Jordan Eliott
Jordan took a moment to admire the dark metal of the pipe organ she’d grown so familiar with playing. The instument stood out against the stark white stone walls. Her amber gaze drifted over the pipes in awe as though it were her first time looking upon their grand stature.
The priestess closed her eyes and pushed up her glasses with her ring and middle fingers on the corners of the cherry frames, brushed her raven hair behind her shoulder, and slid herself onto the center of the hard wooden bench without so much as a creak.
The Gilnean's leather-clad fingers slowly traced over the tiers of ivory keys and she pressed a boot down to feel a pedal fall to the floor. She adjusted the old, hand-inked, sheet music just so with a small nudge of her hand.
Jordan tilted her head back and took in a long and pleasureful breath. The scent of the wooden frame was intoxicating.
The old bench held silent and strong as Jordan straightened her back, almost curving into an arch. The leather of her gloves creaked as she tightened them on her hands and flexed her fingers before resting them in place along the ivory once more.
The inquisitor took in one more deep breath; as she released it, her fingers would press leather to ivory in a swift and sure motion...
The halls of the Stormwind Cathedral would flood with the heavy note. It would reach the deepest depths of the catacombs and the highest heights of the bell tower.
Sister Eliott’s fingers danced over the keys like a sudden and strong gust of wind. Her body was sturdy and strong like a marble statuette.
The powerful, surging, waves of notes would fill the halls with a relentless current of music! The sound would whirlpool in the main hall with the force of a typhoon!
Jordan’s gaze was steadfast. She could feel the breeze between her leather-clad digits as they struck like lightning against the ivory keys.
Each push of a key added another drop to the swelling ocean of sound. The tide would rise with each stroke, with each turn of the melody and fluctuation in tempo.
The inquisitor's rapidly moving fingers took the rhythm to heights far above the cathedral towers in a steadily growing pace before she let the wave of resonance crash down upon the city in a climactic tidal wave of reverberation.
Jordan threw her head back and held the final, harsh, note for a moment more. She’d nearly lurch forward and loom over the keys as the melody would turn again. The tempo slowed and the beat evened.
The tide would begin to recede with a string of slow and steady, reverberating, notes. As quickly as the cathedral halls were filled, they were drained.
Sister Eliott took in heavy breaths as leather lifted from ivory to comb the digits through her hair. Her heart pounded in her chest, slowly beginning to settle as the final echo of sound evaporated.