#deamaurea

Her form was near translucent, a literal ghost of who she previously was. Long golden tresses curled down nearly to her knees, each lock somehow neatly in place, and her only garb was a dress that was little more than a simple white shift. The bottom of it was stained a worn and faded off white shade that hinted to blood once upon a time, but... time itself had washing it away. 

She was still radiant though. Somehow, even as faded and not there as she was, there was a glow about her that spoke to the strength and power that she had. That she... once had.

She was just a ghost now. Less than that, even. Sitting perched on a dusty fallen pillar, she could have been missed if she was anywhere but here. Here, in a temple that was nothing but darkness. Here, in a temple where light didn’t exist.

Except for her, now.

“Hm... You’re not from around here, are you?”

THINGS THAT ARE HARD TO HEAR | @deamaurea

The goddess was a cold, imposing, dispassionate figure that towered above Impa’s fallen form. Vaguely, distantly, Impa was aware that it was an honor that she had taken form to appear to her. It was an honor that she was able to lay eyes on the matron Goddess of the sheikah tribe. Few had ever been graced by her appearance and only the tribal leaders before her had ever spoken with her. 

Impa now understood why their meetings with the great goddess were hushed and kept secret. There had been no delusions that the Goddess of Death would be kind, caring, compassionate, but the cruel, detached figure who had deemed her ‘worthy’ before tearing her back open.

The wound would heal. It was scar, but that was the point. It was meant to be a permanent reminder of her servitude to the Goddess, as well as a focal point and conduit for her... blessing.

She struggled to get to her feet, consciousness swaying from pain and bloodloss mixed together. Impaz’s words felt distant and far away, but they punctured through the haze that had clouded her senses. 

Holding onto things...

One hand slowly clenched into a fist as she pushed herself into an unsteady kneeling position, head bow and gaze dutifully averted from her goddess. There was a price to obtaining this status, and the longer she took to accept it the more it would hurt.