<< Salazar >> entered the chapel even as his pack was moving to the dark event celebrating excess and blood. They walked together to it and he walked alone. His footsteps were empty in this place and the silence echoed around him. Each step reminded him that he was alone. He’d made his choice and now he stood as one while the others were together. He was dressed in simple black clothing that fit his mood well. Somber, isolated, pennant.

The walk to the front of the church was long and seemed cold to him. He stood before the alter for a long moment and then gracefully sank to his knees and crossed himself as his head was bowed in prayer.

<< Salazar >> didn’t need to breathe as he prayed, but he kept the habit as something to ground him in the small intimate chapel. Though he’d fed recently, the hunger of his fast before him already made itself known in anticipation. He would not give in though. Until the finally of the Palla Grande he would remain cloistered in this chapel and fast. The loneliness and hunger would drain him by the end of it, but the trial was part of

penance.

<< Salazar >> didn’t move for the duration of the night. From sunset to sunrise he’d remain where he was on his knees before the Alter. If it was safe to do so, he’d even remain there after the sun rose, collapsing where he prayed only to wake and drag himself back into a kneeling position to continue praying the following night.