The gathering of people tightened around the young woman, as she laid there in a heap.
Already confusion and unacceptance swept the crowd of beautiful, eternally young, winged creatures. "She is different." They whispered angrily. "How can our gods think for us to accept her?" The woman was beautiful, like all the rest, with glorious, thick hair, and dark, ebony-coffee colored skin. Her hair, rather than be dark, was pale blue, another differnence bewtween the newcommer and the crowd of golden-haired, lightly skinned, white winged people milling around her. Their white togas swirled as they became more agitated, their bright blue eyes widening and narrowing. "She shoulld be awake by now, no matter that she is different!"
A miniscule amount of movement captured their attention. Her long, thin finger had twitched, Just slightly, it had twitched. The gathered stared as her eyes fluttered open, as pale as her hair.
The young woman stood. Her sandy-colored top fluttered lightly in the breeze, her long, tight cloth pants hugging her long legs. Beautiful sandles snaked around her ankles and lower leg.
The crowd watched in facination as she stretched, and then suddenly jumped.
A few chuckled rolled though the crowd. Dispite her being differnet, she seemed very like those that had come before her.
The woman peered over her back, facinated by what she saw.
Slowly, carefully, she spread her wings.
The woman smiled.
"Welcome." The gathered chanted in unison. "You are now a priestess of the gods. You have been accepted by them to server them. You now, only need to be accepted by us."
The elder walked forward and placed a circlet on her head. "You join us." He croaked in a deep voice.
The woman frowned. "Accepted by you?" She asked in a low, melodious voice. A gasp ran through the crowd. "How would one do that?" She continued.
The elder smiled. "Pass training. And the definition of passing training is, to survive it."
The woman squared her shoulders, and she nodded. The meaning was clear. She accepted this, and she wanted to continue.
A few new priestesses or priests were fearful, and they ran, or they didn't accept it.
"What is your name, child?" THe elder croaked.
"Ebony."
~
This is an angel-messenger-priestess, really whatever you wish it to be. She has wings.
She relates to the competition as she has the ability to soar through the clouds.
~
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