Call for a New Witness

Context: Alarin stepped down from being guild leader of the Archons to pursue the Crown of Celest. Then Calfuray contested the empty GL spot, and Gurashi IMMEDIATELY contested the contest, and then Calfuray dropped out, leaving only Gurashi for the entirety of the election. Gurashi won because... no contention. So. Gurashi is now GL! And was doing ok Star Council-wise handling things. They wanted to show they had their own hopes of who would represent the guild, and so they first thought of Misericorde! This was the subsequent result of the request <3 This lady is scary as heckity @_@

~~~~

Dear Misericorde,

Hello! It is me, Gurashi, the new Herald of the Archons of Dawning Hope.

I am writing to you, be-cause as a Heralds I am going to needs a Witness, because I am not able to do both. You have been a member of the Archons for a longly time, perhaps from the very beginning. While we do not talks very often, I do respects you and feels your opinions for guild matters would be invaluables.

I do not know if you feels up to the task, and understand if it does not call to you at this times, but you were the firstly persons I thought of as the elections drew near to an end. Please let met know if this interests you.

Thank you and be well,
[in a practiced but still messy scrawl]
Gurashi

~~~~~
<-- Misericorde sends a message saying 'tentative yes', so Gurashi was eager to meet with her. A few IRL days pass...

(Celest): Misericorde says, "Greetings."

(Celest): You say, "Good afternoon!"

Your melodic voice sings into Misericorde Coldwater, Deepwater Guide's mind, "I gots your messages! Will you be waking for very long this months? I was hoping would gets to speaks with you this weaves, if amenable."

The cold voice of Misericorde sends chills down your spine, "I am free, presently, if you are able?"

Your melodic voice sings into Misericorde Coldwater, Deepwater Guide's mind, "Ah! I need perhaps less than a quarter of a day, not even, and I could find you by thens?"

Your melodic voice sings into Misericorde Coldwater, Deepwater Guide's mind, "Probably closer to ... five minutes."

The cold voice of Misericorde sends chills down your spine, "I should be available."

Your melodic voice sings into Misericorde Coldwater, Deepwater Guide's mind, "Where shall I finds you?"

The cold voice of Misericorde sends chills down your spine, "How does the Dovecote sound?"

Your melodic voice sings into Misericorde Coldwater, Deepwater Guide's mind, "That sounds just fine, yes! I will be there soonly!"

<-- things and stuff

Your melodic voice sings into Misericorde Coldwater, Deepwater Guide's mind, "You are still there? I will be headed to the places, yes."

The cold voice of Misericorde sends chills down your spine, "I am here, yes."

<--nyoom
The dovecote.
This location is flooded with shallow, crystal clear water. The western wall of the compound rises several stories high, and is riddled with circular doors reached by a dizzying array of steps and ledges. A small plaque set to the side of each door bears the name of the family who has made that chamber their temporary home. A few of the doors hang open, their plaques empty and unclaimed. These open doors reveal the small, tidy chamber within, decorated with colourful mats and cushions for sitting or sleeping. The adobe walls have hooks awaiting belongings and decorations. At a distance, the effect is much like that of a dovecote, for which the entire compound has been christened.
You see exits leading east (open door) and south.

LOOKIT ME
The being standing before you exudes friendly energy, standing several inches shy of six feet tall with an athletic build. They are an ordinary human kindly demigod changeling. Their arms and legs are sinewy, the muscles in their upper body evidence of recent training efforts. Their calloused hands are constantly in motion, either loosely balled into fists at their side or resting on their instrument. Their most prominent three knuckles of their right hand are faintly scarred, pale star-shapes etched across their flesh. Their sandy skin has been tanned from repeated exposure to the sun, causing an array of tawny-colored freckles to appear upon their round cheeks and thin, upturned nose. A hint of discolored flesh can be seen near the center of their sternum, mostly obscured by their clothing. A moderately-sized, crescent-shaped scar mars their right cheek. Perhaps the most noteworthy thing about them is their untamed mop of fiery red hair, complete with a few strands at their part that fail to obey the natural laws of gravity. A shock of bone-white hair has grown in along their temple. A pair of kind gray-blue eyes gaze out from below red bangs, their color striking against all the surrounding warm hues. Two still-healing tendril-like scars akin to burns wind their way up the human's hands, marring their knuckles, the backs of their hands, and ending finally before the elbow. Great wings of ethereal metal emerge from their upper back, raining motes of copper-hued energy that dissipate with the hum of Mysrai, the Beckoner Beyond the Maze's truefavour. A steel-hued scar traces along their cheek, gifted by Terentia, the Even Bladed, for their mettle in the field of battle. Soothing mists of water and light weave about them in a sparkling white veil, marking the truefavour of Lantra, the Empyreal.
They are wearing:
a starry wreath of celestial light set atop their head like a halo
a circlet of crystal thorns resting loosely atop their head
a vivid red-orange poppy tucked lovingly behind their left ear
a sunset cloak of the darkening sea which hangs majestically off-center from their right shoulder
the Mantle of Starlight which flows dreamily about their shoulders and back
a breezy blue cotton tunic which hangs flatteringly from their form
mercurial Mysraian prayer beads pulled taut against their right wrist
a Glomdoring friendship bracelet which jingles softly on their left wrist
minty citrus incense beads pulled taut against their right wrist
aromatic cedar and cinnamon incense beads pulled taut against their right wrist
an abyssal sandstorm poppy worn delicately upon their left wrist
a driftwood ring of sea breezes fitted tightly to their left middle finger
a pair of black trousers bearing silver stars which fit their shape nicely
Refined Boots of the Paladin, worn and weathered from use.

Your melodic voice sings into Misericorde Coldwater, Deepwater Guide's mind, "Ah - the, uh, Dovecote?"

The cold voice of Misericorde sends chills down your spine, "Mhm. You may teleport if you wish."

You breathe in deeply through a sun-kissed nose, taking in the scent of your surroundings.
You make out the scent of Misericorde coming from the Hall of Perseverance.

<y-- Nyoom!!
The Hall of Perseverance.
This location is flooded with shallow, crystal clear water. Tall, narrow windows along one wall allow sunlight to stream through, illuminating the simple artworks displayed opposite. Along the length of the hall hangs an assortment of paintings and plaques, honouring a variety of compassionate persons who exemplify the soul of the Archons. Depictions of humbly garbed saints reside among notable Archons past and present, with brass plaques detailing their charitable contributions to the community. A circular stairway winds away both upwards and downwards. In the shape of an open palm, a metallic sigil lies here. A sigil in the shape of a small, rectangular monolith is on the ground. A sea-green kelpie drifts here as though underwater, the air thick with the warm scent of the sea.
You see exits leading east, west, up, and down.

Bright and clear, you say, "Oh."

Bright and clear, you say, "You were just inside, I was just downstairs."

Your eyes raise to the heavens as a look of hope flashes across your face.

Misericorde Coldwater, Deepwater Guide says, "My apologies for not being clearer."

You have emoted: Gurashi smiles apologetically, folding their hands before themselves. "How are you?"

LOOKIT SHE
Her dusky complexion rivalling the palette of a gathering storm in sere and thunderous tincts of tarnished pewter, she is a noble imperial merian abyssal demigoddess. Her eyes are the precise hue of a ship caught aflame, their beguiling amber harbouring haunting notes of warmth before the moment it is extinguished, like glowing embers upon the beams before they sink into the tempestuous depths of the ocean. Though her countenance is one of empyrean refinement, her upswept cheekbones and the soft contours of her bowed lips are spoiled wholly by the writhing tentacles that comprise her nontraditional tresses. Black as pitch and constantly ashift in a mass of entropic coils, the underside of each of these grasping tendrils fades into a muted haint blue, while luminescent suckers of cerulean ornament each lock. Strewn with innumerous black pearls and incandescent glimmers of gold leaf, this seemingly incomprehensible mane shifts the rich adornments around seemingly at will; never remaining in the same place overlong, the tentacles spill down nearly to her waist and occasionally twine about her arms or shoulders. A steel-hued scar traces along her cheek, gifted by Terentia, the Even Bladed, for her mettle in the field of battle. Soothing mists of water and light weave about her in a sparkling white veil, marking the truefavour of Lantra, the Empyreal.
She is wearing:
a bewitching golden pearl stud through her upper lip in a medusa piercing
a pearlescent aspergillum tied at her hip, its billowing sea mist obscuring her feet
a wedding ring of swirling eels encircling a stygian black pearl on her index finger
a diaphanous silk gown of stormy teal waves split at the sides, granting fleeting views of the gills splitting between her ribs
a blue-ringed octopus bracelet wrought from copper.

Bizirik, the leothin snorts.

Misericorde clasps her hands behind her back, her gaze settling heavily upon you as they speak. "Better, now that a traitor and spy has been rooted out from the city." She pauses a moment, and adds, "Finally." With a tilt of her head she then inquires politely, "Yourself?"

You have emoted: Gurashi's gaze drifts upwards at the mention of the 'traitor', puffing their cheeks as they exhale. "Yeah you are telling -me-." Then, they shyly bow their head and lift it again, offering the merian a polite smile. "I am O-K. I have had better days, but ah. I thinks am... settling into Herald-ing alright. Already had to deal with a couple Star Council-y things!" They bob their head side to side. "I am O-K, many thank yous. Uhm."

Looking up, you say to Misericorde, "You said, a tentative yes in your reply to my letters, yes. I agree we should talk, yes. Guild visions, and, things." They wring their scarred hands together. "It stood out to me muchly that you reached out during the elections to me, to find out my reasonings for running, since Miss Calfuray had uh. Yes."

Misericorde states simply, "Leadership is not easy, and those who tell you it is are either lying or a poor leader themselves." Her weight shifts absently. "I admit to being bewildered as to why there was an election with no post. Learning Calfuray contested cleared that up quickly, however." Looking thoughtful for a moment she then says, "You did not seem truly interested in holding the position the last time you ran."

You have emoted: Gurashi shakes their head, chewing on their lip. "There is something very daunting about a 'leadership' positions..." They knit their brow together, watching the merian opposite them, trying to ignore the sounds of their leothin as it decides now is the perfect time to begin grooming. "I really wasn't. It is ah. I have always viewed myselfs as more of a ... supports, persons. Supports the actions of another... but, ah."

You have emoted: Gurashi reaches up to rub the back of their neck. "Sometimes are times when must take actions. Between how Miss Calfuray's situations was handled, and Mister Alarin contesting for the Crowns... It was hards to sends letters and waits." They quirk their mouth to the side. "Incredibly frustratings, at times. Like yelling into the nights with nobody listening, yes. Did not likes it. Do not want leaders to be thought of like that. Do not want to be a leaders like that."

You fidget impatiently.

You have emoted: Gurashi shyly lifts their gaze back to Misericorde, quirking their mouth to the other side now.

Misericorde's gaze rakes heavily over your features as they speak, her expression impassive. "I see," she answers. Then, "Do you have questions for me before we begin?"

You have emoted: Gurashi furrows their brow, then shakes their head. "Ah, uhm. I do not know. I do not know if there is any sorts of protocols for this sorts of things. Mister Alarin just sort of announced me as Witnesses, so I... would rather hear about your thinks, thoughts. Begin?" They cant their head to the side. "I will confess to newness and inexperience but willingnesses to learn."

You think to yourself: *a distinctly nervous thrum, their hands feel stiff and icy - a goodly job, must do a goodly job*.

Misericorde answers calmly, "The purpose of the Witness as to be the second in command of the guild. When the Herald was unable to be present, the Witness became the automatic representative when needed - though that is not to say that Star Council votes defaulted to the Witness when the Herald was unavailable. Their purpose is to ensure the guild functions smoothly and keep files in line as needed. They are both the face and voice of the Archons as much as the Herald."

You nod your head emphatically.
You nod your head emphatically.

You have emoted: Gurashi swallows hard as they listen to Misericorde, nodding from time to time in gentle agreement. "That is, ah. Well - it certainly makes sense for a positions intended to be for secondly-in-commands, yes..."

You tilt your head and listen intently to Misericorde.

Misericorde's expression turns briefly thoughtful as she continues, "They are Hope when the Herald possesses none. Our work is not easy. It is backbreaking and requires a fortitude not possessed by the majority of the population."

Misericorde asks bluntly, "Why did you join the city of New Celest, Gurashi? I know it was not for love of the Light. It recall the application and was frankly against it."

You have emoted: Gurashi nods a few times more as Misericorde explains, pressing their fingertips together as they fidget and wait. At the question, they perk up, blinking a few times, unable to mask their surprise. "Oh..."

Misericorde levels an impassive gaze upon you.

You have emoted: Gurashi trails off, their gaze slightly crestfallen. "...I see. Yes. I could, understand why, yes." They look down towards their boots, studying the scuffed toes of each of them as they carefully collect their words. "I promised, when I took my Salted Oaths, that I would only speaks the Truths, yes." They look up at last to Misericorde. "And in Truths, when I came to this city, it was for refuge. Be-cause, I wanted to go back to the Glomdoring, then. Be-cause, I wanted my family to want me back more than anything else, and they had been such longly allies of the Light, yes. The Light and Shadows..." They trail off, shoulders rising as they take a deep breath, frowning. "That was how felt, back then, yes."

Soft susurrations fill the air as Misericorde quietly observes you. "Do you think it was appropriate to apply under such a charade? ".

You have emoted: Gurashi stares intently at Misericorde at the next question, their gray eyes studying the merian's own amber ones. "It was a confusing times. No, I do not thinks it was appropriates." Their hand tremors until they clasp them together again. "But would be lie to say am not also grateful, it was not rejected."

Golden shades radiate from your chest and your heart beats faster with newly-appeared determination.

Misericorde holds your gaze unwaveringly, her fire-bright eyes aflame with an unspoken emotion. "I am uncertain I would call it confusing, so much as desperation," she states with a shrug. "But I am not you." Her throat clearing, she asks, "How do you rationalize serving a Divine with no connections nor interest in the Light or New Celest?"

The Mantle of Starlight flows gently against your form, twinkling stars shifting across its surface as the starry infinity continues its eternal motion.

You have emoted: Gurashi's expression changes, growing guiltier at this assessment. With the newest question they straighten a little, their fingers lacing together so tightly their knuckles are pale. "My Most Beloved's interests do not conflict with those of the city, no. I serves Thems, as a spreader of the Order's most importantly messages: Love, and Will." They frown. "And I Choose to be goodly, and do all that I can in Love. In many ways the Light reaffirms the things that Love already offers, yes. Compassions and Fortitudes, bravery for others. Creating a kinder worlds ... helps makes a." They scrunch their face, seeking the words they so desperately want. "Ah, words. If I felt, ah, that the Most Beloved and the teachings of the Light were too at-odds then I would have never even thoughts of coming here." They stare back at Misericorde intently now.

Misericorde asks lightly, "So because, at present, the Thousand-fold does not hold enmity for New Celest you are content in New Celest... But should that change you will leave the city for you Divine?" Her eyebrow quirks sharply as she assesses, "Is my assessment correct?"

With a frown, you say to Misericorde, "I Love the Lights. I Love the Ladies who protects it." They frown. "And I Love my Most Beloved. I owe all of Thems so muchly. Would do all I coulds to see that not happens. I do not know how, why, that would ever happens. But I would sooner burns to a crispy charcoals be-fore let that happen."

Misericorde snaps sharply, "That is a deflection, Gurashi. Please do not insult me with such."

You have emoted: Gurashi quickly swallows, looking down as if in a daze. "My apologies, uhm."

Misericorde repeats for your benefit, "Should the Thousand-fold go against New Celest, which will you choose?"

You have emoted: Gurashi seems to be grappling with this question for a long while, staring back at Misericorde, practically withering under the merian's gaze. "The rightest one," They settle for at last. "Whichever would be, the rightest, for the mostest peoples. Be-cause ultimately I must bring Hopes." Their voice wavers at this. "I would Choose the rightest thing."

You have emoted: Gurashi frowns, standing up a little taller after they have spoken, exhaling loudly as they do.

You think to yourself: ... courage ...

Misericorde's expression openly slips into a sneer at the reply. "You have chosen to insult me again with another deflection," she replies with open contempt. "There are two choices available to you and you cannot even pick one? Do you think that answer clever? That you will be 'right'? You chose this home under false pretence, state you are grateful, and then will not even commit when posed with a hypothetical?" The tentacles upon Misericorde's head susurrate angrily, a shifting void framing her livid features.

You tilt your head, gaze softening as you frown.

You have emoted: Gurashi looks down again towards their boots. "I apologize," They say again quickly, quietly. "I-I do not mean to insults. I have never done wells, w-with." They do not finish the thought, interrupting instead with: "My Most Beloved." They settle at last, hands clenched tight at their chest, fingers brushing the undersides of a labyrinthine, shifting poppy as they stare at Misericorde, their earlier enthusiasm completely fled. "I am sorry, a-gain. F-for deflections. That was very unkindly, rudely of me. Un-Archon-ly of me."

You think to yourself: *suddenly they are back in the forest, trying to grapple with the concept: why can't it be both, why does everyone... a helplessness, a sinking feeling*.

You think to yourself: *this will not be good*.

Misericorde answers icily, "Yes, it was." She continues with little pause, "If that is your answer then I cannot serve with you. I will not sully myself with split devotions - and I do not deserve to be placed in such a position that my own loyalty is in question. New Celest and the Light certainly do not deserve it."

Misericorde says without warmth, "Thank you for finally giving me an answer."

Quietly, you say, "Many thank yous for your considerations."

Misericorde looks coldly over you, her voice impassive as she says in her departure, "A continued disappointment."

You sense the passage of Misericorde to the down with a fluffy pair of ursine ears.

You have emoted: Gurashi's jaw sets, entire being trembling despite their hands tightly grasping one another, wide eyed as they gaze at the stairs where the merian descended.

You think to yourself: *a withering sensation, what kind of question -was- that, why is it always black and white when the world is so -gray-*.

You think to yourself: *their heart leaps into their throat, eyes burning with tears*.

You think to yourself: *the merian's words continue to ring in their head, gripping their insides, making their legs feel weak - "A continued disappointment."*.

A labyrinthine, shifting poppy begins to vibrate silently before its petals suddenly fold inwards. Just as suddenly the petals begin to unfurl again this time being the colour of brilliant saffron.

You have emoted: Gurashi hiccups quietly, lifting both hands to their face as they tuck into a quiet recess, earnestly trying to work through their tears. Beside them, Bizirik creeps closer, gently nosing the human's hip.

Finally regaining some of their composure, you say, "S-sorry. Sorry... w-we can be done, yes."

Bizirik, the leothin tilts her head and listens intently to you.

You think to yourself: *a quavering feeling, a sinking feeling - is Misericorde going to tell people they are some sort of traitor? are they one? they haven't -done- anything yet but does that mean they are going to? they suddenly feel queasy*.

You close your eyes and inhale deeply, absorbing the scent of your surroundings.

You let loose a long breath from your lungs, exhaling slowly.

You think to yourself: *gentle negation, firmer negation - no... they Choose to be Good*.

You think to yourself: *and then again, all at once - m i s e r a b l e*.

You have emoted: Gurashi lets out a trembling exhale, gripping the fabric of their tunic. "Is fine," They say slowly, reluctantly. "...is..."

Pale gold in hue, the wreath about your brow shimmers in a steady pattern, like unto a heartbeat in its gentle pulsation, crowning you in a flickering halo before settling still once more.

Golden shades radiate from your chest and your heart beats faster with newly-appeared determination.

A wave of starlit warmth and benevolence washes over you, coursing through your link to the Pool of Stars as it shines all the brighter for New Celest's championing of the Light throughout the First World.

You think to yourself: *an earnest desire to do a good job, but now their head is foggy, so much so they want nothing more than to rest - but...*.

You have emoted: Gurashi palms at their face a few times to wipe away the newest onslaught of tears, exhaling. "O-K."