Dec 3, 2018
divinity | open
The stone felt cold beneath her knees as Sonya knelt, her hands pressed against the base of the marble sculpture.
Above her, the serene face of Mila gazed onward, sight always set on the horizon. The people of Zofia called her the Mother, and believed her to be a compassionate goddess.
Duma has never been a benefactor to her. Though she’d never been a woman of the cloth, in times like this she could muster up a prayer.
So much war. If Duma held no love for her, perhaps Mila did.
Finally she rose, the click of her heels echoing around the chamber. She raised an eyebrow as she turned, increasingly aware of a gaze on her back.
“Yes? Is there something you need?”