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I do not know.
There is a moment where in my penance where I see my own face back then, lips pulled back in a snarl, my body positively vibrating with the Light.
Knives sink into hearts, the bodies sagging and letting out a rattle, my plasma shots as quiet as I could make them, a low *twooch* in the darkness after a brief flash of red only to blossom into a darker red. Sometimes it was green, sometimes it was black, but every time my shot was true.
I wonder how Ayliar does it. How she can bear it, how the guilt doesn't curl inside her like an orboros and consume her. Then I remember--she was born for this. I was just plucked from the streets by Her Holiness Herself as an older child, a starving little thing with red glowing eyes full of rage at the world around me that had abandoned me. And She saw that rage and tempered it, said I was to be her Daughter's greatest weapon, said I was to help lead the Imperium become its true self.
Oh, how did it break my heart to tell her after 43 years 7 weeks and 4 days that I could no longer kill, that someone else would have to be Soluk's weapon, that I had failed her in her task. And She just smiled and touched my cheek, my horns sprouting in Empress Kisses for the first and only time in my life and she said the three words I longed to hear with every fiber of my being:
"I forgive you."
I asked then if I could serve as one of Her mouthpieces aboard the Valiant Aid since it had become my home. And since the ship lacked a Chaplin, She would agree. That would close one chapter of my life and start a new one.
But that did not stop the memories. Memories like old blood on silk, unable to be cleaned, marring me and tattooing my soul. Only Soluk and Ayliar knew of my past--the rest of the crew had not been assembled yet when I gave up my duties--and I give no indication of it. After all, who would trust my sermons of non-violence when I myself had committed horrific acts of violence in my past?
Sometimes I go to the First Daughter and tell her my misgivings, ask if I am enough for this position. Every time, she sounds like her Mother and says, "Oh Empyerian, I cannot imagine this ship without you, you must forgive yourself."
But that's the problem: I do not know how to.
There is a moment where in my penance where I see my own face back then, lips pulled back in a snarl, my body positively vibrating with the Light.
Knives sink into hearts, the bodies sagging and letting out a rattle, my plasma shots as quiet as I could make them, a low *twooch* in the darkness after a brief flash of red only to blossom into a darker red. Sometimes it was green, sometimes it was black, but every time my shot was true.
I wonder how Ayliar does it. How she can bear it, how the guilt doesn't curl inside her like an orboros and consume her. Then I remember--she was born for this. I was just plucked from the streets by Her Holiness Herself as an older child, a starving little thing with red glowing eyes full of rage at the world around me that had abandoned me. And She saw that rage and tempered it, said I was to be her Daughter's greatest weapon, said I was to help lead the Imperium become its true self.
Oh, how did it break my heart to tell her after 43 years 7 weeks and 4 days that I could no longer kill, that someone else would have to be Soluk's weapon, that I had failed her in her task. And She just smiled and touched my cheek, my horns sprouting in Empress Kisses for the first and only time in my life and she said the three words I longed to hear with every fiber of my being:
"I forgive you."
I asked then if I could serve as one of Her mouthpieces aboard the Valiant Aid since it had become my home. And since the ship lacked a Chaplin, She would agree. That would close one chapter of my life and start a new one.
But that did not stop the memories. Memories like old blood on silk, unable to be cleaned, marring me and tattooing my soul. Only Soluk and Ayliar knew of my past--the rest of the crew had not been assembled yet when I gave up my duties--and I give no indication of it. After all, who would trust my sermons of non-violence when I myself had committed horrific acts of violence in my past?
Sometimes I go to the First Daughter and tell her my misgivings, ask if I am enough for this position. Every time, she sounds like her Mother and says, "Oh Empyerian, I cannot imagine this ship without you, you must forgive yourself."
But that's the problem: I do not know how to.
Category Artwork (Digital) / Fantasy
Species Wolf
Size 1833 x 3207px
File Size 2.88 MB
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