2018-11-22: Sing

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  • Cutscene: Sing
  • Cast: Skylr Paer
  • Where: Adlehyde City, Ignas Continents, Filgaia
  • Date: November 22nd, 2018
  • Summary: Skylr is pretty good at following the rules. Til tonight, at least.

It had been an already long day - but right now, it was proving to be a just as long night. Skylr had always been one of those very helpful types: With her magic steeped in heeling, who can blame her? From helping out at the local places of healing, to assisting whoever would ask her in the streets - and then, of course, the farms. She may not do fruits and vegetables, but helping out with the animals - that she's good at.

Sometimes, Sky wonders if that's the ONLY pair of things she's good at.

Stepping into the barn, she heads down into the pile of sheep, most of them sleeping except for a couple of the rambunctious lambs. The smallest one shies away when Skylr approaches, but the other one, who she's fed by hand lately, trots over to her. "Hi, baby." Skylr murmurs, scooping up the small creature, running a thumb over its' completely black face. "How're you doing?" She checks the shock of knobby knees that don't have wool for any scratches, before sitting down, her back against the barn wall as she starts stroking her hands through the coarse wool.

The lamb, already as gregarious as sheep tend to be, stays in her lap, looking up at her. It does not show concern the way a dog might, but the closeness of it and the nature of them that she is used too is comforting to the young guards-woman, who continues to scrape out the unruly wool out carefully between her fingers. "Is it funny?" She whispers to the sheep quietly. "Isn't it funny, that when confronted with the woman who set Sin on Azado, all I could do was cry? You think I'd be brave enough for my own momma and poppa to do something. But instead I cried, and cried, and cried."

"Why do I cry for someone that hurt me?"

"... and why was I sadder for her, than me?"

The sheep looks at her. Continues looking at her. It then headbutts her, drawing an 'oof' that escapes her lips. "Hey, I'm not asking you to actually talk to me here." Sky tells the sheep with an almost light tone. "But I can't talk to Pearl about this. I especially can't talk to Leo... and Eryon was there with me when I met Neriah, and ..." Skylr's voice breaks, uncertainly- "And I don't know how he feels about her and me and I think he tries a little hard but he means well and he's really, really smart. I can tell. And I don't want him asking me questions. I don't want anyone asking me questions."

Tears streak down her cheeks.

"I miss when things where simple. I miss being able to listen to mama sing me to sleep. I miss papa being able to relax. I miss being able to be out in the fields and dance like no one was watching - 'cause only mama and papa saw me then, if our sheep wasn't paying attention. I miss trusting my own heart."

Skylr's hand comes up to her head. "Everything hurts." She whispers to the sheep.

"So I don't want to hurt, anymore. Not tonight. I don't think she'll be mad at me. It's to her, after all. I feel my faith in her, here-" She taps on the lamb where she generally knows the heart is- "And I know something's gone wrong. But for tonight, I need it to be right. Even if it never will be, anymore. But I still believe in her."

"Is that so wrong?"

Not even a bleat from the lamb answers her, although her voice has woken up more of the sheep, all of whom gaze at her with that quiet placidity are known for - and that facial remembrance and trust, as she's been here and there. She smiles at them. "One shepherd's concert, then. For the lot of you - here, where I know I won't be heard, by any but you and me."

Then Skylr lifts her voice - her tremulous, soft alto reaching into the high lofts of the barn.

"Feel the spirit's voice confirm;
living truth is on the earth.
With the power of the truth we'll find;
we will stand and serve our lord.

Blessed Lady we revere,
Mighty Goddess, chosen seer,
With Her power, we will stand
Sweet Althena, guide our hand!"

Her voice trembles on the last note, before her head comes down, pressing her forehead into the wool of the lamb as she sobs.