Sitting there, surrounded by monks (and the odd visitor), in this large room, feeling the raindrops kiss his worn skin.... Zefiyron had felt the anger and the pain and all the deep, dark blue sorrow trickle out of him, falling down to the floor and flowing out of the temple with the rainwater. The soft "plish" of the raindrops hitting the layer of water on the temple floor had echoed slightly in the domed room, filling the air with its gentle tone. He had felt at peace, for the first time in many months.
Even just standing here, looking about at the smooth, worn floor and the elegant carvings on the rounded stone walls, Zefiyron found himself relaxing, his mind calming and a gentle sense of contentment washing over him.
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