly."

She finally sat up in disbelief taking the glass and drinking the deepwater with a grimace. Only slightly less palatable than Divine Dew, but instantly refreshing as her throat felt soothed of the scratchiness, and she tapped the sides of the glass in thought.

"I believe I was... five. Old enough to comprehend pain, it was a sort of experiment to see if I could perhaps be an answer for our people's curse. Burning, yes much burning all over the body. The heart beating so fast, and so tight I swore it would burst. Practically made blind with the pain and dizziness, the experiment needed to end shortly."

[highpriest-zamel]

“I did receive a stigma. I was two years older than you, but the experience was different. Now, there is the variable of who conducted the spell as well…”

He goes through each item clinically, face passive to the pain they each endured in adolescence.

“It’s as though the magic inflicts more corruption into you…thus giving you the feeling of transformation. As though your life essence is fighting itself. Fascinating…

“Maybe it’s good I didn’t use my healing spell. It might have made you feel worse.”

[damelaylachirilth]

"huh... fascinating is a... word alright. Anyway, this one is especially painful so for the next couple of days I think it's safe to say I won't be able to escort you around Sal'thorin. Apologies."

She watched him as he eagerly poured over his notes. In a way, it was cute to see him she excited about something. Even if that something was her punishment but, eh, it was kind of worth it watching him.

"So, what got you stigma the first time? Did you not bow to the correct height while praying to the statue of our Queen?" She asked as she took a sip of the deep water, making a face.

[highpriest-zamel]

“It is alright. You must rest. If you wish, you may remain here. Eowen can care for you. Or I can have her send for your House servants to take you home.”

He scribbles some more notes. When he finally looks up, he stares into her eyes with the cold hardness his Stigma victims see before his magic sets in. His left eyebrow twitches, so brief you could miss it.

“I gave away Divine Dew to a girl my age. She was a Commoner who sneaked into the city. We were both caught and punished appropriately, and I learned a valuable lesson."

[highpriest-zamel]

continued from here \ @damelaylachirilth

—

Zamel finishes arranging the stigma schedule for the week and glances across the guest room, where he’s seated at the desk. A smaller writing space than his study, but effective enough.

Layla is still in bed, unconscious. Eowen has come in to tend her a few times, but he long dismissed the elder Essail for the night. He can handle this. He’s not concerned…of course not…just curious why his guard isn’t awake yet.

He sets his papers aright and wanders to the bedside. His eyebrows wrinkle. His hand checks Layla’s forehead for any signs of fever. Nothing.

“So troublesome. You’re going to force me into using my healing spell, aren’t you?”

[damelaylachirilth]

Ever unconcious, Layla stirred and gave a small groan of discomfort as she felt heat on her forehead. A soothing kind, that seemed to stave off the chill of the Stigma as she brought slowly back to the waking world.

Sore head. Dried tongue, exhaustion in the bones despite the long rest.

Her lashes fluttered slowly opened, yet vision was blurry as she slowly began to focus on the figure above her, with the most... beautiful dark, sad eyes...

"Wherh..." She coughed quietly, blinking and shutting eyes to block out the strength of the lamp.

[highpriest-zamel]

Zamel jerks his hand away as Layla wakes. No need to make things strange.

“Ah. You’re alive.”

He turns his back and wanders back to the desk, despite having finished most of his work already. After a moment, he speaks without eye contact. Quite the bedside manner the Terror has…

“You collapsed during my walk. Why?”

[damelaylachirilth]

"of course I'm alive, I thought priests were smart."

Grumpy enough to almost match his energy as she struggled to sit up, her head swimming as she groaned and laid back on the pillows, letting an arm fall over her face.

"What's her name, Priestess Annoying... has a tendency to exuberate the effects of the Stigma. One day for the populous is three for me."

[highpriest-zamel]

“Don’t sit up yet. I thought guards were supposed to be smart.”

Despite him throwing her comment back at her…one day worth three…now that’s intriguing. Without even trying, she’s caught his niche interest, despite the insult to the priesthood that would normally earn her a scolding.

He crosses the room again and hovers over her, permanent frown in place as always. He stares at her stigma as though he can get his answers by memorizing the mark he already knows. This newfound interest in Layla is conveyed in the best way possible…

“What do you mean by one day like three? It should all have the same effect. Explain. Now.”

Oh yeah. Nailed it.

[damelaylachirilth]

"ugh, just lower your voice, please..."

Still keeping her eyes closed to ignore the pounding in her head, she gave another groan.

"I dont become a Corrupted, thanks to my already corrupted bloodline. But I guess in a twist of fate, I feel the effects on my body far more strenuous. Aches, dizzy spells, and prone to fainting. Believe me, a Stigma to me is just as painful as a stigma to all. Call it blessing or curse, what I survive from full corruption, I suffer in the pain intensifying."

[highpriest-zamel]

“Fascinating…has it always been that way? Actually, don’t answer that yet.”

He hurries from the room, robe flowing behind him. He returns with three notebooks, two thick volumes, some assorted papers, and a writing utensil. Oh, Layla, what have you done…

He pulls up a chair and sits beside her.

“Now. Tell me. Does it worsen as you age? Improve? And who all has given you a stigma before? I imagine it happens often.”

[damelaylachirilth]

"har har, you know you're funny. So funny that should have been your calling. The Jester of the Queen's favor..."

Well if he's going to be all inquisitor on her, she might as well get comfortable. Laying fully prone, she waves a hand dismissively.

"Can I first have a glass of water? Anyway, I think it's been lesser but that's only because as a child, a stigma hurts terribly though I'm sure you don't know. First time I nearly wanted to die. Priestess Auriel, Priestess Myr'la but she doesnt count because it was out of spite and she was reprimanded for it, my own Matron Mother... yes and High Priestess Velara was my first punisher."

[highpriest-zamel]

Zamel pours a purple liquid from a pitcher on the nightstand into the glass next to it. No, he wasn’t kind enough to think of it…Eowen left it hours ago.

“I can’t offer you Divine Dew, for obvious reasons, and I don’t keep extra stores. But you can have this.”

He holds the glass for his new curiosity. With his free hand, he flips through some notes of his.

“Do you recall the symptoms of the High Priestess’ magic? And how old you were? I am well aware of the feeling of stigmatization as a child and can easily compare it with my own experience.”

[damelaylachirilth]

"You, stigmaed as a child? Hardly."

She finally sat up in disbelief taking the glass and drinking the deepwater with a grimace. Only slightly less palatable than Divine Dew, but instantly refreshing as her throat felt soothed of the scratchiness, and she tapped the sides of the glass in thought.

"I believe I was... five. Old enough to comprehend pain, it was a sort of experiment to see if I could perhaps be an answer for our people's curse. Burning, yes much burning all over the body. The heart beating so fast, and so tight I swore it would burst. Practically made blind with the pain and dizziness, the experiment needed to end shortly."

[highpriest-zamel]

“I did receive a stigma. I was two years older than you, but the experience was different. Now, there is the variable of who conducted the spell as well…”

He goes through each item clinically, face passive to the pain they each endured in adolescence.

“It’s as though the magic inflicts more corruption into you…thus giving you the feeling of transformation. As though your life essence is fighting itself. Fascinating…

“Maybe it’s good I didn’t use my healing spell. It might have made you feel worse.”

[highpriest-zamel]

continued from here \ @damelaylachirilth

—

Zamel finishes arranging the stigma schedule for the week and glances across the guest room, where he’s seated at the desk. A smaller writing space than his study, but effective enough.

Layla is still in bed, unconscious. Eowen has come in to tend her a few times, but he long dismissed the elder Essail for the night. He can handle this. He’s not concerned…of course not…just curious why his guard isn’t awake yet.

He sets his papers aright and wanders to the bedside. His eyebrows wrinkle. His hand checks Layla’s forehead for any signs of fever. Nothing.

“So troublesome. You’re going to force me into using my healing spell, aren’t you?”

[damelaylachirilth]

Ever unconcious, Layla stirred and gave a small groan of discomfort as she felt heat on her forehead. A soothing kind, that seemed to stave off the chill of the Stigma as she brought slowly back to the waking world.

Sore head. Dried tongue, exhaustion in the bones despite the long rest.

Her lashes fluttered slowly opened, yet vision was blurry as she slowly began to focus on the figure above her, with the most... beautiful dark, sad eyes...

"Wherh..." She coughed quietly, blinking and shutting eyes to block out the strength of the lamp.

[highpriest-zamel]

Zamel jerks his hand away as Layla wakes. No need to make things strange.

“Ah. You’re alive.”

He turns his back and wanders back to the desk, despite having finished most of his work already. After a moment, he speaks without eye contact. Quite the bedside manner the Terror has…

“You collapsed during my walk. Why?”

[damelaylachirilth]

"of course I'm alive, I thought priests were smart."

Grumpy enough to almost match his energy as she struggled to sit up, her head swimming as she groaned and laid back on the pillows, letting an arm fall over her face.

"What's her name, Priestess Annoying... has a tendency to exuberate the effects of the Stigma. One day for the populous is three for me."

[highpriest-zamel]

“Don’t sit up yet. I thought guards were supposed to be smart.”

Despite him throwing her comment back at her…one day worth three…now that’s intriguing. Without even trying, she’s caught his niche interest, despite the insult to the priesthood that would normally earn her a scolding.

He crosses the room again and hovers over her, permanent frown in place as always. He stares at her stigma as though he can get his answers by memorizing the mark he already knows. This newfound interest in Layla is conveyed in the best way possible…

“What do you mean by one day like three? It should all have the same effect. Explain. Now.”

Oh yeah. Nailed it.

[damelaylachirilth]

"ugh, just lower your voice, please..."

Still keeping her eyes closed to ignore the pounding in her head, she gave another groan.

"I dont become a Corrupted, thanks to my already corrupted bloodline. But I guess in a twist of fate, I feel the effects on my body far more strenuous. Aches, dizzy spells, and prone to fainting. Believe me, a Stigma to me is just as painful as a stigma to all. Call it blessing or curse, what I survive from full corruption, I suffer in the pain intensifying."

[highpriest-zamel]

“Fascinating…has it always been that way? Actually, don’t answer that yet.”

He hurries from the room, robe flowing behind him. He returns with three notebooks, two thick volumes, some assorted papers, and a writing utensil. Oh, Layla, what have you done…

He pulls up a chair and sits beside her.

“Now. Tell me. Does it worsen as you age? Improve? And who all has given you a stigma before? I imagine it happens often.”

[damelaylachirilth]

"har har, you know you're funny. So funny that should have been your calling. The Jester of the Queen's favor..."

Well if he's going to be all inquisitor on her, she might as well get comfortable. Laying fully prone, she waves a hand dismissively.

"Can I first have a glass of water? Anyway, I think it's been lesser but that's only because as a child, a stigma hurts terribly though I'm sure you don't know. First time I nearly wanted to die. Priestess Auriel, Priestess Myr'la but she doesnt count because it was out of spite and she was reprimanded for it, my own Matron Mother... yes and High Priestess Velara was my first punisher."

[highpriest-zamel]

Zamel pours a purple liquid from a pitcher on the nightstand into the glass next to it. No, he wasn’t kind enough to think of it…Eowen left it hours ago.

“I can’t offer you Divine Dew, for obvious reasons, and I don’t keep extra stores. But you can have this.”

He holds the glass for his new curiosity. With his free hand, he flips through some notes of his.

“Do you recall the symptoms of the High Priestess’ magic? And how old you were? I am well aware of the feeling of stigmatization as a child and can easily compare it with my own experience.”

[highpriest-zamel]

continued from here \ @damelaylachirilth

—

Zamel finishes arranging the stigma schedule for the week and glances across the guest room, where he’s seated at the desk. A smaller writing space than his study, but effective enough.

Layla is still in bed, unconscious. Eowen has come in to tend her a few times, but he long dismissed the elder Essail for the night. He can handle this. He’s not concerned…of course not…just curious why his guard isn’t awake yet.

He sets his papers aright and wanders to the bedside. His eyebrows wrinkle. His hand checks Layla’s forehead for any signs of fever. Nothing.

“So troublesome. You’re going to force me into using my healing spell, aren’t you?”

[damelaylachirilth]

Ever unconcious, Layla stirred and gave a small groan of discomfort as she felt heat on her forehead. A soothing kind, that seemed to stave off the chill of the Stigma as she brought slowly back to the waking world.

Sore head. Dried tongue, exhaustion in the bones despite the long rest.

Her lashes fluttered slowly opened, yet vision was blurry as she slowly began to focus on the figure above her, with the most... beautiful dark, sad eyes...

"Wherh..." She coughed quietly, blinking and shutting eyes to block out the strength of the lamp.

[highpriest-zamel]

Zamel jerks his hand away as Layla wakes. No need to make things strange.

“Ah. You’re alive.”

He turns his back and wanders back to the desk, despite having finished most of his work already. After a moment, he speaks without eye contact. Quite the bedside manner the Terror has…

“You collapsed during my walk. Why?”

[damelaylachirilth]

"of course I'm alive, I thought priests were smart."

Grumpy enough to almost match his energy as she struggled to sit up, her head swimming as she groaned and laid back on the pillows, letting an arm fall over her face.

"What's her name, Priestess Annoying... has a tendency to exuberate the effects of the Stigma. One day for the populous is three for me."

[highpriest-zamel]

“Don’t sit up yet. I thought guards were supposed to be smart.”

Despite him throwing her comment back at her…one day worth three…now that’s intriguing. Without even trying, she’s caught his niche interest, despite the insult to the priesthood that would normally earn her a scolding.

He crosses the room again and hovers over her, permanent frown in place as always. He stares at her stigma as though he can get his answers by memorizing the mark he already knows. This newfound interest in Layla is conveyed in the best way possible…

“What do you mean by one day like three? It should all have the same effect. Explain. Now.”

Oh yeah. Nailed it.

[damelaylachirilth]

"ugh, just lower your voice, please..."

Still keeping her eyes closed to ignore the pounding in her head, she gave another groan.

"I dont become a Corrupted, thanks to my already corrupted bloodline. But I guess in a twist of fate, I feel the effects on my body far more strenuous. Aches, dizzy spells, and prone to fainting. Believe me, a Stigma to me is just as painful as a stigma to all. Call it blessing or curse, what I survive from full corruption, I suffer in the pain intensifying."

[highpriest-zamel]

“Fascinating…has it always been that way? Actually, don’t answer that yet.”

He hurries from the room, robe flowing behind him. He returns with three notebooks, two thick volumes, some assorted papers, and a writing utensil. Oh, Layla, what have you done…

He pulls up a chair and sits beside her.

“Now. Tell me. Does it worsen as you age? Improve? And who all has given you a stigma before? I imagine it happens often.”

[highpriest-zamel]

continued from here \ @damelaylachirilth

—

Zamel finishes arranging the stigma schedule for the week and glances across the guest room, where he’s seated at the desk. A smaller writing space than his study, but effective enough.

Layla is still in bed, unconscious. Eowen has come in to tend her a few times, but he long dismissed the elder Essail for the night. He can handle this. He’s not concerned…of course not…just curious why his guard isn’t awake yet.

He sets his papers aright and wanders to the bedside. His eyebrows wrinkle. His hand checks Layla’s forehead for any signs of fever. Nothing.

“So troublesome. You’re going to force me into using my healing spell, aren’t you?”

[damelaylachirilth]

Ever unconcious, Layla stirred and gave a small groan of discomfort as she felt heat on her forehead. A soothing kind, that seemed to stave off the chill of the Stigma as she brought slowly back to the waking world.

Sore head. Dried tongue, exhaustion in the bones despite the long rest.

Her lashes fluttered slowly opened, yet vision was blurry as she slowly began to focus on the figure above her, with the most... beautiful dark, sad eyes...

"Wherh..." She coughed quietly, blinking and shutting eyes to block out the strength of the lamp.

[highpriest-zamel]

Zamel jerks his hand away as Layla wakes. No need to make things strange.

“Ah. You’re alive.”

He turns his back and wanders back to the desk, despite having finished most of his work already. After a moment, he speaks without eye contact. Quite the bedside manner the Terror has…

“You collapsed during my walk. Why?”

[damelaylachirilth]

"of course I'm alive, I thought priests were smart."

Grumpy enough to almost match his energy as she struggled to sit up, her head swimming as she groaned and laid back on the pillows, letting an arm fall over her face.

"What's her name, Priestess Annoying... has a tendency to exuberate the effects of the Stigma. One day for the populous is three for me."

[highpriest-zamel]

“Don’t sit up yet. I thought guards were supposed to be smart.”

Despite him throwing her comment back at her…one day worth three…now that’s intriguing. Without even trying, she’s caught his niche interest, despite the insult to the priesthood that would normally earn her a scolding.

He crosses the room again and hovers over her, permanent frown in place as always. He stares at her stigma as though he can get his answers by memorizing the mark he already knows. This newfound interest in Layla is conveyed in the best way possible…

“What do you mean by one day like three? It should all have the same effect. Explain. Now.”

Oh yeah. Nailed it.

[highpriest-zamel]

continued from here \ @damelaylachirilth

—

Zamel finishes arranging the stigma schedule for the week and glances across the guest room, where he’s seated at the desk. A smaller writing space than his study, but effective enough.

Layla is still in bed, unconscious. Eowen has come in to tend her a few times, but he long dismissed the elder Essail for the night. He can handle this. He’s not concerned…of course not…just curious why his guard isn’t awake yet.

He sets his papers aright and wanders to the bedside. His eyebrows wrinkle. His hand checks Layla’s forehead for any signs of fever. Nothing.

“So troublesome. You’re going to force me into using my healing spell, aren’t you?”

[damelaylachirilth]

Ever unconcious, Layla stirred and gave a small groan of discomfort as she felt heat on her forehead. A soothing kind, that seemed to stave off the chill of the Stigma as she brought slowly back to the waking world.

Sore head. Dried tongue, exhaustion in the bones despite the long rest.

Her lashes fluttered slowly opened, yet vision was blurry as she slowly began to focus on the figure above her, with the most... beautiful dark, sad eyes...

"Wherh..." She coughed quietly, blinking and shutting eyes to block out the strength of the lamp.

[highpriest-zamel]

Zamel jerks his hand away as Layla wakes. No need to make things strange.

“Ah. You’re alive.”

He turns his back and wanders back to the desk, despite having finished most of his work already. After a moment, he speaks without eye contact. Quite the bedside manner the Terror has…

“You collapsed during my walk. Why?”

[highpriest-zamel]

continued from here \ @damelaylachirilth

—

Zamel finishes arranging the stigma schedule for the week and glances across the guest room, where he’s seated at the desk. A smaller writing space than his study, but effective enough.

Layla is still in bed, unconscious. Eowen has come in to tend her a few times, but he long dismissed the elder Essail for the night. He can handle this. He’s not concerned…of course not…just curious why his guard isn’t awake yet.

He sets his papers aright and wanders to the bedside. His eyebrows wrinkle. His hand checks Layla’s forehead for any signs of fever. Nothing.

“So troublesome. You’re going to force me into using my healing spell, aren’t you?”

[highpriest-zamel]

Zamel’s Journal 7.0

Writing in the guest room. Layla received her stigma today and collapsed during my morning round. Even unconscious, she finds a way to cause a problem. I suppose that’s the nature of her bloodline…though by no fault of her own.

She is still asleep here. Her home was far, and I know Eowen will offer the best care. If this persists, I can manage a healing spell. It’s been a few years since I’ve used it. The practice would be beneficial.

The brand of her stigma seems to glow on her face. I inspected the magic—Audei’s work is effective, if unimpressive. Maybe it interacts differently with Layla’s blood…or perhaps it simply contrasts differently with her skin’s warm tones. It might be worth further study...

At least she’s resting peacefully. No fever, color in her lips. And without any arguing or smart remarks, I can work peacefully while keeping a watch on her status. I’ll send word to High Priestess Ch’irilith of the situation so there’s no stir about her daughter, and hopefully by morning Layla will be roused and well again~

[damelaylachirilth]

@highpriest-zamel waits for Layla outside the Essail Altar. Other priests nod to him, citizens hurry past him with their eyes down. His frown is deeper than usual, and his index finger is tapping on his staff in impatience. Not only is he worried about Velara not taking the Toplander breach heavily, but now he’s going to be late for the rest of his duties thanks to Layla…

“Where is that girl? A stigma shouldn’t take so long. If she isn’t here in the next five…”

"I'm here I'm here, settle down I can sense the pressure.."

Layla gave an exhausted sigh despite her quip as she stepped down the stairs. Obediently she had reported her failure, and obediently she would endure the stigma for the next three days.

Didn't make it any less painful, nor exhausting, to endure. Bless her Matron for offering to 'accidently' turn her back on an 'excess' vial of Dew.

She rubbed her cheek where the Stigma itched.

[highpriest-zamel]

“Finally. Come. You know I dislike being behind schedule.”

Zamel starts stalking towards the city, his staff clinking in warning. He prays under his breath, pleading the Queen’s mercy over the corruption…so engrossed in his task that he barely notices Layla starting to slow down behind him…

[damelaylachirilth]

"Like you don't cause it yourself..."

She didn't give a damn if she offended him, or prolonged the Stigma on her. Her blood was usually a curse, but in this rare case it was a blessing.

It resisted being turned to Corruption. But the physical toll it took on her was... not ideal, so she still preferred to not be barred from consuming the disgusting liquid, gift from the Queen it was, she hated how foul it was.

her feet stumbled a bit, as she focused as much as she could on his back to keep her eyesight clear. Somewhat.

[highpriest-zamel]

Zamel ignores her comment, simply raising his prayers to the Queen to drown her out. But when he glances back and sees her stumble, he pauses and frowns.

"Don't try to earn my pity with foolish tricks. Walk straight or I'll go the rest of the way alone. I don't need you making a scene for attention."

[damelaylachirilth]

She started, and nearly gave herself whiplash as she jerked her head up to glare in his eyes.

"Damn you Lo... Lor..." Her tongue felt heavy as her vision gave up, forcing the scenery to become a blurry, nearly psychedelic experience.

Oh. She was tipping. She was sideways.

The stone floor ached as her temple fell against it, and she dimly was aware of noises around her before she was gone.

[highpriest-zamel]

“Layla!”

Zamel grumbles as he strides back to the fallen guard’s side, kneeling awkwardly. After shaking her shoulder, it’s clear that while she’s alive, she’s not waking up any time soon…

“Foolish girl…why didn’t you say something…”

He filters through his options. He can’t very well leave her here in the middle of the street. He could go get Ravion…but that would involve talking to Ravion, something Zamel is never eager to do. Or if there was another guard around…no. None close, and he’s concerned what a noble might do finding her like this…not to mention what someone might say of the priesthood if they witness him abandoning her.

His home is near the Altar, and it’s best to deal with this privately. His housekeeper, Eowen, can tend Layla while he continues his duties.

“You never make anything simple, do you?”

Zamel grumbles some more about how she better not corrupt him before tucking his staff under his arm and carefully scooping Layla up into his arms. Though not as lithe as most Essail, her small form is light to him, and he can easily make it home. He prays no one witnesses this…

—

An hour or so later, and Layla is set up in the manor’s guest room, one of his servants tending her. Zamel makes one final check before heading out to finish his duties for the day…this time, including a prayer for Layla’s recovery…even if she doesn’t deserve it.

[damelaylachirilth]

@highpriest-zamel waits for Layla outside the Essail Altar. Other priests nod to him, citizens hurry past him with their eyes down. His frown is deeper than usual, and his index finger is tapping on his staff in impatience. Not only is he worried about Velara not taking the Toplander breach heavily, but now he’s going to be late for the rest of his duties thanks to Layla…

“Where is that girl? A stigma shouldn’t take so long. If she isn’t here in the next five…”

"I'm here I'm here, settle down I can sense the pressure.."

Layla gave an exhausted sigh despite her quip as she stepped down the stairs. Obediently she had reported her failure, and obediently she would endure the stigma for the next three days.

Didn't make it any less painful, nor exhausting, to endure. Bless her Matron for offering to 'accidently' turn her back on an 'excess' vial of Dew.

She rubbed her cheek where the Stigma itched.

[highpriest-zamel]

“Finally. Come. You know I dislike being behind schedule.”

Zamel starts stalking towards the city, his staff clinking in warning. He prays under his breath, pleading the Queen’s mercy over the corruption…so engrossed in his task that he barely notices Layla starting to slow down behind him…

[damelaylachirilth]

"Like you don't cause it yourself..."

She didn't give a damn if she offended him, or prolonged the Stigma on her. Her blood was usually a curse, but in this rare case it was a blessing.

It resisted being turned to Corruption. But the physical toll it took on her was... not ideal, so she still preferred to not be barred from consuming the disgusting liquid, gift from the Queen it was, she hated how foul it was.

her feet stumbled a bit, as she focused as much as she could on his back to keep her eyesight clear. Somewhat.

[highpriest-zamel]

Zamel ignores her comment, simply raising his prayers to the Queen to drown her out. But when he glances back and sees her stumble, he pauses and frowns.

"Don't try to earn my pity with foolish tricks. Walk straight or I'll go the rest of the way alone. I don't need you making a scene for attention."