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[img]https://i.imgur.com/ohitsIF.png[/img][/Center]
[hr][@Rune_Alchemist]

[color=green]"Y- yeah, I'll be sure not to disturb them.[/color] Finnegan replied nervously to the spider-priestess; her inhuman appearance still causing the young Apostle clear discomfort. 

Finnegan watched the creature closely as it continued down the hallway beyond, only daring to breathe a sigh of relief after Achel rounded another corner out of sight.

As Finn turned his attention back to the sick and injured, whatever lingering fears quickly being replaced with a solemn sense of pity and a lingering dread that coiled loosely in the pit of his gut. 

Without the smell of Funerary incense that seemed to cling to the gravekeeper-- the stench of sickness and blood hit Finnegan full force, nearly causing him to gag. Only the quiet splash of water in the next room broke the barely audible chorus of pained moans and shallow breathing. And with the lack of natural light... It felt more like a room of people just waiting to die than anything else.

In which case the small statuette of Rifelshka would be rather fitting, Finnegan supposed.

Neatly folding his blood-soaked soaked tabard in an empty corner of the room, and washing his hands and arms in a nearby basin of water before making his rounds; carefully examining each patient. With each one Finn passed, his heart sank ever further into the pit that had firmly anchored itself in Finn's stomach. Whoever had been treating these people clearly knew what they were doing, their skills easily eclipsing the basic aid techniques he had learned during baseline training.

Even more demoralizing was the vaguest sensation that someone else had already tried healing these people with magic. Whether it was true? Finnegan wasn't sure-- but the thought still nagged at him.

He stopped beside the bed of a frail, malnourished child; their entire left arm blackened with frostbite... and seemingly prepped for an amputation.

Finnegan's eyes stung as he stared down at child, his thumb tracing nervously around the edge of his cog-shaped scar. [i]What if he couldn't help these people? Only the Prophet heself could wield God's blessing of renewal... If such was a power only held by the very child of God-- why would it be granted to an underachieving footsoldier? Why not one of the Paladins like Commander Railey or Captain Morgan? Why not a member of the Clergy? If he tried to help these people-- would he fail? Be laughed at? Be blamed when they didn't get better? Driven away for being a burden again?[/i]

Finnegan's gaze alternated between his palm and the Child before at last setting his jaw, and steeling his resolve.

His dream [i]meant[/i] something. It had to. And even if the revelation he'd received was only meant to save his own life...

[Center]What kind of person would he be if he didn't at least [i]try[/i] to help others with it?[/center]

Tentatively, Finn extended his hand; his buzzing palm growing almost warm as it drew closer to the Frostbitten flesh of the child's arm. Closing his eyes, the Apostle would focus with all of his might-- listening for the voices...

And he heard them, more clearly this time... Their dissonant echoes guiding him in an almost familiar prayer-- [color=green]"Endless is the turning of the wheel-"[/color] he repeated after the voices' guidance; the dull warmth beginning to pulsate from his hand and up his arm, [color=green]"That which begins, will one day end. And that which ends begins again."[/color]

The sensation of heat slowly intensified, the rhythmic pulsations trailing all the way from Finn's palm to the core of his chest.

[color=green]"We the Children of the the shattered cycles; born from the ends of beginnings, your humble servants, your loving sons and daughters call upon you O Holy Father."[/color]

The sensation grew hotter, the pulsations gradually intensifying in tempo until it felt almost like bolts of lightning running in and out of his body.

[color=green]"Blessed Father, mine Silver Lord--"[/color]

Sweat built upon Finnegans brow as his eyes clenched tightly shut; fighting to continue the prayer regardless of how much it hurt.

[color=green]"Let thine mercy kiss shut our wounds. Thy benevolence return us to beginning. Thy love shield us from the jealousy of the shunned."[/color]

[Center][color=green]"Make us whole once more."[/color][/center]