>>5887646She is tall, but you cannot say how tall. She might be six feet tall, or seven, or eight or nine or ten. She is thin—not sickly-thin, but elegantly slim, in a way that seems to defy direct measurement. She is, to your feeble mortal perceptions, the beam of light made manifest, expanded across dimensions of perceptions, unfolded into the shape of an elfmaid. Her substance is pure light, but subtleties of its hue and tone give her definition: her skin is lighter than her dress, more whole in its lightness while her dress is subtly accented by each and every colour, one at a time or all at once, depending upon the angle by which you view her and the way she moves or gestures. And her face is… her face is so fine of features that her small, upturned nose is barely even detectable against the shining of her visage, her mouth a thin line between smooth lips. Her ears, long and elegant, swoop upwards and backwards, almost connecting just as Clanirae’s nearly do—no, in fact, they DO connect at the tips, you think! They form a halo-like ring, and within its embrace hovers a miniature star, or something very much like one.
But her eyes… Her eyes are what are most unexpected. Large, and shining, and black as night… Like those of the Unseelie Fey.
Those bleak, terrible, beautiful eyes turn upon you. With a start, you realize that it isn’t only Clanirae who is kneeling—it is every elf present and, yes, even your father has seemingly understood the decorum. You hastily do as the others have, taking off your cap and falling to your knees, bowing your head.
…
Eventually, you lift your gaze, wondering if anything will happen. You cry out and fall onto your rump the moment you do, because the goddess—an ACTUAL GODDESS—is standing roughly a foot away from you, hands resting before her, looking down at you. YOU. DIRECTLY.
“You have done a great service for me, Ezreal Mious of Dappulyet, and for my priestess and my people.”
The goddess’ mouth doesn’t move, and you tremble slightly at what substitutes for her ‘voice’: a frequency of mystical power which vibrates your very self as the vocal chords might be vibrated. The voice is distinguishable—feminine, regal in a way you’ve never experienced before, definitely not YOUR voice—and yet it seemingly comes from within you and from all around you.
“I did my duty,” you respond, voice barely a whisper.
“But not only for duty’s sake, I am told?”
You follow the Divine Princess’ gaze, suddenly shifted from you to Clanirae, who stands beside you once more.
“Don’t worry,” the priestess reassures you. “My mistress does not think lesser of you, for seeking understanding, and the opportunity to help.”
