• Legends and Lore:

The Priestess's Lament

By: Lybra

(Pre Ascension)

There once was a girl who lived
on the shores of the stormy sea,
who with her family of fishermen
was as happy as could be.

By day she frolicked on the shore,
and at night she swam in the tide.
And as she grew this did not change;
from the sea she never shied.

On one cold night a fog came
rolling down upon the town.
And all were asleep when from
the sea there came a gurgling sound.

The child awoke at the noise
and raced down to the pier,
and there she beheld creatures
that could not truly be real.

With glittering scales of orange
and eyes of deepest blue,
crabbed and clawed the creatures sang,
“Lybra, we’ve come for you!”

The child did not believe it,
yet she did not turn away.
“Who are you, Sers?” she asked them,
alarmed when they began to bray:

“Polite little girl, two-legged girl,
we’ve been with you all this time!
Playing with your toes and pulling your hair,
giving you waves to climb!”

“You are friends?” the child asked,
and seeing them nod she smiled,
“There aren't many children here,
mother says this sea is too wild.

I have been so very lonely,
I will be happy for a friend!”
To the creatures she extended her hands,
and into the water they did descend.

They swam throughout the night,
to places old and dark and deep,
and when the morning’s light arrived
the creatures brought her home asleep.

They laid the child back in her bed
long before her mother would stir
and hid below its wooden frame
to coo, gurgle, and murmur.

The child awoke to the waves
as they crashed along the shore.
The sea was rough and angry
and the clouds promised only more.

But the child didn’t care for the weather,
greater concerns had she,
such as sharing her night’s wondrous tale
with her mother and family.

“We’re still here, Lybra, dear!”
the creatures crawled out from under the bed,
“Maybe you go to breakfast soon?
We’re starving! We must be fed!”

“I’ll feed you, friends, don’t you fret!”
The child bid them follow after,
“Let us go find my mother,
and breakfast we shall capture!”

Her mother was making porridge,
bent over her hot, iron pot.
“Lybra, dear, good morning!
You’re up, early, my tot!”

“Mother, we are hungry!”
And at this she spread her arms wide,
“My friends and I want breakfast!
If they don’t eat, they’ll surely die!”

“What a funny child you are,”
her mother dearest had said.
“To have such strange friends,
that live inside your head.”

“They don’t live in my head, mama!”
the child she had replied.
“My friends are here with me now,
They’re as real as you and I!”

“Oh, are they now, my dear?”
Her mother’s eyes roamed side-to-side.
“I don’t see them anywhere,
And there’s no place for them to hide.”

“I’ll show you yet my friends are real!”
the child did declare,
“And when I do, you’ll be sorry that you
said that they weren’t there!”

“There’s no need to be angry, my love!
We all have imaginary friends.”
The mother kissed her daughter’s nose,
trying to make amends.

But the child had none of it,
and when her breakfast came
she refused to touch the porridge
and offered it to her friends instead.

The creatures gurgled and wheezed
as the porridge they sucked down,
snapping claws and sharp-tipped teeth
while the child could only frown.

“Surely you need fish!
That porridge can’t be good.
Do you need to go home,
to find proper food?”

“Take us home, yes, two-legs!”
chittered one of the things.
“We can show you where we live,
and teach you all the songs we sing!”

The child was delighted by the idea,
and they set off that afternoon,
with the scaly creatures leading the way
over sea-weed crested dunes.

Down the rainy beach they walked,
and into the sea they waded
until the waves came up so high
that the sky above them faded.

The creatures took the child down
into the black, cold sea,
and neither mother nor father saw her again,
but both wept bitterly.

The child lived amongst the Others,
and dreamed the dreams of the damned,
she sung songs of sorrow,
and blood-encrusted sand.

Her jewels were lifeless eyeballs,
as white and milky as pearls,
and her clothes were flayed hide and kelp leaves,
which about her would dance and twirl.

For such is the garb of a priestess,
in the service of Akylios.
And when He dreams of madness,
his priestess obediently follows.