[CENTER][h3][color=a187be]Sara, Daughter of Aliya[/color][/h3]
[img]https://media.discordapp.net/attachments/534948241825988611/1174472569089429534/image.png?ex=6567b7d1&is=655542d1&hm=0ac3def3fc8f9660bc4ffa5b117bd076001fdea39f99c6fc0387a65fdaacb1b6&=[/img][/CENTER]

[hider=May I offer you a BGM in these trying times?]
I just thought the juxtaposition of piety and poverty in this song reflect an integral part of Sara's character.

[youtube]https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5JU0ILjStgA[/youtube][/hider]
After another thorough and scathing dress down by Irina, Sara bowed deeply before departing the chamber and reclaiming her Templar crystal. Though being lambasted a second time injured her pride, there was one silver lining; Irina trusted Sara implicitly, though the older woman would probably never admit it. That had to count for something. Sara held the crystal in her bandaged hands, staring into its transparent shimmer, before asking the squire for directions to the castle chapel. Upon receiving her directions, Sara thanked the squire and headed over, feeling that some prayer and spiritual contemplation were much needed right now. As Sara approached, the covered her head with the hood of her Templar uniform in an act of modesty and piety. She entered, head lowered, hands clasped in prayer. Though doing so ignited the dull, throbbing pain of her healing burns, she kept her hands together regardless.

[color=a187be]"Our Mother..."[/color] Sara's silent voice choked and faltered for a moment as a lump caught in her throat. Tears streamed down the side of her face, surprising her as her body and mind finally succumbed to the stress of the day. [color=a187be]"M-Mother...please forgive me. Please take this sinner back within your warm embrace, though I am unworthy. I have...violated my oath to you to protect my Scion. I have allowed myself to doubt his holiness and to secretly wish harm to befall him. Though I am undeserving, I ask you for strength. Strength to repel our enemies, whoever they may be, strength to withstand political machinations and intrigue, strength to endure senseless hatred..."[/color]

Sara suddenly turned her face up, having unconsciously walked to the foot of the statue of the Goddess that was the centerpiece of the chapel and unknowingly raised her voice, as if in protest and challenge, [color=a187be]"Incepta On High! Is the blood of my mother truly so tainted? You sent down a fraction of your mercy and it manifested as the love that every mother has for her children. Is it then wrong for me to revere my mother but a fraction of the reverence I offer to you?! She bore me through hardship and showed me to the doorstep of your house before she passed. Is she not worthy of your compassion and the compassion of those who worship you? Though she did not speak the prayers herself, did she not bring into this world one who has devoted her entire life to you? Are my actions not enough to save her? Long is the road to redemption, but what crime am I seeking atonement for?"[/color]

Sara lowered her gaze, feeling a sense of loss, and only then noticed that her hands were clasped so hard that the bandaging between her palms had become wet, sticky, and slightly red. Sara relaxed her body slightly, [color=a187be]"Forgive me. The actions of your worshippers are not an accurate reflection of your will. Like me, they too, are sinners, and prone to misguidance. Much ignorance yet lingers in the heart of man. I cannot allow myself to be so arrogant as to believe that what little service I have offered would be enough to change their minds. Please excuse my momentary lapse of faith."[/color]

Sara took a few steps back and collapsed into one of the pews, leaning back. She gazed upwards at the vaulted ceiling, unlit chandeliers, and the stained glass, darkened by the night sky outside. This was home. This was where she belonged; with her Mother. Sara closed her eyes, feeling her mind slowly go blank from exhaustion. To minimize pain, her arms lay upon her thighs, palms facing upwards, looking for all the world as if she was supplicating, and perhaps she was, though she could have been asking for nothing and everything. At the back of her mind, she reminded herself of her duty. She should regroup with Theobald and keep close to him as Irina commanded, but for the moment, she simply wanted to enjoy this fleeting, quiet moment. If they were attacked again even now, then Sara could only chalk it up to Incepta's wrath. perhaps they had strayed too far and Incepta wished to wipe the slate clean, Scions and Templars and all. For some reason, such a fatalistic view brought a small chuckle to Sara's throat. And though it was not proper church etiquette, Sara laid down, bringing her legs up onto the pew. Though the mahogany of the pew was uncomfortable, laying on a hard surface brought back an old familiarity. Though one was not supposed to sleep in a chapel, Sara reassured herself that she would get up forthwith and find Theobald; she just needed to close her eyes for a few seconds...