[Quiet Man Cometh]

With few options but to stare straight up, Tarja took in the glory of the presence of the Celestrine, or what she could make of it. Her vision was blurring, the holy corona coming from the tower appearing less distinct with each passing second as she focused her mind on keeping her body together, blood seeping from crushing wounds and punctures.

Her arm was numb, but she at retained enough awareness of herself to make a fair assumption that it was still attached. She refused to close her eyes.

A dark blur was making its way down the wall, then more in increasing numbers. She remained where she was, attempting to stem her own bleeding, and thought briefly whether it had been wise to enter Zacchaeus' payroll.