#yovani

>Your head snaps up. Where were you? Your arms rested on the cool, fammiliar wood of a desk, and you sat, facing forward, still. Your mouth moved without you controlling it.

"... A-And in the sanctity of our work, we bless you, the... The forgotten and then... The..."

>A ruler smacked onto your desk, right next to your hands. You flinched. You knew that ruler. You knew the sting of the metal as it slapped against your knuckles far too well. You slowly looked up and there he was.

>Your Ansestor, the Chosen, looked down at you. You knew him as Ukpana. You knew him as your caretaker. You knew him as your father... Or as close as trolls could call a father.

>You inhaled sharply as he raised the ruler again. He grunted, hiding a malicious grin.

"We've been over this, Yovani. If you never learn my teachings, my speeches, you can't lead the church. Do you understand how important this is, Yovani?"

>You shake your head. You don't understand... any of this. You've been here before.. but it's been sweeps. Why is he here? He's dead. He's dead and you know it. But your mouth moves again, and all you can do is listen.

"Y-Yes, Ukpana... It's important because it's our duty to trick and deceive those lesser than us so we can purge the world of their sin and unbecoming nature."

"That's right, Yovani. They're disgusting- nasty, awful. Just thinking of those murky, sickening colors..." 

>He shakes his head, going back to the front of the room, still muttering to himself. You feel yourself shiver. He's getting tense.

"Those lowblooded scum. There's no reason for them. All they are is obstacles for us, Yovani, obstacles we have to destroy. Once we've purged this world of them and punished them, Alternia will be a better place. I know this in my heart."

"... But, Ukpana..."

>He turns and you flinch. You always flinch. You knew what came next but you couldn't stop it.

"... Ukpana, some of them aren't so bad. It's... Not their fault. Some of them are really nice- I even helped a olive girl the other day outside--"

>The cool, sharp metal slashed against your cheek, like a sword weld by an old master. You cried out and your eyes watered as the cut began to pool blood. Before you could move he grabbed your hair and slammed your face into the cool, familiar wood. Your buck teeth clanged against it painfully, your circulet falling to the floor. He brought your head back up and you slowly, painfully opened your eyes, only to have your vision obscured by your blood. It stung.

>He lowered his face next to your and his voice felt like the dead, chilly winter air against your bleeding cheek.

"Yovani, the only thing worse than a lowblood is a unfaithful highblood."

>And with that, he dropped your head and left the room. You trembled and shivered. You looked down at your desk, smeared with blood. It hurt. Everything hurt. Tears welled up in your eyes and you let out a loud, pained sob.

>The sob woke you up. You sat up suddenly in bed, tears falling down your cheeks. The darkness of your bedroom was welcoming. This was reality.

>You slowly swung your legs out of your bed, the blanket falling to the floor. You stare down for a long time at your shaking hands. How long has it been since you've seen his face?... Since you've seen that frown? You slowly lean down until your wet face is pressed into your clammy hands. You were sweating. You felt like you'd just seen a ghost.

>It's been sweeps since Ukpana died. You can't remember how long exactly. But you've been happy ever since. Yes, you may have... loved him, in a way. But when he taught you, when he set your feet in cement and threw you into the lake of his expectations, you drowned. You couldn't breathe. He wanted you to be like him, to do so much... He believed in you.

>You slowly stood and automatically walked downstairs. Through the living room and to the door on the left, you opened it and climbed down slowly. Your hand felt the bare wall until you found the lightswitch.

>Your church. The carpet was gorgeous and white, soft between your bare feet. The room was pretty bare, aside from the altar, and above that his picture stood, bright, tall and saintly. You stumbled up to the altar, looking up at him. 

>He was smiling with a book in his hand. The book he- and you- followed for so long. Trick the lowbloods, bring them here. Kill them. Start again. You knew behind the altar was the door where you carried out these rituals, spraying the blood of the unlucky all over it's concrete walls. You used to enjoy it. But it's been forever since you've done the ritual. You wore your anon outfit to talk to others, though. And several times you had even brought lowbloods and mutant here to kill. But how long has it been since you carried through with it?

>You slowly laid down on the cool marble of the altar, shivering. You pressed your cheek into it. You didn't.. Like this. You never had. Sure, the killing was fun but... This wasn't what you wanted to do. You think fondly of your cello upstairs, sitting there, gathering dust. You hadn't practiced singing in sweeps either. You had dedicated your life to this... Ever since you could remember. Your passions were never first- his were.

>Your wriggling day was coming up. 9 sweeps. 9 sweeps you've been doing this shit. So now what?

- - -

>The flames licked the sides of your hive. You stood there, watching, silent. You had a few bags with you, just a few suitcases. Your cello perched on your back. You probably shouldn't have caught fire to a hive in the middle of the forest but that wasn't your problem. You slowly turned. You were dressed in your anon outfit, and you were cold. The dry winds shivered against you, pushing you back towards your burning home, as if it were your ancestors frozen words. But you couldnt go back there. Your lusus would swim out to sea soon enough after he realized you were gone.

>You took the first step away from your home. The home you had known and loved, brought it with you everywhere. And it was dying. You were done with that. Was it the right choice? To just randomly decide to burn your hive, to burn all your riches, to leave it all behind?... You honestly weren't sure. But it was too late now.

from 45 to lookin -2 in no time at all! learn his secrets to eternal youth!!

But also he really is a killer and hes really proud of that but hes just really upset that people don't see him as a threat or highbloods dont see him as a godsend

aND ITS REASONS LIKE THAT HE REALLY WANTS TO STOP DOING HIS CHURCH AND KILLING LOWBLOODS AND ANON-BLOODS AND START EMBRACING HIS CASTE AND HIS PRIVLLEGE AND HE WANTS TO BE A CELLO PLAYER IN A FAMOUS ORCHASTRA

but he feels like hes forced to follow his ancestors books and

WHO THE FUCK DO THESE JADEBLOODS THINK THEY ARE? I DON'T GIVE A SHIT WHAT THEIR FUCKING CAVERN DUTIES ARE OR IF THEY ARE MEANT TO BE SPECIAL, IF ONE MORE MAKES A JOKE ABOUT ME GETTING OUT OF THE CAVERNS EARLY OR CRACK ONE MORE "WRIGGLER TEMPER TANTRUM" JOKE WHEN I RAISE MY VOICE, I'LL REACH SHOVE MY HAND DOWN THEIR THROAT AND RIP OUT THEIR VOCAL CHORDS AND SHOVE THEM IN THEIR EARS SO THEY CAN HEAR HOW FUCKING PAINFUL THEIR OWN VOICE IS.

I AM AN ADULT AND I AM ROYALTY.