The girl before you looked as tired as she had previous nights, the dirty white of her hair framing her face in loose curls, a gentle smile plastering her expression. The two of you had been meeting like this for some weeks now, though you never caught her name, it was a pleasant arrangement. The two of you would meet up in the tavern after sun fall and share tales and drinks. It usually took a drink or two before either of you had a topic of conversation. Today however was different, you had barely a sip of your own drink before she pipes up.
“When a god can only bring polluting destruction, what do you believe would be an appropriate sacrifice? Whose blood should be shed for it to bring a better tomorrow?”
The bluntness of her question caused you to choke on your drink, the thick liquid getting caught and burning the back of your throat. Seemingly unfazed by your sputtering she continues.
“For that is the goal of a sacrifice, of a body to be striped bear and a life taken on an altar. To bring about a better tomorrow. So, what should I give my Uncoiling? A god so vile and uncaring that no matter your moral stance any change it would bring would be seen as a turn for the worse. After all it's the great unwinding of all things, reality itself becoming undone.”
She takes a swig of her own drink, as you continue to stare in silence unsure of what to say, if there was anything you could say. Placing the empty tankard on the table her gaze slowly raises back to meet your own, become wistful, the thoughts playing on her mind becoming words no longer directed at you.
“Obviously no sacrifice is without burden. He who wields the knife will always be forced to carry guilt, guilt of the decision, guilt of action. The knife is heavy. And I think that's what makes me love my Uncoiling so, as I said it is the unwinding of EVERYTHING. Itself included. One day the god will lie upon its own alter, wield its own dagger, and slit its own throat. And through its death will the destruction it brings cease, though its death it will bring a better tomorrow. A dead god can feel no guilt it would be the first and last perfect sacrifice. A sacrifice with no burden.”
A soft sigh escapes her lips as her speech comes to an end, a mix of hope, fear, sadness and wonder all flash across her face in sequence finally settling on something gentle and calm. Content.