Lystra had been shifty during the service today, unable to sit still, which was unusual for her. There were other things on her mind. The sermon slid through one ear and back about the other, without a piece of it sticking within her head. No matter. Most services were the same, with a few words changed here and there. With how long Lystra had been attending, it was more a chore than a pleasure to listen. Most things were a chore now. Like today.
As soon as the service was over, Lystra cleared out with the others, but she did not go far. Her servants made sure she was fed, and had a warm place to wait. They were running around like frantic ants that had just watched their comrades drown. Oh wait, they just had, without the drowning part, and in singular rather than a plural. Lystra let a twist of a smile touch her lips at that thought, fanning herself leisurely as they continued to bustle about, frightened, their heads downcast and apologies softly exiting them every time they even neared her.
At least they had gotten the message this time.
Snapping her wrist sharply, her fan swung shut, the harsh, whip-like noise causing her servants to jump. Lystra let a soft, though not at all humor filled, laugh tumble from her painted lips, standing in a slow, deliberately feline motion. It was time. Lystra walked with her head held high, frigid eyes barely even flicking over the people she passed. It was not hard to find the altar boy. Lystra recognized him immediately, and asked him in an almost purring voice if she could be taken to the High Chaplain.
Soon her demand (Lystra never made requests) was fulfilled, the Lady being led quickly through the halls of the maze-reminiscent cathedral. The pace did not bother her in the least. If the altar boy had gone any slower, she would be irritated. But soon the door was open, Lystra let in. As soon as she was recognized, she placed her usual, fake but greeting smile on her lips, eyes darting over though her head did not move as the door clicked shut.
“High Chaplain Vensois, it is a pleasure to see you today.” Lady Maracatte’s voice was always low, almost a coo, and that was the way she liked it. She waited patiently before the door, listening for the invitation to sit, which always came. This was not her first time in Talon’s religious facilities, nor was it her first time talking to someone in the upper ranks. Lystra had talked to them many times about quiet funerals for her servants who had the unfortunate luck of falling prey to an accident. Thus far, those she had spoken with were more than glad to help, and willing to keep silent on the matter.
Lystra was hoping for the same here, now.