I am reminded of a hollow feeling, between sadness and loathing, in the wake of newfound failings. These regrets, allowed to naturally distill, become well-considered acts of reprisal- decisive and rage. It is how we must act to separate ourselves from beasts, insects and lesser things.
But the process, as I am forced to now recall, is made less tempting by a number of factors: whether it is necessary, or deserved, or damning to respond to. Those requirements, thankfully, are all met: It must be done, it should be done and it would bring peace to my fellows. How uncommon it is that, even beyond these, I hesitate.
She had no control over this beyond doubting the fool's capacity for evil. Empathy for his plight, pity for his ineptitude and- worst by far- hope that he might improve. I warned them of how low he could sink.
Even I was not prepared for how quickly he could showcase my point. Honesty through sheer unsubtlety. Not that it deterred them. Quite the opposite: fearing what I might've done- and I might've done much- they band together more tightly, cling to their lives more fiercely.
Now?
My friend is gone. The one responsible is a threat shielded by those who don't know better, or know differently. Wrong, rather.
Must we be enemies, Cardinal? Can you see as I do?
"It is so often that mortals draw early conclusions about we Immortals that I have come to entirely dismiss their curiosity. Frankly their minds are enervated so thoroughly by the mere passage of time that asking them to figure the answers out on their own seems to insult a great many of them. 'Why not give the answer?' They'll ask, alongside whatever colorful commentary is in fashion for their maiden tongue."
"There's no real meaning to an answer without understanding how you get there. It's common knowledge- something they should've picked up on in elementary studies. I remind them of this, and still, they feel entitled to the end result. When I refuse, they seethe. Or riot. Or weep. Or whatever else you can think of- each has their own idiotic justification, and each idiotic justification has its catastrophic ending."
"There are, as anything, exceptions to this. Some who seek knowledge for the sake of knowledge; willing to waste their lives listening to what they would eventually conclude without my aid. To those few, who want for nothing more truly than to learn, I am sorry the rest of your kind are blatant fools as opposed to self-aware ones. I'll indulge them enough to satisfy or confuse- whichever comes first."
"Yet, clueless as the lessers are, what they ask always boil down to the same general array of banal queries: 'What does it mean to live?', 'Where do we go when we die?', 'What is your favorite color?', and on and on. The answers are simple enough to defeat their want of lore in short time; eager to forget what obvious things they now recognize."
"But a query stood out, if only one. It came from a girl little more than half my height, with verdant eyes that saw hate lingering beyond its moment. The bitter, burning gaze of one betrayed by their reality at every shift and change; that failed to glean hope from their own thoughts. Let it be clear that I am not easily unnerved."
"She, through that hateful perception of the world, saw me as the enemy, as most mortals tend to do. 'Bringer of the End', 'The Great Liar', something-something- none of that stuck, but she really wanted it to. So, running routine, I dismiss their raving, reiterate that I've no ill will toward humanity in spite of its many, many, maaany flaws, and bid her to find another fixation."
"Like any well-indoctrinated fanatic, this was ignored. What I did not account for was her... spirit, for lack of a better term. Rather than enforce her religiously-charged nonsense again, she sought to know why I was the enemy."
"Why must you love being cruel?"
"To which I was taken aback: so close, so close to the question she wanted to ask. I am, after all, a reflection of the world; distorted and cold and distractingly attractive and incredibly humble. In her frustration, she'd let a part of her own psyche slip, to question what could answer her own faults. Feeling generous... I corrected her."
"Why must I love cruel things?"
"The look she gave me... rather, the look she had through me- she was pierced. I counter my detractors by tricking them into asking the right questions of their own accord, letting them spiral into madness or begrudging acceptance of their own volition. But then, that moment, that instant could have been... she would have done something foolish."
"I, myself, am no stranger to cruelty. Being cruel is entertaining, true. Being an untouchable, unfathomable thing capable of cruelty- doubly so. But I do not love being cruel, only what comes of it."
"I do not love the cruelty that befalls others, but what it makes of them. Tragedy, misery and pain twist others from what they were to what they are. If I did not love cruel things, then I could not love what is left afterward. All reality would simply be a chill, morose void of utter insignificance; for nothing could ever be appreciated."
"If one cannot love cruel things, one would be incapable of love."
"She looked at me again, her once hateful gaze suffocating from the joint weight of guilt and revelation. So long had she been astray from herself that doctrine was her only direction. What must have become of her? To convince a mortal- a child- that because she wanted to understand evil, she- herself- was evil?"
"Of course, this collision of truth and memory was overwhelming for her, and she reached for a blade. Took my leave, but no offense- like any lesser, she would need time to understand. Wherever her travels took her then-onward, she would see the answer on the horizon as a dim torch within the mirror-fog of faith."
We enter the scene to see Hallona and the Lord of Traitors marching alongside each other. Little time has passed relative to their last discussion. Relative to exhaustion, however....
"....Lord of Traitors, please state an estimate of travel relative to our current position."
"Sola Mor Nine Eight Five Two Eight Five Six-"
"Estimate to six places."
"Sola Mor Nine Eight Five dash Two Seven Seven, proceeding southwest at an even cadence of 7 kilometers per hour; crosswind slowing progress, humidity of ground-"
"Ignore environmental factors."
"Sola Mor Nine Eight Five dash Two Seven Seven, proceeding southwest at an even cadence of 7 kilometers per hour; noting temperance and status of attached personnel to be below average-"
"Excuse you?"
"-to be suitable for travel. Remaining distance approximated to 5.483 kilometers. Estimating arrival at entry point by Time-1947."
The Cardinal Hallona glances up to the night sky, the sun having fallen what felt like hours ago.
"...Re-state with regards time estimated for travel."
Hallona's gaze falls back to the ground, looking at the vast, yet-untread path left to march.
With a quiet tsk, the bags under her eyes becoming heavier by the mere sight. There is a brief silence as she considers the situation. With a hesitant flutter in her voice, Hallona addresses the Lord of Traitors once more.
"......Cite using standard terminology?-"
"We are not there yet, Cardinal."
"I know that, but-"
"You do not understand?"
"Well, you said it so quickly."
"....I did not change my rate of speech."
"It seemed quick."
"Have you considered that embarking on an 18-hour march without having rest and exercised for several days may have had an ill effect on your cognitive ability."
"Wh-What? Preposterous. "So long as I am with purpose, I am without weakness."
"Page 246, Verse 5."
Hallona chuckles to herself, straightening her posture victoriously.
"....The context of that passage references the indomitable strength of many, Cardinal."
"Well, I am many things!"
"You are one person."
Hallona darts her eyes at Lord of Traitors, whose vision remains affixed on the path ahead.
"Do you doubt my ability, Lord of Traitors?"
"I do not doubt it. However, I am capable of understanding you."
"As a Cardinal of the Sarenites."
"As a woman."
There is a great and deafening silence. Lord of Traitors' head slowly turns to face Hallona, whose eyes betray a quiet, seething rage.
"-As a well-trained, highly educated, physically fit woman who is only capable of so much."
"Now you're most certainly speaking quicker than usual."
"I am not, but I am averse to conflict where it is unnecessary."
"Are you sure? Perhaps conflict would help us resolve this difference."
"No."
"Certain?"
"Yes."
"Good-"
"You are not without limit, Cardinal."
Hallona's half-heated anger fades with his final point. She lets out a defeated, groaning sigh.
"...I realize. But we must press on."
"But not today."
"Yes, today."
"....I do not wish to see you harmed-"
"-Thank you-"
"-In a way we have discussed prior to engagement. You cannot be expected perform if you are to enter combat fatigued."
"Then it's very fortunate we don't intend to engage the target."
"You are ignoring the expectation-"
"I have ignored NO detail."
The pair are quiet. Hallona's frustrated breaths and the sound of muddied boots against the ground are all that fill the air.
A moment passes. The Lord of Traitors flexes his fingers at his sides. Hallona looks off and away from the road, trying to find another distraction to hold her focus.
"......Purposefully underestimating the likelihood of a negative response is unwise.... Cardinal."
There is no response.
"...You have the right to retain hope."
"...Not at the cost of your well being."
Hallona's face betrays her fear of the situation, though her expression goes unseen by the Lord of Traitors.
"Let us refrain from idle discussion for the time."
"...Alright."
The two continue their march quietly for around thirty seconds.
"..........Forty-three minutes."
"Hm?"
"Forty-three minutes, Cardinal."
"....Oh, you mean... remaining. Right. Yes that's... reasonable."
"It is."
"....I guess I could have... done the math."
"You did not."
"I was expecting you to tell me."
"I did."
"Yes, but... earlier."
"You asked the wrong question to receive that answer."
"I did no such thing."
" "How much longer?" "
"....How much longer....?"
"The question you should have asked. "How much longer?" "
"....You didn't seem the type to appreciate non-specific questions."
"....I am not incapable of reading intent. I... have difficulties. It would be beneficial if you were to ask what you mean to ask."
"....I.... apologize."
"There is no need."
"...But-"
"There is no need."
The two look back to the path ahead. In the distance, the peaks of a vast wood rise into view. The two look toward the night's horizon with quiet confidence.
"Is it not heresy we commit, Father?!" The young girl cried, her willful silence torn from her throat. The elder man behind her relented in the strikes of the whip. He sighs exhaustedly.
"Again wit' your welshing, girl? I 'row tired of this queshtion, Hallona!" He bellows, striking her again.
Crack
She writhes as the leather connects, biting her tongue flatly to endure.
"They are monshters! Beashts! Ignorant, lying things that seek only to shurvive- who would leave ush to ROT."
"But those are our words, not theirs! We have not listened, we have not-"
Crack
She cries out again, breathing in qu-
Crack Crack
"AGHaAAH-ngH.... Father, please, they- they-" She trails off through pained sobs. The pastor growls, barking something she cannot hear through her own whines.
Crack
Biting through the tip of her tongue, she speaks her mind through the agony.
"Are we right to believe that death has meaning?!" She manages.
Crack
She writhes into her back, screaming her query louder.
"To inflict that belief upon the innocent?! They can reason, Father, they can-."
Crack
"Shtupid GIRL. They lie to themselvesh. They lie to EVERYTHING. They lie, that we may shpeak TRUTH, and RID THEM from THIS NOBLE EXISTENCE."
Crack
"-They don't-"
Crack
"-knOW! They don't-"
CrackCrack
"-THEY DON'T KNOW."
Crack
"THEY DON'T KNOW- PLEASE, FATHER-."
Hallona awakens as the next whip would strike, eyes wide and breathing harshly. Her arms twist to clutch at her back, feeling the faintest remembrance of the wounds. In the privacy of her quarters, she steps from her bedspread in distress.
The creak of the wood-
Crack
"haH-...AHH..." She whines sharply, rushing to the stand that hosts her breastplate. Wincing as her hands stop comforting her wounds-
Crack
"ggAH.-AH..." Hallona squeals, biting her tongue with great force as she had become so familiar. Her hands move quickly to dress her torso in mail, the metal flaking down against her skin-
Crack
She growls, suppressing her thoughts as she donned her breastplate. Leather straps touched both sides of her-
CrackCrack
She endures again. Her upper body now entirely coated in steel and tied tight, she pats her back again instinctively....
Nothing. The feeling of cold metal on her palm. Hallona gasps in pain as she opens her mouth, now filled with the taste of iron. She covers her mouth with her palm, attempting to staunch the flow. Crumpling to her rear, Hallona plants her back against the wall gently, pulling her knee to her chest.
Rocking slowly, she closes her eyes as tears begin to roll.
he wrung his hands nervously, standing outside the door. he took a deep breath in (he had seen others do it) and rapped on the door three times, unsure if this was a good idea. he could just appear in the room and bypass this strange custom, but he knew it was rude and decided to do things the human way.
"knock knock!"
he saw cass say that once.
Moments passed at the entrance to Mercy Redoubt before a white-dressed nurse would meet Ruth's strange request. She busily addresses a subordinate attendant, her eyes away from the man as she opened the door. Turning to face him, a startled look would cross her face before recognition set in.
The woman notes his prior assistance of the Redoubt and bids him inside. Though markedly less frantic, the interior of the outpost remained tightly packed with both patient and physicians. Familiar with shuffling crowds, each silently makes passage for the rose-haired Immortal.
The heavy oaken door to the Redoubt's Operations Room is sealed; a set of voices in the midst of conversation behind it.
