Kaelie/The Scepter

Hitching in a breath, she uses the back of her hand to wipe tears off her cheek. She thinks to herself, "Why are you crying? You made this decision. You are supported by everyone. Stop it." She hisses through her teeth, reprimanding her internal monologue for not understanding how hard this is for her.

She plops down onto her favorite chair, scooping up the white kitten before it careens off into the rafters, looking it in the eyes she explains, "I have to let it go so that it can grow. It's important.", she drops the squirming ball of now hissing fur and gives a half smirk as it zooms itself nearly into the wall before disappearing under the bed.

She gets a golden scepter topped with an iridescent crystal shard from inside her silveress pack. With a practiced ease from years of handling it she twirls it through her fingers and across the back of her hand, whipping her arm up at just the right time so that it leaps into the air where she snatches it out of reflex. She smiles. She's going to miss that.

Inspecting the span of the scepter, etched along the length of the polished gold shaft is a meticulous detailing of the Provincial Orders Administrator's crest. There is a ding near the end from where she dropped it the very first time Valkhan handed it to her. She was so nervous. People put trust in her to make sure she spoke true for the Council and the Members. Her one voice carried the desires and wishes of her Council to the Administrator. She knew she would be looked at as a leader even if her only true power was to make sure she kicked and licked her scepter ten minutes before any event. Her nose wrinkles, her voice in dismay, "How many people have licked this?" She shudders, then shrugs, she'll wipe it down before Karturis gets it.

The pad of her finger goes over the Administrator's crest. She thinks, "Never realized the Order crest was not represented on his before now. And for certain isn't labeled "Kaelies' Scepter". Her eyes rake over the often held but never truly inspected item, the gold polish dulled from being handled. She grips it, as most would, her hand actually feeling the smoothness and remembers that she is not the only one that has held and waved this and she for sure will not be the last. Her missive to Valkhan earlier ensured that. Her eyes well again with yet unshed tears, she blinks slowly, knowing that will flush them free to roll down her cheeks. There will be more to come. But she is good with that (the internal voice must agree, it isn't mocking her) because none of them taste bitter. They don't sting. She has pride in what she has done and what she still gets to be a part of.