Erybelle: Push her for more details on the Priest.
From Create Your Own Story
"Is that all he did? Just called you bunch of names and leave?" You ask in a quiet voice, laying a reassuring hand on her shoulder as you look her in the eye. Just as you thought, her eyes dart away.
"Well, yes. But he called us witches, Ery. Not just Shipping Witches either, you know, the playful sense. He meant it. As in evildoers, wives of the Devil, death bringers, the real deal. God..." Maple trails off. You don't think you've ever seen her this distraught before.
"T-That's okay! Just because he says we're something doesn't mean we really are, right?" You give a forceful laugh that doesn't seem to lift the eerie mood that's settled over the Square. The fog has thickened, and just in the distance you see shadows and the gleaming of a flame.
"What could that be?" Maple mutters, raising herself from her seat and squinting. She moves in front of you protectively. Slowly the figures make their way closer toward you and you see them for what they really are. Their voices chant low and hoarse, their lit torches dance in the sombre air. The hands that do not carry fire have other weapons like pitchforks and lances.
"Thats... that's him!" She squeaks and points, waving her hands frantically until you see him. A churchman. No, the Priest from the Cathedral. His eyes burning holes into you, holding up his Bible to the sky. They're coming for you, you can feel it.
Your whole body screams for you to move, to run, to do anything at all but you're frozen in place. Helplessly you look to Maple. She's always been the one that was brave, the one that would protect you, but you've never seen her this afraid before, her hands tremble as you grab hold of them. You know that this time it's going to have to be up to you.
You tug at her harshly, dragging her away from the outraged horde that creeps ever closer. When you turn to run though, they rush at you with their fire and your death. Everything is pain and burning, kicks and punches. Hands are everywhere, holding you back, holding you down, and rope is tied tightly around your wrists and legs. It digs into your flesh and cuts off your circulation as they croon, 'Burn the witch! Burn the witch!' and raise you above their heads.
Black spots float in your eyes and your head sings with dizziness. You attempt to make some kind of movement but find you're too weak to even try. You have no clue where they're taking you, where Maple is or what will happen, but the one thing you do know is that today you will die. Tears pinprick your eyes but refuse to fall. There was so much you hadn't done yet, so many things you wished you had said when you still had the chance. Your eyes glance forward and see the gallows where they hang criminals. This time a wooden stake juts from the earth, around it is a platform surrounded by dry twigs and branches of all kind. Your coffin.
With rough shoves and crude pushes they bind you to the stake with more rope. The crowd gathers in front of you and Maple, who you can barely see out of the corner of your eye. Their eyes are clouded with hatred and disgust, and you're shocked to see some of your customers in the crowd. You feel something rise up from your stomach, something that burns and hurts and you can't stand the feel of it.
It's forgiveness.
What should you do now?
