Lisbeth trudged her way through the Celestine, struggling to breathe. For as beautiful as the mystical gardens were, they were hell on her allergies. Too many different scents, likely seen as lovely perfumes by most, filled her lungs with thickness that weighed them down. She had to stop more than once to get over a coughing fit before she could continue on her way to the shrine.
When she finally reached the shrine, she dropped down on her knees, half in genuflection, half just to catch her breath. She leaned forward with her hands pressed against her knees, wheezing a bit. If only her sergeant could see her now. Her lack of stamina had been a problem all throughout her training, and she was sure that if there hadn't been a war on the horizon, she would have been booted out before they ever let her touch a bow. As it was, she'd been all but banned from sword training, instead being relegated to a position in the back lines where she could mostly stand still while she was fighting. The members of her squad had mocked her for it, but she did her best to pay them no mind.
Once she had mostly caught her breath, she pulled the thin rapier from its sheath on her belt. The thin blade was much shorter than one carried by anyone else in the army, more of a weapon of finesse than strength. The blade, along with the bow and quiver strapped to her back, would soon be the only things between her and death at the hands of the enemy.
She lightly scraped the edge of the blade against the side of her arm. It didn't take more than a whisper of a touch to draw blood from her pale skin. She leaned forward and let a few drops of blood touch the ground before the shrine.
"Blood of my life in tribute to Vi," she whispered to the shrine. "Blood of my death as a promise to Mort. Keep me alive in the coming conflict, or should I die, bring me to the promised eternal rest."
She closed her eyes and let out a long, slow breath. She trembled. She wouldn't let herself admit that she trembled.
When she finally reached the shrine, she dropped down on her knees, half in genuflection, half just to catch her breath. She leaned forward with her hands pressed against her knees, wheezing a bit. If only her sergeant could see her now. Her lack of stamina had been a problem all throughout her training, and she was sure that if there hadn't been a war on the horizon, she would have been booted out before they ever let her touch a bow. As it was, she'd been all but banned from sword training, instead being relegated to a position in the back lines where she could mostly stand still while she was fighting. The members of her squad had mocked her for it, but she did her best to pay them no mind.
Once she had mostly caught her breath, she pulled the thin rapier from its sheath on her belt. The thin blade was much shorter than one carried by anyone else in the army, more of a weapon of finesse than strength. The blade, along with the bow and quiver strapped to her back, would soon be the only things between her and death at the hands of the enemy.
She lightly scraped the edge of the blade against the side of her arm. It didn't take more than a whisper of a touch to draw blood from her pale skin. She leaned forward and let a few drops of blood touch the ground before the shrine.
"Blood of my life in tribute to Vi," she whispered to the shrine. "Blood of my death as a promise to Mort. Keep me alive in the coming conflict, or should I die, bring me to the promised eternal rest."
She closed her eyes and let out a long, slow breath. She trembled. She wouldn't let herself admit that she trembled.
