thxvoidwalker:
Curious.
The Outsider stares down at the kneeling assassin; silently pleased that after a four-thousand year existence, he could still be surprised by that which he faced. He expects resentment, just like the others. Great sight tells him that venomous words will grace his ears and ultimately melt off of his pale skin. Those lost children that thanked him for blessing the Knife with his capabilities, all seemed to turn on their heels and reject him once their powers waned due to the exile of Daud. And yet, somehow, this one verbalizes no threats; no weapons are used against the Outsider in what would be a useless act of aggression.
Instead, Cybil answers his question in earnest; voice as low as the day Daud blessed the child with the Void’s gifts while damming him to a youth of blood and sin.
“Does one truly care about survival when their very consciousness is enslaved to a much larger hive mind? Why would one ant care what consequences it faces if the queen remains safe and sound?”
“Is that what it means to be cunning? To lose yourself in something else? To remain mindless in the face of obstacles?”
“Try again.”
𝘴𝘰 𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘪𝘥 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘧𝘢𝘷𝘰𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘧𝘢𝘭𝘴𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘴𝘸𝘦𝘳, no silver tongue to save him from his own hatred. There are many questions that would haunt him, and perhaps this one would join them. how tired of this human duet the other must be, bored to death -- but why bother asking in the first place. Daud was his source of interest, not the ‘ants’ that were blessed with life without choice. marked and marred in their own ways but never the subject -- a mere background at most and a miniscule part at that of the grand picture of the old knife’s life. his mistakes. his regrets. he doubted that the whaler’s and their wasted youth was part of it, for there were those that still held him in high regard. cybil never understood why, why now that they were finally free that they would of their own volition bend at the knee once again and hand their lives o’er to the old man.
𝘣𝘪𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘯𝘦𝘴𝘴, 𝘩𝘢𝘵𝘳𝘦𝘥, 𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘳, it hums in his bones -- he wonders what song they’d sing if they could like the runes and bone charms. then if he did not want the lies -- if he knew the truth well before even cybil could, what would be the point of asking?
“ when you have lost yourself in something else, when you have never garnered your own self from the fold, there is ease in wearing a liars tongue and whatever mask you see fit. it’s never truly a lie then [...] but you already knew all that, 𝘥𝘪𝘥𝘯’𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶? ”
𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘣𝘭𝘢𝘥𝘦 𝘥𝘪𝘥 𝘩𝘦 𝘢𝘴𝘬 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘴𝘶𝘤𝘩 𝘢𝘯 𝘢𝘯𝘴𝘸𝘦𝘳? with what weapon and cruel trick had he meant to oppose upon the boy lost. both of them wearing a different face than they knew and yet it was all could be held by them now. there were many things slung upon the outsider’s name. a bastard, a devil, a god, a saint, savior and suitor. but none were rightly worn. and what of the most simple answer yet : 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘩𝘪𝘭𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘭𝘦𝘧𝘵 𝘣𝘦𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘥.
𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘶𝘱𝘱𝘰𝘴𝘦𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘴𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘦𝘥 𝘪𝘯 𝘴𝘶𝘤𝘩 𝘢 𝘳𝘰𝘭𝘦.
