@hereticalmother / val.
“Not all of us. My children and I… We are the apostates. The heretics. We lost our faith long ago, when we saw the truth, delivered unto us in sleep. Stay clear of Papa Knoth and his disciples. They’ll fill your head with filth and claim it holy.”
a moment of consideration as alice listens to her words. so there was a difference to be discerned between them: the succinct explanation makes her glad to have asked. perhaps it wasn’t so terrible to deviate from what she has seen thus far. alice isn’t entirely certain of how safe she is here, but it has to be better than fleeing townspeople who all seem to believe she’s somebody she isn’t. the girl finds that she misses her father terribly, sickness panging in her gut, although she’s glad he didn’t follow her through the desert. at least she hopes he hasn’t found his way here.
❛ unto sleep... ❜ she echoes the unfamiliar phrase on her tongue. the uncanny concept of prophecy is a strange dish to consume, but alice still listens intently and gives her words gravity. nothing makes sense anymore —— she’s sure that she’s already beheld stranger things tonight than this interesting bit of dialogue between them. ❛ so papa knoth... is the man over the speakers? do they want to kill me? i didn’t do anything! ❜
