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Lirriel's picture

It was never prayer that came to mind, but music.

Self-augments were chimes, a soft cascade of bells.

The small spells that let out just a bit of healing over time felt like the strumming of a harp.

Darkness struck to tentatively scratching violins, or nervous trilling flutes.

Heavy spells that blasted an area, a group, or brought someone back from the brink, vibrated her frame with rolling timpani.

She sang wordlessly, empowering spells that restored energy to those who could hear.

She listened to her favorite composers, and felt closer to the Light than she ever had in prayer.