The sun sat amid the lip of the horizon, casting its rays on the golden city of New Celest. The choir of Japhiel's Tabernacle rang beautifully in the morning, only mirroring the precious notes of praise that were being sung in the Tabernacle of Raziela. Though, it was the Tabernacle of Japhiel that found Catarin sitting in the last pew, hands folded and a look of blank longing etched along her line-drawn face. She shut her eyes, closing them as tightly as she could before opening them again slowly. The supplicants were rising to join in the hymns to Japhiel, and at any other, Catarin would have been happy to join. Now, though, her thoughts were on an impending figure that loomed heavily in her near past. How did I not see it? she thought to herself. How did I not know that one of my own would leave like this? The painful memory stung deeply and ravenously, making her stomach turn on itself and her eyes sting from the tears that sat there. Just last night, the call of a some sort of wolf had shattered the air and her wits, with a young novice and she together on the road outside of Glomdoring Forest. It had been a new moon. Damn it, Catarin! What in the Nil is wrong with you? You damned well knew that it was a new moon! A new moon! The one time of the month that she not only prayed that the Magnagorans stay within the confines of their disgusting city, but also prayed that the Night followers would leave her well alone. If it weren't for that treaty between New Celest and Glomdoring right now, I'd march right in there and take him right back out. Her analytical side told her that wouldnt' do either. Upon seeing the fae who moved about Druken, as he emerged from the forest to greet them, the novice had simply gasped in admiration and awe. Catarin had felt something, something horribly dark, twist itself around the novice and she. Her novice was swept up by the stories of the Glomdoring Forest, and like an enchanted maiden, ran into the forest head long and into what torture, she daren't think of.

She closed her eyes again, her prayers to Japhiel and Elohora rising from her lips in whispers, her hands tightly woven before her in prayer. Evil, damned creatures! Light strike you where you stand! Someone placed a hand on her shoulders, and it was only then she found out she was shaking quite hard. She looked up to find Metea giving her that look she always gave when she was offering herself as a crying bench and a leaning post. Catarin took the chance swiftly, moving over so that Metea could sit beside her and listen to her woes and worries.

Outside of the Tabernacle of Japhiel, Neerth was walking half-blind with a stack of books balanced in his arms. He teetered back and forth, swearing quite unLightlike and catching dirty looks from the occasional passerby. Oh, I'd like to see you carry these bloody books! Then tell me which of us is not upholding the Light! His arms hurt from carrying them all the way from the Great Library located at Mount Avechna. I pray someone kicks me for not taking the Aetherplex, he thought moodily as he veered back and forth inbetween people and buildings. The New Celest Library loomed before him a few minutes later, and he praised the gods, each and every one of them, thoroughly for the beautiful sight.

Once the doors closed behind him, he was seen climbing a flight of stairs with sweat beading on his brow. Silence hung in the library, thick and undisturbed, until someone who sounded awfully similar to Neerth was heard shouting, "SHITE!!". That, mixed with the sound of hundreds of books falling down a stairway somewhere nearby, caused the silver cat sitting atop of the library roof to pick up its head and look down just in time to see Neerth busting out the back door of the building. A coy smile played itself across the silver cat's mouth, or what seemed like a smile, as it laid down and watched Neerth kick at the air as he disappeared into another building nearby. It stood after a while and sauntered off back the way it had come, a vibrant and masculine chuckle ringing after it before it, like the soon-to-come evening sun, was swept away on the midsummer breeze.

Quickly Edited: Catarin is not a Celestian but a Paladin. No angels.

I'm curious what Catarin's (or any of the Celestians) so far role in this is but I guess I'll have to wait for more chapters for that! I definitely am interested in who it was that ran off to the Glomdoring that Catarin would actually care about to such an extent that she would feel distressed enough to openly display an emotion besides anger.

She and her daughter (Metea) have a somewhat more strained relationship then is portrayed since Catarin is a sociopathic zealot prone to violence and Metea is really rather sweet but I can see it as being likely that Metea might be one of the few people that Catarin might be willing to lean on.

Her penchant for hanging out in Japhiel's tabernacle is spot on!

In the past, I've noticed that Catarin takes things to heart, especially as a younger girl. (Yes, I watch people. And no, I'm not psychotic. ) I wanted to capture that heart-feld distress she would feel if she even lost one person to anything other than the Light. You had mentioned earlier, on the message boards, how you felt about New Celest. I remembered reading that and put that into context here. ^^ As for what role Catarin and the other Celest denizens I've mentioned play in the story, wait for chapters 9 and 10. ^^ All will be revealed. *says in Miss Cleo voice*

Ahh, yes this would mirror a younger Catarin well then. Before her uh, issues.