Recent content by Faustina

Faustina's shoulders slumped, her chin dipping. Loosened strands from her intricate braids fell free, falling over her face erratically. Exhaustion was like a wolf gnawing at her body and spirit. Mirana's verbal venom had seeped in, weakening her resolve before what must be done. She peered...

Faustina bowed her head gravely. Eventually, chairs scraped and mutters exchanged, as the delegation prepared to leave. When Thraah and herself were left alone, she turned to what seemed her sole companion behind enemy lines. "How am I to distinguish between those who worship from those who...

Faustina looked plain horrified when she was referred to as a God-whore. It felt like a whiplash in her face; one that she couldn't respond to without breaking down negotiations entirely. Instead, blood flushed to her cheeks, blooming her embarressment at this denigration. She relaxed only...

Faustina jerked into attention. She banged her knee below the table -- so scattered were her nerves. Gavain and Mirana frightened her, but perhaps Mirana most of all, given her overt hostility. She suddenly began wondering what the Radiant Church and what the Cortos kingdom would have to say to...

Faustina stood up shortly after Thraah, now excited. Eyes wide with anticipation — and more than a little nervous dread. "Yes, I am!" she near shouted. Clearing her throat, she purposefully lowered her voice, a blush creeping up on her cheeks with her realisation of her own volume. "I mean, of...

Faustina blinked, looking innocently and intently at Thraah as she went through her own obstacle course of decision making. Finally, when Thraah offered her a place in her mansion, Faustina gained a hopeful smile, lighting up her features as if the Sun God Himself shone on it; bronze eyes...

Sitting down, Faustina rubbed her forehead. The pain had . . . intensified, compared to other times. "Yes, I'm afraid so . . ." she mumbled. Some of the cleric had bled from her voice, making way for the village girl she had once been. She took her time to get her bearings, and to attempt to...

Bronze eyes blinked, before snapping back to clarity. "Wh-- oh, forgive me." She held a delicate hand to her temple, rubbing against the invisible nail that seemed lodged there. "Was I out for long?" Thraah

Faustina kept silent with Thraah, listening. The battle was over. She almost dared not believe it. "Thank the Sunfather. Well, it seems we have managed to avoid more bloodshed today, at least. That must at least count as less--" Faustina searched for a word to replace the profane one. A...

Faustina shirked below Thraah's impassioned outcry. She could feel the captain's frustration as if it was her own, and it frightened her. Yet despite her fear, it seemed as if this Anirian captain turned more human before her very eyes. "Still, you do your duty," Faustina near whispered...

Faustina retracted her hand. Melancholy set into her features, eyes downcast. It was true. Vel Anir was dangerous. Many Cortosi had lost their lives in a war that seemed to have no end in sight. But their faith wasn't a weakness. It was a strength. In dark times, only faith would see one...

Now this was a question she had wrestled with herself. Why did the Sunfather allow suffering for Cortos and his chosen flock? Many answers abounded -- echoes from her education. Some said it was the consequence of free will. The Sunfather allowed all creatures on Arethil the choice between good...

As Thraah's crudeness gave way for a more earnest disposition, Faustina relaxed somewhat. Questions such as this she had heard from many a child - or battle-scarred veteran - and she could answer with more confidence: "All our deeds are recorded for eternity. They resound through the cosmos...

Faustina's features petrified. Then she felt a terrible flush crawling up her neck and heating up her cheeks. Briskly, she turned away. Composed herself. She knew soldiers could be crude, but to this degree? This she had been unprepared for. "N-no, I am no saint. I do not, as you say, throw...

"He does." Her words filled the air in the tent with a perculiarly charged energy. Wind rustled through the flaps, fluting through every crevice and hole. Faustina's declaration lingered like a persistent aroma, such as might be found with the smell of incense lingering long after the candles...