Thread: Sisters of Heresy {The Interpid Wanderer n' ForeverM}

Guide me, upon my path. Help me find a place, among these new faces. A place where I might feel welcome. Wanted. And not as an outcast. An unwelcome guest. How can I guide these souls into battle, when I can hardly win their respect? I fear, that I might fail you, my Lady. Lose my spot as a Commandry. And maybe that, would be for the better. The things I did. During that battle. It was purely acting on instincts. I may not be fit, for an actual command. Maybe remaining a recruit. A foot soldier. One commanded, not one commanding. Was a better calling for me? Please. Guide me, my Lady. Another prayer spent, on deft ears, and mute tongues. But her faith was strong. She believed, that the deities of the Sisterhood, and the Imperium, would guide her. Her prayers had helped her before. Helped her lead the remnants of her last Commandry to victory, after their Commander had perished. It had been a bloody, and taxing battle, and many of her fellow Sisters, had already perished to the overwhelming forces of the Orkish Waargh. But with renewed leadership from her, they'd put their boots down, and held their line, until reinforcements had arrived. Many Sisters had owed their lives to her, and they'd all knelt for her, once the rest of the Preceptory had arrived. And that, had granted her the favor of her superiors. And now, she was in a new Preceptory. Now the Commandry of her own squads. But she felt out of place. This Commandry, had only just lost their Commander, and their bond had been strong. It was hard to become something wanted, in a group that wanted that they couldn't get. And she remained a junior Sister. Out aged and probably out skilled by many of those bellow her now. They didn't look very kindly to that. Sister Amedea sat in a corner of the Chapel, placed casually upon one of the long benches, at it's very corner in the dark. Her back was leaned against the wall, her feet placed up on the bench by her side, her knees raised to support her arms resting upon them. Wearing a simple brown robe, covering most of her body, the only thing anyone really saw of her, was the furiously red hair, curling down her back, and sides, her forehead resting upon her arms, her face hidden. She sat alone, as she felt alone. Only a small group of Sisters was still in the Chapel, saying their goodnights, before heading towards their quarters, finally leaving Amedea alone in the Chapel. And as she was, her face rose, and lead towards the statues of the Chapel halls. Displaying their great ancestors and deities. With a heavy-hearted sigh, she gazed upon them with longing eyes. She desperately needed guidance. Or just something to hold on to. She was not sure, commanding was truly her calling anymore. She wasn't sure, she'd be able to be the woman, she was expected to be. But telling that to a superior, would only get her trouble. With a light groan, she reached her arms around her legs, pulling them close against herself, resting her chin upon her knees, gazing towards nothing. Just like she felt, she'd been doing for a long time. No vision of the future, that'd tell her how it might go. Was that just the curse of a Sister? Or was it merely her, who felt she should be seeing more, as a Commandry of several hundred souls.