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Omen of Catastrophe
Responsibility

Responsibility

The day had passed. She only reentered her shared domicile when the sky had turned red. Her dinner was filling, and she made sure to eat extra, for she knew she would need it. She stoked away some extra, for when hunger would come again.

Syndra did not own much. Her comb and pouch of coins, ever unspent. Saved for a day such as this. What cloth she had and what little memoires she had of the time before the temple. It was barely a bundle, but it was what she had.

She placed each item into a small rucksack and heft it upon her shoulders. With a cursory glance she thought that she had what she needed.

She exited her living quarters, making sure to check for any other late-night conspirators. Thankfully the coast was clear. Avoiding the slap of her sandals against the stone floor, she instead floated through the corridor, towards the staircase leading out and into the courtyard. Deeming herself outside earshot, she lowered herself onto the slanted steps, and began her descent towards the courtyard. She headed towards the temple entrance. The island of Bahrl, The Placidium. Anywhere but here.

The moon hung low in the sky, bringing its pale light onto the dark stone. In that muted light she saw a shade. Leaned against the temple walls. Her curiosity lured her closer, until she recognized the hunched shape as Yima.

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The colour was drained from her skin, her breath short and ragged. Syndra leaned down by her side and put Yima’s arm over her should, placing her other hand on her hip. She stood lifting Yima to her feet. Slowly, one step at a time, Yima was carried to the infirmary once more.

Yatta sound asleep, the room lit in a blue light.

She had regained some consciousness, though still far from lucid. Syndra turned and lifted her bag, when Yima’s voice croaked.

“Don’t… eave. -dra”

Her words shallow. Syndra turned, to look at her once more. Yima coughed and looked toward Syndra. “Please”

Syndra walked to her tugged the sick girl.

“Why would you want that?” whispered Syndra.

“Please… Just stay. I’ll live.” Yima slowly faded back into unconsciousness.

Syndra sat silently by her side, pondering Yima’s words and wishes. When the patient had stabilized, she went to her pack, and brought out the food she had readied. She placed it by Yima’s bedside.

She cursed her own weakness and walked back out of the infirmary.