A Plea (Erzulie In’ama – WoW)
Erzulie removed her mask and set it beside her legs as she kneeled before the alter. Her fingers played out over her thighs as she bowed her head down, tendrils of her rich purple hair falling down about her face. Her stormy orange eyes closed. As she began to speak in her native tongue, her voice chanting the words, the clouds began to gather in the sky above. Directly above her thunder crashed and lightening struck down upon her. Her body crackled with the electrical charge and she opened her eyes, now a greyish blue, matching the fury of the storm above her.
“Shango. I’ve served you a long time, I’ve never been unfaithful, and I’ve never cursed your name nor looked down upon you. I’ve embraced the chaos of your storms and ridden the waves of destructive havoc you leave in your wake. I’ve served your will without question.”
The Shadowhunter pulled her dagger from her side to slice open the palm of her hand. She pressed her palm against the alter and let her blood flow openly against the stone.
“For those years of service, when I considered you everything, everything, I never mated. I named my tusklings after the Loas you, yourself, consider allies. And yet, you turn me away as if I were a pet. Why? When I have done nothing but serve your will?”
Her clawed fingernails gripped at the edge of the stone in rage, her knuckles white under the thin layer of teal fur. “You do it without asking me. I am your servant Shango, not your property. I beseech you, Shango. Release me, send me to Legba, I have always been more his child with my healing ways.”
She cries, pressing her forehead against the cold stone, her chest heaving with the fear of talking back to her patron Loas. “I beseech you, Shango. Send me to Legba!” Her bleeding hand curls into a fist. “You had no right, Shango.”
As she brings herself to her feet, she grabs her mask and slams it against the stone, shattering the wooden and leather mask that had hidden her face for so long. “I will never turn my back, but I beg of you, give me to Legba.”
With the end of her prayer, the lightening left her and she was greeted with silence. Erzulie sighed heavily and turned away, ghostly vines beginning to entwine around her arms to heal the self-inflicted wound on her hand. As she walked away, her eyes grew wide. An elderly Troll, heavily relying on a staff walking with her to the shore of the Forgotten Sea.
“Prove yourself to me, Shadowhunter and I shall make you a Witch Doctor.” The voice whispered to her, coarse and worn with his apparent years.