#reymanaud

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She should’ve returned the Fury’s Looking-Glass back to its striking configuration. With its focus spread into a crystalline web of defensive aether, glowing on her back like a jagged block of new-blown glass, she was too recognizable. Gloved hands passed purposefully-loud whispers behind them; veiled eyes stared openly. 

“There she is, Raphael’s strangest daughter.”

“Nothing like her uncle Alberic. A shame...or, perhaps, a blessing.”

“Going to apologize to the Fury, I’d hope.”

“Oh no, no, haven’t you heard? Tis no longer a crime to conduct such foul sorcery out in the open.”

Anne-Sophie liked to pretend that it didn’t bother her anymore; head held high and her pace purposeful, unhurried, she continued toward the cathedral. It was just past Vespers, and she was, in truth, partially here to let herself be seen. The thorn-laden viny tongues had always grown their poison roses just outside the great doors of St. Reymanaud’s; for so many, their devotions stopped just beyond the Fury’s stony gaze.

Like infants, all of them, playing peek-a-boo with the Goddess. Once those doors closed, they couldn’t see Her, and thus, She ceased to exist. Anne-Sophie smiled wide at the image of all those nobles playing dress-up in their parents’ finery, gobsmacked every time the church’s doors opened to reveal the Fury within.

    Under the First Astral Moon did she serve Halone within the hallowed halls of Saint Reymanaud’s, speaking fiercely unto the mighty of the Vault for the deliverance of the meek; and the Firmament rose still from ashes and broken stones, and the city was full of life and unbounded hope.  Still she went into the forgotten places of Ishgard and administered to the needs of the Fury’s Chosen, yet there was a change in the air and in the markings of their faces, and the shadows of their eyes had once again faded still, and the destitute were housed, and given work.  Her city had risen up from strength to strength, and through the Arc of the Worthy did come those foreign men ushering in the new age, and the voice of the Commons held fast against the machinations of the Lords.

    There came in that time among the throng of foreigners certain adventurers unsung, sent from Gridania to walk over the earth Twelve times in atonement for their violation of a certain law.  Having arrived in Ishgard from the Fury’s Gaze, they did remain in the city for three sennights, and one fateful bell she came to the Forgotten Knight and was invited to their table by the soldier Rkah, who was a Viper.  Besides the soldier there was a second Viper of a sharp tongue, a Seeker without tribe, a scholar of Golmore, and a Duskwight. 

    The following evening she did welcome the adventurers unsung to Saint Reymanaud’s Cathedral and spoke long of gods and ancient men, leading them to the stone image of the Fury within, and they were overawed.  Rkah and the Viper Sahali asked of her why she remained in Ishgard, having revealed to them her desire to venture out of Coerthas to explore the world as an adventurer; she told them she was full happy and content, for she was but a humble servant of the Fury.  She continued to be their guide in Ishgard for the length of their stay, the deeds of Saint Reinette and Valeroyant upon her lips and a brightness in her eyes.

    Near the appointed end of the adventurers’ time in Ishgard, she arranged L’rkah’s meeting with Reymanaud for talk of wars and the Alliance at the Alicorn, the fruits of which she would not fully learn of for some time.  The following morning Reymanaud, who was then well-pleased, saw that his sister was not and asked whether he had offended her.  “And if I have not,” he said, “why are you so distraught?”

    And Judithe unburdened herself to her brother, answering, “I dream of Limsa, and would feel its breeze, of Ul’dah, that I might give succor to the refugee, of Revenant’s Toll, that I might live freely, and of Sharlayan, that I might find Her true scriptures, and save this Church!  But it is an unrealized dream, and too proud, and I cannot dare to dream such things while my work here is yet undone.’

    And to this Reymanaud smiled strangely and answered, “They are on pilgrimage, are they not?  The Revolution has passed, never to be undone, and it will remain without you, and the forgotten are housed and given work.  You say you dare not dream, but is it not yet the hour?  The good work will go on without you, and were the day to come when the Lords summoned you to speak before them, or the Scholasticate recall you for your discourse, could you not write?  Could you not with magic return by the aetheryte?”

    Oft had she been questioned this way, yet for him she held no answer, for indeed he had spoken truth; for years had she studied and for years had she labored for the coming of glory, but now had glory come.

    “Go on pilgrimage, sister, and do good works; Twelve marks await you.”  And so did she begin her preparations, and there was light where she walked.