Picking up the Pieces (Open)

[Ishara Dossari]

4th Day of Spring, Year 512 AV It was in the bowels of the underground to which they'd all crawled for safety that Ishara had encountered a true prayer for the first time since she'd left the desert. As the storm had rumbled overhead, Raj had pressed his thin frame close to where she knelt, quaking in fear. Resting a hand on the back of the sighthound's neck, Ishara's head bowed and the words fell right out of her heart... Yahal, fold your arms around us, Wrap us in your protective embrace. Do not let this storm rend us apart, Protect us with the strength in your heart, For the strength of our faith never wavers. Please, Yahal, keep us safe... It was only now, standing amidst the ruins, that Ishara found the presence of mind to consider the prayer and the implications that had come with it. Her faith had been a deep well, steadfast and strong, yet...buried. Buried beneath the remorse that had haunted her during the length of her journey thus far. It was as though the storm had shaken more than the stones that now lay beneath her feet...it seemed as though it had aslo shaken loose some of the grief that had been clinging darkly to her since her departure. For what grief could deny that breath of life that stirred the soul when daylight fell upon the destruction the storm had rent upon the surface, and one came so close to realizing how fragile life really was? What delicate things we are made of, Ishara thought to herself, bending to pluck a few shattered slags of paving stone from the ground and pivoting to dump them into a wheelbarrow. The Rivarians around her were likewise occupied, all part of a city-wide cleanup that was orchestrated in an effort to repair the damage wrought by the storm. The first few days had been overcast by an atmosphere of tragedy and loss as people emerged to find their livelihoods destroyed, their friends and family missing--or worse--crushed by shattered debris. Ishara's eyes picked out Raj's pale frame nosing about some fallen timbers. The sighthound seemed to feel her gaze upon him, for he lifted his elegant head, silken ears tilted forward as his gaze bored into her. Ishara parted with a brief grin in his direction, bending to retrieve a few shards of rough timber. She could well appreciate how the city of Riverfall seemed to come together, drawing in and around it's own, to aid each other in getting back on their feet following such a disaster. It felt only right, and in acknowledging this Ishara found that it also felt only right to lend her help. Receiving no indications from his master, Raj was content to pick his way delicately across the scattered debris and find a patch of shade beneath a battered shrub.