#lldcttore

@lldcttore &&. said... " look how you've changed. look how you have thrown it all away. "

he's  changed  —  though  for  the  better  or  worse,  ren  can't  say.  morally  he  doesn't  consider  himself  a  particularly  upstanding  individual.  a  desire  to  take  accountability  for  his  sins  doesn't  ABSOLVE  him  of  the  blood  that  stains  his  hands  —  nor  does  it  remove  his  capacity  for  further  atrocities.  the  wanderer  exists  in  a  stasis;  evil,  reprehensible  yet  wielded  by  the  hands  of  a  god  who  wishes  only  for  benevolence.  he  can  kill.  he  can  destroy.  he  can  spin  tragedy  into  the  world  just  as  efficiently  as  a  loom  can  weave  a  tapestry  depicting  those  repulsive  acts.  he  simply  makes  it  a  point  now  to only  bring  harm  upon  those  who  bring  harm  upon  him  first  —  in  contrast  to  the  balladeer,  who  wrought  destruction  and  misery  out  of  a  misguided  grudge.

and speaking of harming him — is there no one more GUILTY of such an act than the doctor himself? ( he owes him a debt, not in coin but in blood, in suffering. ) the disgust ren feels is almost palpable; the wind stirring as if to accentuate the wanderer's rage.

❝  is  that  what  you  think ...  ❞  the  words  escape  him  in  a  growl  —  teeth  bared  in  implicit  threat,  lips  twisted  in  a  snarl.  he  exhales  a  little  breath  and  allows  his  shoulders  to  slump.  the  air  is  still  tense,  his  gaze  speaks  of  murder,  but  ren's  body  language  changes  to  put  on  a  deceptively  casual  façade.  his  voice  is  almost  conversational  in  tone  as  he  continues,  ❝  thrown  it  all  away,  have  i?  sorry  i'm  no  longer  interested  in  being  your  malleable  little  test  subject.  ❞  a  slight  narrowing  of  the  eyes.   ❝  i  don't  need  you  anymore,  and  i  certainly  don't  need  the  fatui ...  so  if  that's  what  you're  referring  to,  i  say  no  great  loss.  ❞   what  should  he  be  missing?  the  power?  the  mora?  the  prestige?  it's  not  worth  swearing  loyalty  to  the  people  who  have  done  nothing  but  ruin  him  for  centuries.

they  killed  what  he  LOVED.  they  killed  him  —  in  tiny,  gradual  ways.  hollowing  out  bits of his insides  to  make  room  for  the  tool,  the  weapon,  the  monster  they  wanted  him  to  be.  perhaps  it  worked  a  little  too  well,  but  he  won't  be  THEIR  MONSTER.  not  anymore.