Martyred Beauty

Martyred Beauty

Postby Glenn » Fri Sep 06, 2013 1:15 am

She drifted through the streets of Myrkentown, revered, pitied, envied. Of the swain, of the Favored, she was unlike all others. She had suffered, directly, in the service of Myrken Wood. Oh, people had faced hardship, but this was something else, something even more dire. Her beauty had been tarnished.

Eliza Jacobson was not just a prophet; she was a living idol. She wore her veils and blessed the good works of the Foundation, gave credence to the beautification efforts of the populace. Beneath those endlessly black veils, if one could see, there would be flecks of gold interweaved with her ruined, burnt skin. Her veils had once been gold, a fashion statement in deference to her Lady. Then the fire came. Now they were a part of her, veils over veils, the woman beneath them reduced to an idea, a symbol. She represented the Lady's dark period after she had lost her hand. She represented the good she had done in creating the Foundation despite all of her own personal pain. She represented the past and she represented the future.

Despite her pain and her loss and her hardship, she drifted through town, blessing the good works. Underneath that veil, though it pained her, she smiled. When she did, those around her, those who works she blessed, could almost feel the change in the air. The Lady was pleased, and thus they were as well.
Glenn
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