Remorse
Dessicus would often go to the holy temples of the light to reflect, his concious usually pretty clear, though at times, even he had to admit, not the most holy. The gentle light that shone through colored glass was soothing, almost cleansing, and as the sun's position changed, the colors too did warp, and he felt at ease in such a holy place, the light breathing, feeling. Ever present.
Gone, had most of the Cardinals and priests, having done their prayers and moved on to other activities. Instead, he sat, alone in the pews, his eyes trained on the stained glass, the colors displaying on his face.
"Staying in late tonight, Dessicus?" Dessicus turned to face Northum, a Dranei Paladin that he'd trained with long ago. He looked amused at the blood elf, his face crinkled in a smile.
"Only a little longer." Dessicus said, shaking a stray bang away from his face. "I don't want to disturb anyone who may want to repent alone." Northum shook his head and chuckled.
"Few come here after dark, my friend." He said, patting the Paladin Blood Elf's shoulder amicably. "You are welcome to the light as much as you want. The light does not choose favorites, as I'm sure you know."
Dessicus rolled his eyes and smiled at his friend. Indeed, the light could be strong with anyone who accepted it into their hearts. He allowed himself a brief moment to commune with the light, before beginning to exit, Northum not far behind him.
"Plans for tonight, my friend?" the Draenei asked, clasping an armor-clad gauntlet carefully. "I was thinking of seeing to the inn. A good ale would do good for the soul." Dessicus laughed, amused.
"I would love an ale, let us go." As they walked, Dessicus spotted a short figure, cloaked in dark colors, headed for the chapel he had just left. His curiousity getting the better of him, he turned to Northum.
"Hey, I'll catch up, I just remembered something." Dessicus said, waving at Northum. Northum shrugged, calling after him, "Don't be too long, or you're ale will grow warm!"
Dessicus waved to his friend, following the short shadow that seemed to be cautiously watching it's steps. Based on the height alone he'd have to say if was a goblin or a dwarf, though the thin-ness suggested the former. Their hood was drawn, and their cloak wrapped around large pauldrons, and the chinking of armor betrayed them as a plate wearer. Dessicus was curious why they'd want to be at the chapel so late.
He followed the shadow to the courtyard, where a memorial was erected. Upon it were names of thousands of citizens, warriors, and royals alike, that had met their ends during the war against the Lich King. Since the Cataclysm, many names had been added, though seperate from the lives that had been claimed by the scourge.
He watched as the shadowed figure reached up to touch the names, and he realized it was a goblin. A female. Her shiny armor was form fitting and seemed... alive. It made his wary, but still, he watched, curious. Why was she here?
An echoed voice made chills roll down his spine, and for a moment, he was frozen in place.
"I'm sorry." Her voice, not entirely her own echoed. "I ended so many lives..." The tone was monotonous, almost as if she were speaking words from a chant. He recognized the undertones of her voice, they were familiar. He tried to picture a face, but drew blank. He drew closer, wondering what a Death Knight was doing in such a holy place, late at night, sneaking around.
"I failed..." She trailed off, her hand slowly tracing the names, at least the ones she could reach. "My duties as a Paladin had been clear. But I was not strong enough to fight him at first." She rested a hand on the carved stone, her gauntlets gleaming in the moonlight. "I fell to the scourge, and rose again to end your lives... and for that, I am more sorry than you will ever know."
Dessicus knew this sounded familiar. He could almost picture a face, it was there, teasing him, tantalizing. Goblin paladin's didn't exist. He'd only knew one. He hadn't seen her in ages. Years.
"I am guilty for each and every one of you." She said. "I cannot take back what I did." Her echoed voice sounded off as she ended her speech, almost sorrowful. She was repentant. She regreted her sins. She was here as an act of contrition.
For a fraction of a second, she turned, and the light caught her face just right. Dessicus's eyes widened, and forgetting all decorum, rushed out from behind the pillar, needing the proof, needing to see it for himself.
"Crysanthemum!?"
...
This is kind of a prequal to the first little short, but I'm still working out some of the kinks in Crysanthemum's story. Crysanthemum is actually my main in WoW, and Dessicus is a name that all of my spouse's characters have, or some variation. Anyone who has read my previous work will notice Crysanthemum may hop from character to character, and this is not intentional. It is a result of my alt-aholic husband.
Enjoy!