#hallona

I am reminded of a hollow feeling, between sadness and loathing, in the wake of newfound failings. These regrets, allowed to naturally distill, become well-considered acts of reprisal- decisive and rage. It is how we must act to separate ourselves from beasts, insects and lesser things.

But the process, as I am forced to now recall, is made less tempting by a number of factors: whether it is necessary, or deserved, or damning to respond to. Those requirements, thankfully, are all met: It must be done, it should be done and it would bring peace to my fellows. How uncommon it is that, even beyond these, I hesitate.

She had no control over this beyond doubting the fool's capacity for evil. Empathy for his plight, pity for his ineptitude and- worst by far- hope that he might improve. I warned them of how low he could sink.

Even I was not prepared for how quickly he could showcase my point. Honesty through sheer unsubtlety. Not that it deterred them. Quite the opposite: fearing what I might've done- and I might've done much- they band together more tightly, cling to their lives more fiercely.

Now?

My friend is gone. The one responsible is a threat shielded by those who don't know better, or know differently. Wrong, rather.

Must we be enemies, Cardinal? Can you see as I do?

There was clattering from behind the curtain before the woman emerged in full armour, clearly looking uncomfortable.

"It is so often that mortals draw early conclusions about we Immortals that I have come to entirely dismiss their curiosity. Frankly their minds are enervated so thoroughly by the mere passage of time that asking them to figure the answers out on their own seems to insult a great many of them. 'Why not give the answer?' They'll ask, alongside whatever colorful commentary is in fashion for their maiden tongue."

"There's no real meaning to an answer without understanding how you get there. It's common knowledge- something they should've picked up on in elementary studies. I remind them of this, and still, they feel entitled to the end result. When I refuse, they seethe. Or riot. Or weep. Or whatever else you can think of- each has their own idiotic justification, and each idiotic justification has its catastrophic ending."

"There are, as anything, exceptions to this. Some who seek knowledge for the sake of knowledge; willing to waste their lives listening to what they would eventually conclude without my aid. To those few, who want for nothing more truly than to learn, I am sorry the rest of your kind are blatant fools as opposed to self-aware ones. I'll indulge them enough to satisfy or confuse- whichever comes first."

"Yet, clueless as the lessers are, what they ask always boil down to the same general array of banal queries: 'What does it mean to live?', 'Where do we go when we die?', 'What is your favorite color?', and on and on. The answers are simple enough to defeat their want of lore in short time; eager to forget what obvious things they now recognize."

"But a query stood out, if only one. It came from a girl little more than half my height, with verdant eyes that saw hate lingering beyond its moment. The bitter, burning gaze of one betrayed by their reality at every shift and change; that failed to glean hope from their own thoughts. Let it be clear that I am not easily unnerved."

"She, through that hateful perception of the world, saw me as the enemy, as most mortals tend to do. 'Bringer of the End', 'The Great Liar', something-something- none of that stuck, but she really wanted it to. So, running routine, I dismiss their raving, reiterate that I've no ill will toward humanity in spite of its many, many, maaany flaws, and bid her to find another fixation."

"Like any well-indoctrinated fanatic, this was ignored. What I did not account for was her... spirit, for lack of a better term. Rather than enforce her religiously-charged nonsense again, she sought to know why I was the enemy."

"Why must you love being cruel?"

"To which I was taken aback: so close, so close to the question she wanted to ask. I am, after all, a reflection of the world; distorted and cold and distractingly attractive and incredibly humble. In her frustration, she'd let a part of her own psyche slip, to question what could answer her own faults. Feeling generous... I corrected her."

"Why must I love cruel things?"

"The look she gave me... rather, the look she had through me- she was pierced. I counter my detractors by tricking them into asking the right questions of their own accord, letting them spiral into madness or begrudging acceptance of their own volition. But then, that moment, that instant could have been... she would have done something foolish."

"I, myself, am no stranger to cruelty. Being cruel is entertaining, true. Being an untouchable, unfathomable thing capable of cruelty- doubly so. But I do not love being cruel, only what comes of it."

"I do not love the cruelty that befalls others, but what it makes of them. Tragedy, misery and pain twist others from what they were to what they are. If I did not love cruel things, then I could not love what is left afterward. All reality would simply be a chill, morose void of utter insignificance; for nothing could ever be appreciated."

"If one cannot love cruel things, one would be incapable of love."

"She looked at me again, her once hateful gaze suffocating from the joint weight of guilt and revelation. So long had she been astray from herself that doctrine was her only direction. What must have become of her? To convince a mortal- a child- that because she wanted to understand evil, she- herself- was evil?"

We enter the scene to see Hallona and the Lord of Traitors marching alongside each other. Little time has passed relative to their last discussion. Relative to exhaustion, however....

"....Lord of Traitors, please state an estimate of travel relative to our current position."

"Sola Mor Nine Eight Five Two Eight Five Six-"

"Estimate to six places."

We, the Devout, the Burning, the shattered remnant of they who were once whole...

Give us the strength to carry our friends and bury ours foes- to see the world as you once envisioned...

If only to know, one day, that we must grieve their loss and hear the endless hum.

The Violent!

The Righteous!

The Just.

VOX HAWG- FOR THE FRAIL!

[The Sarenites; Byron the Argent, Cardinal Hallona Warde and Lord of Traitors. Hunter of Hunters, Trusted of Saren, Bastion of Mortality]

Crack

he wrung his hands nervously, standing outside the door. he took a deep breath in (he had seen others do it) and rapped on the door three times, unsure if this was a good idea. he could just appear in the room and bypass this strange custom, but he knew it was rude and decided to do things the human way. "knock knock!" he saw cass say that once.

Moments passed at the entrance to Mercy Redoubt before a white-dressed nurse would meet Ruth's strange request. She busily addresses a subordinate attendant, her eyes away from the man as she opened the door. Turning to face him, a startled look would cross her face before recognition set in.

The woman notes his prior assistance of the Redoubt and bids him inside. Though markedly less frantic, the interior of the outpost remained tightly packed with both patient and physicians. Familiar with shuffling crowds, each silently makes passage for the rose-haired Immortal.