---

tonight, she prays.


at her feet, a small pit dug. pressed under dark palm, a blue flower for the Goddess. a bowl of water, to soak the blue flower in and let the offering sit for the rest of the crimson night. perhaps the goddess was angry, if only racharra were as divine as she thought she was when she had engaged samirseti. perhaps then she could reach for the Goddess. instead, she will just have to bring more offerings soon.

now sitting, racharra thinks of priestess nazli with a soft smile. what would she have done under these circumstances. racharra hardly knew how to lead prayers more complex than this, but it always came to the coywolf so naturally. no tears come, for she had none left.
and in her lingering, the lady forgets she is not completely alone.