You have been good, you have been right. For the most part in the last 5 sweeps, you’ve been behaving pretty fairly. Your outbursts even reduced to almost non-existence and the very few times you awakened, you didn’t gore out the locals too much. Sure, there have been a few accidents here and there, but again, for the most part, you didn’t rise suspicion onto your cult. The good thing is that you hadn’t actually harmed a seadweller in a long time. The last time you did your church was under investigation for a while- the murder of a higher blooded troll was always a pain to deal with. Legislacerators left and right, their dirty heretics feet tampering with the holy ground at the edge of your city.
Tonight was different. You could feel it in the way your muscles shifted. When you went to sleep earlier that day, you suffered phantom pains in your missing limb. You knew what was going to happen. You never remembered what happened in one of those righteous moments, but you do know from the blood caking under your nails that you were quite the pious motherfuckers and that heretics blood was spilled.
You never really worried about the consequences because it seemed like your alter was smart enough not to attack your kin. You believe that maybe, just maybe, it’s the Mirthful Messiah working through you to get rid of the Tainted. You never questioned but you never voiced that thought aloud either. You think that it would be disrespectful to believe yourself an equal to The Grand Highblood, but your pusher does feel a little pride knowing that you were a little different than your brothers, in His Great Messiah’s sight. Otherwise, why would he have granted you such power? Why would he have made you an Archbishop, only third in rank after the Grand Highblood?
You had to be someone important in His eyes to have risen so far, so high. So, it’s with pride that you closed your eyes, and zealousness that you reopened them a few hours later, at the break of dusk. There was an undeniable gleam into your beautiful purple eyes and an unparalleled wickedness to the edge of your grin. All tooth and smile, you greeted your followers before making your way out of your territory. Maybe you’d go into the city and paint a mural in His name somewhere in an alley. You just needed to let Him guide your steps, find the tainted, the heretic, the one who had you rising up with such conviction. After all, there had to be someone to cleanse, if the Messiah had you in this state.
Licking your painted lips, the taste of wax and makeup stained your tongue. You breathe in slowly, turn your crazed gaze to the night sky and grinned. Grinned so widly and so eerily that if someone came by, they’d wonder if you’d split your pan somewhere.
You think, maybe, you’d like to stay there and stare at the night sky some more, but then there’s a loud jackass coming your way. Once you set your gaze on him, you seal your lips in a thin line and stretch them exaggeratedly to try and contain your smile.
“How blessed is the follower that walketh not in the counsel of the ungodly, nor standeth in the way of sinners, nor sitteth in the seat of the scornful.
But his delight is in the law of the MESSIAH; and in his law doth he meditate EVERY NIGHT.
And he shall be like a tree planted by the rivers of water, that bringeth forth his fruit in his season; his leaf also shall not wither; and whatsoever he doeth shall prosper.
The ungodly are not so: but are like the chaff which the wind driveth away.
Therefore the ungodly shall not stand, nor sinners in the congregation of the righteous.
For the MESSIAH knoweth the way of the righteous: but the ungodly SHALL PERISH.”
You whisper in the name of your messiah. You found Him. He is in every fibers and cells that animates your body and they move toward His desire, the taste of slaughter ever so present in the back of your throat.
There shall be No Mercy for the abandoned children.
