The setting sun spilled its light into the Tabernacle of Methrenton, as the last bit of the day waned on an awkward hour. Metea watched the supplicants coming to and fro, whispering their prayers for their private needs. She shook her head quickly, trying to keep herself awake. It had been a day or so since she had last slept, working against the sudden flood of Magnagorans that had launched an assault on the Celestial plane. A shudder shook itself up her shoulders, a visual of those they had recently buried and honored as heroes coming to mind. Death is never easy. At least, they're finally at peace. A cough brought her out of her own thoughts, the figure of Catarin standing close by bringing her to an awareness that she had been there for the last few minutes. Catarin smiled slightly, nodding her head towards Metea, but Metea did not return it. She turned her back to her mother, as she tried to still the anger that roared up inside of her. A hymn sung by a small group of children washed through the tabernacle, quiet and sullen, causing Metea's mood to drown itself miserably.

"Metea, don't be like this. You knew we had no other choice," Catarin said, a hint of anger burning through her words. Metea turned and stared at her mother, this woman who had served as a paladin for several years. The light caught on her armor, golden and yet well-used enough to cause the light to reflect hapharzardously about her.

"No other choice? We could have saved him!" Metea responded, placing her hands on the pew behind her and grasping it tightly. Damn it all! You knew you shouldn't have come here! You knew this is the only place I can think, and you follow me still. Catarin sighed deeply, her hands brushing through her hair, as she usually did when agitated beyond her ends.

"And tell me, Metea, what could we have done? That angel knew it was going to die. It gave its life so that we could live to fight another day. You know what that this is a great honor..."

"Honor? Honor?! What in the name of Nil and all of the Taint do you know about honor, mother?" she spat out the last word and glared at Catarin, daring her to say something. Catarin simply stood there, as if she had been struck dumb. Her mouth opened and closed, her mind fighting to come up with something to say. Metea watched and listened, using every ounce of her will to keep from striking the woman who called her daughter. "Say it, Catarin. Say it, Mother. You know nothing about honor! You know nothing of what it feels like to have an angel, a friend, die right before your eyes and be powerless to help them! Don't you dare tell me it is an honor, because you don't know a damned thing about what I feel inside!"

Metea stormed passed Catarin, opening the Tabernacle door and slamming it behind her. The choir of children and supplicants present hadn't noticed the small outburst, the hymn continuing as if nothing had ever happened. Catarin stood there, watching the closed door with a look of puzzlement etched on her old and tired face. I know what it feels like, Metea. I just wish you could understand that. Outside, an evening sunset graced the sky with a fold of silver clouds and a horizon set ablaze with turbulent crimsons and soft pastel purples. Night was quickly taking her throne amongst the balance, with the eyes of a silver cat quietly watching Metea rise from the Pool of Stars on golden wings. She gave one glance down to the Tabernacle of Methrenton, as if wanting to turn around, but instead, she rushed into the heavens with the night as her only ally and companion.

Pish, posh! I want to know what happens to Druken!

Edit: Cool story still, of course! I'm just VERY character-narcissistic.

Wait for the next three chapters. You'll find out where Druken plays part in this story.