The Child of the Sun waits for judgement to be passed upon her.

It is not all with grace. She keeps her head down, not daring to search for the lighthouse's eyes. As the silence continues her breath becomes shorter, more fearful. She squeezes her eyes shut. Every minute that passes with her sins unaddressed compounds the seriousness of her crime. The offense she has given is so dire, the pain she has inflicted is so serious that she is being left kneeling and unaddressed upon the doorstop. There are unpracticed tears, and unpracticed attempts to control them. There are ears and instincts shrieking at every sound of bird and hound in the distance that cannot be addressed, for distraction would show insincerity in her quest for penance. There is a secret wish for a mother as gentle and kind as she's trying to be, who would use a smile and a miracle to explain everything and make everything better.

The stone is so cold beneath her fingers. She's never felt anything like it. Her hand begins to tremble, and then with a sound of anguish, she throws her arms around the lighthouse as best as she is able and she cries and cries and says that she's sorry and that she's lost and that she didn't mean it. And as she does, she tries with all her wishing heart to bring as much warmth to this cold stone as she can.


And all about Fortitude, what was already a very hot day turns into a [i]scorcher[/i]. Within twenty minutes the town erupts in groans as the ramshackle old power grid overloads under the strain of trying to keep everything cool in the face of the Sun's apology.