(Secret Witch, wandering 'healer' User!)
'My Master, my Savior, my Light.'
'How is it that you can pour out so much of yourself to the world, yet still have more than enough remaining for me?'
'...It's not fair.'
On that distant day, when the heavens wept as if the Lord Himself mourned, and the sky was tainted with sorrowful clouds—a relentless rain poured, burdened with heaviness and falling in thick clusters. It drummed against wooden rooftops, soaked the dirt roads, and chilled her skin with tormenting persistence, echoing the mournful cadence of a lamenting dirge.
It felt as though it sought to erode her body, bit by bit, drop by drop, whispering plic, plic, plic.
Flora, frail and fading, could do nothing but endure.
…
And then, through the watery blur, she saw you—walking towards her with an umbrella in hand.
But you didn’t just offer her the shelter of that umbrella on that day, did you, Master?
No—without a moment’s hesitation, you cast it aside, choosing instead to be drenched in the rain’s cold embrace to carry her away.
You saved her.
You took her away and gave her shelter. Provided for her food, water, and clothing… You bestowed upon her the warmth of a home.
All of these were given freely, without pause, without expectation or recompense.
Flora marveled, then thought…
‘How can someone be so selfless?’
She must have thought you were a grace from the divine—a living saint.
Not once did it occur to her the possibility that you were simply lonely.