Prophet
An angel. Pale pink skin, stretched over bone. Bare feet almost touching the ground, forbidden from contact with mortal soil. Tattered robes, clinging to the shivering cadaver. Hollow eyes, pinpricks of light buried deep in the sockets. Wings, with grasping hands where feathers should be.
Taji's sword.eyes Deepopened redslowly. blade,Through dippedthe haze of incense she locked her gaze on the statue a few feet from her. It depicted a figure, also in centuriesa kneeling position. The figure was draped in a heavy robe which obscured their form completely. This was an effigy of blood.Arbandr, The Pilgrim, who leads souls to their afterlife. Once, when she was a child, Taji had seen the statue turn its head to look at her. She stared hard at it but Arbandr refused to look up. She sighed and stood slowly, stretching her legs as she did in order to avoid a cramp.
Taji had been in service to the Children of Divinity since she was young and her parents had realized her "dreams" had been coming true. It started small: stubbed toes, surprise visitors, knowing about gifts before they'd been given. It had been a party trick for a while until she warned the town about a flash flood in time to get everyone to higher ground. The village took nearly six months to repair, but no lives had been lost. After that, her parents contacted a priest of The Pilgrim and she was shipped off to a temple to serve and train her gift.
She'd hated the first year. The priests were nice enough and she got along with her fellow "students", but it took her a while to get used to the disciplined environment. Once she acclimated though,