I am the nothing you have saved.

[darkenedmoon]

who:  Yotsuyu and...maybe you?
what: The witch has discovered that the knight is missing.
where:  Temple of Raida grounds
when:  Any time during the first week of November really
warnings:   Well, Yotsuyu has a temper, so that's worth a warning...



It was useless scurrying, was it? As if she were some sort of rodent. From one edge of the island to the other, from one end of the campus grounds to the other. Searching, endlessly searching, but not finding. She did not want to admit the truth, Yotsuyu did not, but in the end? The truth was nothing but impossible to dismiss, impossible to ignore.

Hendrik was gone.

She sat in the courtyard of the temple, head bowed, back against a young sapling. In her lap, she cradled a sheathed dagger, one hand clasped on the hilt. And yet, she only held it, eyes downcast.
Yotsuyu had nothing to say...but despite that, a bitter laugh escaped her, and she bowed her head.

Comments

[darkenedmoon]

Yotsuyu had heard someone approaching, but had paid little mind. There were priests and priestesses making their way through the temple, after all. She was not here to bother them, simply to mourn and hopefully, not be too much of a nuisance as she did so.

Raida was supposed to be a benevolent goddess, after all. As much as one could be, to such as she, Yotsuyu supposed.

But she was not expecting company, and glanced up to see Mr. Fell as he settled himself and laid his hand over hers. Nonetheless, she offered him a smile--a smile that was small and sad, true, but one that said wordlessly that she was glad to see him.

[temptationaccomplished]

Comfort was not his strength, though for her, he gladly made an effort. Whatever her actual intentions were for that dagger in her lap--sentiment or action--just the presence of it frightened Aziraphale. Yotsuyu, more than anyone else here, had been his friend and confidante. She was his only true confidante here, even if he had never necessarily been the same to her. Their time together was cherished and he knew, someday, all too likely either he or she would be faced with the other's untimely disappearance. But he was a selfish angel. He did not want her to leave today.

Especially since he knew that death awaited her back home.

He watched the priests and priestesses, the other parishioners, and let the gentle murmur of prayer wash over him. And though Aziraphale had never quite come to terms with these foreign gods, he silently said a prayer to whoever would listen--his own God, or Raida or some other great entity somewhere in the cosmos: a prayer for her and for the man she had been unwillingly separated from. That they might be safe, and find happiness, and if they truly desired it, that someday they might be reunited.

After a very long time, he turned to her and said softly, "My dear. If you should like to talk--I am always here for you."