Mount Apikuni That these hands of mine were clumsy, not clever

Dark lashes swept downward, a slow and deliberate flutter beneath the Matriarche’s curious gaze. Hemera welcomed the scrutiny with ease, unshaken in the presence of a watchful eye. As a priestess, she was accustomed to such closeness; standing before those who sought absolution, listening to whispered sins in hushed reverence. The smile upon her lips did not waver.

„Far from here,” she murmured, a pause lingering between them like the hush of prayer. „To the north.” Beneath the sun’s gaze, the tip of her tail twitched, her own eyes tracing the lines of the Matriarche. A warrior queen, formidable in stature and presence; one fit to lead, to command.

„My home was prosperous,” she went on, her voice laced with something wistful, something mournful. She rarely lingered on the thought, yet a quiet longing for home still stirred within her. „But I was sent here, to spread the Lord’s wisdom.” Half a truth, yet not a flicker of doubt stained her tone, nor did uncertainty touch her expression. A pious servant, yes; but in her heart, she was something beyond that. Still, humility was a virtue she must uphold. For now, she would embrace it. Lowering her head in reverence, Hemera pressed a paw lightly to her chest. „I am nothing more than a servant, Mother, beneath the Lord’s ever-watchful gaze.”

Her plum-hued eyes lifted once more, locking onto her golden gaze. A simple inquiry, yet to her, it was everything. „Tell me, Matriarche; do you keep faith?”