#ffs lmao

I just got struck with this thing and I can't stop laughing. Why is there a KFC logo on this uncanny valley wholesale Kaidan? 😭

“And our King asked me: ‘Was Jesus Christ circumcised or not?’

And I answered: “He was.”

And our King asked me: “Why do you not then circumcise yourself?””

[…] And I spoke thus: “O King, Jesus Christ was both circumcised and baptized. […] and by His baptism He annulled circumcision. I do not follow the Law as the Christ followed all the Law; I follow the Gospel[…]”

Yusuf panted, scimitar held down by his side. The blasted Frank stood before him, similar bent over, similarly panting. Similarly bloodied, similarly exhausted, similarly alive. Alive, living, breathing, the bastard, the iblis, how dare he stand in Al-Quds unharmed, how dare his god protect such a demon, such sacrilege. Yusuf spat to the side and growled. The Frank’s expression was less fury, more quiet resolve, but who could tell under all the soot and blood and his wild, unkempt hair and beard?

A commotion to the east. The Frank glanced over, sword rising. Yusuf took the opportunity to lunge forward and slice his throat again. The Frank fell to his knees, gasping, lifeblood flowing freely, staining the stones beneath their feet. Yusuf watched.

His throat healed. He could barely see it beneath the blood, but heal it did. Yusuf stabbed him again, and again, in the same spot. If he cleaved the Frank’s head from his shoulders, what then? Would he grow another head from his body, another body from his head? Like the mythic hydra, would Yusuf be stuck with two Frank’s now, multiplying endlessly until they overwhelmed Al-Quds with their sheer mass?

If tears poured down Yusuf’s face as he slashed and stabbed at the pulpy remnants that once were his pale-eyed iblis, he could not feel them. There was so much sweat and blood that there was no distinguishing tears from sweat at this late hour.

Yusuf collapsed to his knees, breathing ragged, hand sticky with blood. He dropped his scimitar, grimacing as he wiped his hand on his tunic. It did no good—his clothing was more blood than cloth, at this point. Yusuf leaned back, face tilted to the sky, and tried to draw breath.

A grunt and then pain, blinding pain. Yusuf’s head dropped to his chest as he gazed upon the longsword pierced through his groin. His iblis gazed up at him, eyes the color of the White Middle Sea. Yusuf sputtered, tried to push himself off the sword. The Frank screamed through clenched teeth, twisting his sword inside Yusuf, impaling him further and further on the blade as his own body healed. Yusuf fumbled for his scimitar, finally finding it on the ground beside him. He slashed half-heartedly at the Frank until both men pulled away. Yusuf fell backwards, stone cool beneath his cheek. His eyes closed.

He did not know if he died again or merely slept. But when he awoke no time later, his body was once again healed. He jolted, hand grasping for his scimitar hilt. There was no need at this moment, he discovered as he frantically looked around.

The Frank was sitting against a house wall, knees drawn up, longsword balanced across them, arms draped over it. His posture was slouched, despondent, but that unnerving gaze was fixed on Yusuf. As Yusuf found his bearings, the Frank began to speak. And to Yusuf’s shock, he understood.

“Who are you?” The Frank asked in ecclesiastical Greek. It wasn’t exactly the dialect Yusuf spoke, but it was close enough that he understood it.

“Who am I?” Yusuf replied. He laughed: a cruel, mean thing. The Frank’s mouth pressed in a thin line—what Yusuf could see of it from beneath that terrible rust-colored beard.

“Who am I?” Yusuf repeated. “The monster you came to kill. The religion you wish to destroy. I am your hell, you Frank bastard. Fuck you, is who am I.”

The Frank shook his head, hung it low. After a moment he looked up again. In his halting, Christian Greek, he said: “I am Nicolò.”

“Fuck. You.” Yusuf repeated.

Me at my computer: It's Latin, my dude.

Very blatantly so.

Nothing says "I know absolutely nothing about what I'm talking about but I want to sound both smart and approachable" quite like not being able to tell the difference between Hebrew, Greek, and Latin.

Like, bruh.