Day 4 -- Threading the Needle

"Her knees trembled as she stood up before the council.  She thought about running out and leaving it all behind, but the thought of that poor boy urged her to speak."

I have to admit that I love writing female characters.  In fact, I find it ridiculously hard to write male characters at all; so, ...if we ever get to that lesson, you all can laugh at my abysmal attempts to create a believable male.

Today's prompt is not an easy one, especially since I really want to write more about my World of Warcraft characters.  I've been trying to get them into a good place for a while, and for the moment, most of their stories have stalled.  You got a chance to meet Rose in our last WoW story, but today, I think I want to introduce you all to Ren--her sister.

This character is actually where I came up with the name Syrenity (it has the word siren in it, which I absolutely loved the idea of--especially since Ren likes to sing).  But the diminutive of her name is Ren--or wren, if you want to give her name the bird spelling.  Wrens are tiny birds--but they have an inordinate amount of strength for being so tiny.  Also, wren's eggs are just the most beautiful shades of blue ever.

While Rose is a rogue, our Ren is a priestess--trained in the ways of the Light.  And today's prompt gives me a chance to explore where she is as a character now, as well as driving home some memories from her past.

I hope you enjoy reading about her as much as I have enjoyed writing about, and playing, her.


Threading the Needle

It was a rare privilege to stand before the collected knowledge and wisdom of the Bishop's Council, but it was also intimidating--those many eyes gazing upon her with what should have been kindly benevolence, but actually felt more like annoyance and disdain.  Ren was only an ordained priestess, and her current role as liaison to the Order of the Penitent Blade hadn't won her any accolades.  Ever since her work with the Society, the Church and its leaders had sought to ensure that she remained as out of the way as possible.  And if it hadn't been for the sake of the Order and that of a young boy lately imprisoned in the Stockades, she'd likely have been just about anywhere else.

In fact, if she'd had her own way, this wouldn't have even been something worthy of the Council's attention, and this wouldn't have been something that even needed to be petitioned.  But this young man was a special case; condemned by the words of a senior templar of the Church, she now had to seek the Council's permission to have him removed from the Stockades and into the care of the Order.

He had done little to warrant the harsh treatment, though the templar had declared the young boy a heretic--wielding the powers of darkness to destroy the primacy of the Light.  It was ridiculous, of course--most children experiencing their first taste of power when they were around the boy's age.  And while he'd only wanted the templar's blessing, tendrils of shadow had wrapped themselves around the templar's feet, keeping him from departing when he'd turned away from the boy's request.

But it had been enough to condemn him--enough that the templar's order was calling for the boy's execution.

"Priestess Syrenity...you wished to say something?"

Bishop Farthing arched a brow at her before letting it fall--a sure indication that if she were going to say something, she'd better do so now.

Swallowing, she inclined her head to him.  "Forgive me, your grace.  The matter which I wish to discuss involves a young boy.  You may know of him--Thomas."

She paused, glancing around at the stoic and, in some cases, disinterested faces of those gathered around the meeting table.  A sense of futility began to gnaw away at her as she eyed them, and so she drew in a deep breath, letting go of it softly--hoping it would push away that sense of despair.  She then licked her lips before continuing, returning her gaze to Bishop Farthing since he, at least, seemed to be invested in her case.

"One of the Church's many orders recently condemned him for heresy--his use of Shadow branding him a traitor to the Light.  But," she paused, glancing around again, her breaths shallower than she'd have liked, and her voice sounding more desperate than she'd intended.  "...I believe that the boy had no true knowledge of the powers he invoked that day.  He is, after all, of an age when power presents itself, and left unguided--"

One of the other Bishops interrupted her--Bishop Cross.  "While he may not have known what he was doing, use of the Shadow is a sure sign that he has all ready been corrupted, Priestess Syrenity.  Surely you aren't asking us to overlook that in favor of ...what is it exactly you're wanting us to do?"

His tone had been snide, his expression dismissive, and she knew without a doubt that this man held with the templars' verdict.  Anger stirred within her, almost catching in her eyes, though she quickly bowed her head in a show of humility.  Light save her if they ever saw the truth of her feelings.  She might well be condemned a heretic herself, though she'd no doubt that in Bishop Cross' eyes, she all ready was for her work with the Penitent Blade.

"Forgive me, your grace," she replied, steadying her thoughts and her feelings before raising her gaze
once more, her green eyes settling on Cross.  She had to swallow down her first inclination for speech--which was to tell the man she'd been getting to that point before he'd so rudely interrupted her.  But this was the Bishop's Council--and this was the gathered wisdom and knowledge of the Church.  And she was supposed to be one of its devout arms--a priestess bound by its rules and its teachings.

"I was hoping that as holy men and women of the Church, you might find it within you to grant this boy mercy.  He is young still, his future yet unformed, and his ways not yet set.  If the Order of the Penitent Blade might be allowed to take him in, I believe that we may yet be able to show him the errors of his way and bring him once more into the Light."

She paused only a moment before continuing.  "And so I would like to bring our petition forward to the Council for due consideration in this matter."

So saying, she laid down on the table a bit of parchment that Sir Caerad had penned after hearing her accounting of the tale.  It held the Order's desired terms and conditions regarding Thomas' case.   She then offered a formal inclination of her head to those gathered, offering a respectful, "Thank you, your graces."

It would buy the boy some time, if nothing else--the sentence for his execution would be stayed until the Council had reviewed the petition.  Still, as she was shown from the Council chamber, she glanced back to find Bishop Cross eyeing her with a frown.  Looking away, she felt certain that he would be working hard to do everything he could to destroy every vestige of power that the Penitent Blade had gained--and perhaps to destroy the Order all together.

Over my dead body, she thought, then wondered if Bishop Cross might seek to make that silent threat a reality.

Her stomach in knots, she headed down to the main chapel to find what solace she could in prayer.  With any hope the Council would seek mercy in Thomas' case, but she knew that going against the templar order would earn neither she nor the Blade any friends today.

Light pray they drown in their own darkness, she thought, before sadness and guilt tugged at her soul.  There had been a time after all, when she had been a part of something that could have stopped such cruelty and carelessness from becoming a bedrock of the Church.  But those days were long-since passed; she had to do what she could now and not dwell on what was gone.