#lidojed

   “Are you the one that’s been stompin’ around, making those bodies? Bloody mess you always leave behind.” Spoken from the shadows with heavy shoulders; a blind beggar that posed no threat to anybody. His sentences always seeming to leave a trail.

PRIDE QUESTIONNAIRE.     /     ACCEPTING.

21. what’s an absolute turn off for you in people?

being judgmental. over anything, honestly --- the second someone gets super condescending or judgmental, i’m outta there. 

28. what’s the most annoying question you’ve ever gotten?

WITHOUT HESITATION.

   Orsino had assumed that relief was bound to wash over his being any moment now, but there was no reprieve. Fingers still twitched, coated in CORRUPTED blood ( the beast or Valtr’s? ), nerves buzzed and jumped until his muscles wished to writhe with anxiety; just like vermin pinched between forefingers. 

   “Of course I did,” cold with truth, he pointed towards the mangled beast that had wounded the MASTER of the LEAGUE. The lashes the wolf dealt were returned tenfold. A bloody mass of fur and skin peeled from muscle was strewn across the dirt, the carnage left behind done by his serrated whip. The whip had been straightened back out into its cane form. The wretched creature’s head hung on by threads of sinew. The immediate threat was gone, and now the adrenaline was only good for fretting and being ignorant to the pain that radiated from his own side. 

Tool - Reflection

   The moonlight somehow managed to pierce the battered hut, streaking through the metal door. Beyond this place, within Cathedral Ward, the moonlight had been so bright, so beautiful, cutting through the shadows. Here, however, in this murky darkness, it hardly seemed to catch any footing. The darkness sought to reclaim what the light touched, easily stealing away the colors which one might perceive in the filthy muck. How could any man live like this? Live in this hellhole, within these forbidden woods? How could anyone live with the fetid smell of death clinging to the walls, the drying earth beneath the rotting floorboards? How could any sane man stand to remain in this place, a dead body just a hare’s breath away, filthy mutated corvids hiding among the brush just outside the door? Their cries rang loudly, cutting into the stillness of the hut.

   A thousand other questions battered at the hunter’s thoughts, yet she refused to give them voice. Not now, not ever. 

   Gloved fingers fumbled a moment with the small blood vial in hand, hoping, praying it might still her thoughts. That she could forget where she was, what she was. Fingers deftly pried the cork free from the mouth of the bottle. The hot, crimson scent, coppery and sweet filled her nose the second the cork was removed. Saliva pooled in her mouth, each drop sour on her tongue, yet she swallowed it down none the less. She was no salivating beast, after all, she was a child of ancient blood which needed blood to survive.

   This was necessary.

It was no secret how stressed Val had been before. Taking care of so many children by herself, the sleepless nights and early mornings, had always taken a toll on her. But, it had been worth it. 

It's too quiet now, too empty. She still sleeps in the same rocking chair she's slept in for years, unable to touch the newly vacant beds. There's no bright side to the infanticide. 

"You know I was."

Marta doesn't understand. The past few months have been a trauma for all of Temple Gate, but it hasn't affected them all as deeply as it affected Val. She's on edge, tempted to lash out at the other woman. Marta had always been close to Knoth, seemingly encouraged his escalating violence and paranoia. But, she knows that's not true. Knoth was corrupting Marta, corrupting all of them, not the other way around. She can't pass the blame.

"Sometimes I still think I can hear the little ones crying. Wakes me up at night." She takes a deep breath, stifles the urge to continue. She knows never to say too much. 

@lidojed

      Val sat at the table in Marta’s home, copying Knoth’s scriptures from one sheet of paper to another as he’d requested of her; back ups, incase someone were to destroy the original. It wasn’t rare for her to do her work in Marta’s company; the silence of her own home was deafening. Marta had always been good company, despite how devout she was. Then again, Val surely seemed devout herself. 

      ‘And the Lord saith: you have not cut away thine eye, but the scale you took for an eye, and now you may see.’ her pen scrolled across the paper; Val hesitated, gnawing on the end of the pen. Val had been quiet that night. Something was on her mind. Something deep in the pit of her stomach that she couldn’t quite find the words to voice. 

      Marta had always been so loyal to Knoth, Val knew that. But, at the same time she had never turned Val away when she had shown up on her doorstep in tears. Marta didn’t like the violence of The Testament anymore than Val did; she could see it in her eyes. She didn’t always approve of the sins Val had to confess, but she listened and that was more than could be said for anyone else.