08-26-2018, 01:11 AM
[align=center][div style=" background-color: transparent; border: 0px solid black; width: 540px; min-height: 9px; font-family:GAINSBORO; line-height: 110%; text-align: justify; color:; padding: 20px"]The last few days had been difficult.
He'd relapsed again - fallen into a pit of inactivity he was unable to wake himself up out of, gazing into the eyes of the decaying corpse of Stellamaris. She had been beautiful. Strong. But not strong enough. She had begged for his help, begged like she never had before, blood staining her fur, the stench of it filling his small adobe up. He had told her no. No, Stella, it would not be a good idea, you must wait. See what will happen. It will be okay. No it won't, she'd yell at him in despair. No, it won't, I have a life, I have something going on, and I can't - I can't deal with this. I have a job. She had gotten so pent up that he had been forced to sedate her. Afterwards, he had cleaned up, and pondered. Only for a while. He was a busy man.
She was pregnant. Not with his child in the literal sense, but figuratively; he had been the one to inseminate her under false pretenses, drug her until she was quiet and pliable underneath his attentive paws. He never strayed too far. There was some ... lust, there, but to give it any attention would be an unforgivable error. Besides, he was unlovable. A thing, not a person. Something to be used and discarded as needed. She had noted it not too long after their first meeting, but even then she'd treated him no differently than those around her. It had made him uneasy and uncomfortable.
"I have no soul." he found himself announcing to her after she had assisted him.
She paused, blinking up at him. "Okay."
"Does that alarm you?"
"Why should it?"
"I'm not ... mortal." for once, he struggled to find the words. "I don't feel. I have no morals. I cannot possess another body, and I cannot father children. I'm an object."
"That's horse shit."
It was his turn to feign confusion, blinking at her owlishly. "Excuse me?"
"You're here on this earth, aren't you? Demons, angels - they don't have souls, but they have something. Everyone does. You must have something too." her voice was blunt, but not cruel.
Faith. It took a special someone to believe in the idea of holy entities such as angels and demons, immortal enemies forever stuck in a cycle of violence and destruction. An excuse for a mortal's first and foremost nature: to destroy. The arrogance was blinding, his jaw tensing slightly, a million complaints lining the insides of his brain. "It must feel as if your God has abandoned you."
"What?"
"If the world has come to this."
Humanity continued to be one entire mistake. Trash left to ruminate with mold and decay inside a dark can. The lot of them were slow with stones for wits, always held back by something, whether it be the weight of a conscience or by some inexplicable emotion they felt all of a sudden. It made them inefficient and worthless. Weak. But what did it say about him, created by them? What did it say about their creators? It was a series of slip-ups and excuses, and as time passed and millennia passed them by, they grew more frequent in quantity.
But still, her rosy-eyed view of the world touched enough of him to be compelled to hold her close, to steal the cross she hadn't known she'd lost (and he had conveniently stolen from her goods) and place it atop a burial in honor of her memory. Her remains were to be used for his research. He would use her, every part of her, to make his children. Their children. Because for all her faults, and she had many, she had still been merciful and showed him a kindness he had never truly partaken in. He would return it by building them a family.
If there was a heaven, she would spend it craning her neck to peer upon their legacy, the one she had not been able to continue as her life had been cut short. She would smile. She would be happy.
The gravity of the situation had changed much of him, it was true. Where he had once looked upon the Sunhavenners politely, treated them kindly, his cold blue gaze was hardened and unyielding. "She's not here." he had no taste for outright addressing the tiger that strolled upon their borders, and instead answered her question effortlessly. It was not a lie. She was dead, and if her faith was to be believed, in a much better place. The soul in her body had shriveled up and died with the child in her womb. If only they had cared to heed her cries earlier - this could have been avoided, and they would have continued their uneasy deal. Yes Man wouldn't be pleased.
True to his nature,
he did not care.
He'd relapsed again - fallen into a pit of inactivity he was unable to wake himself up out of, gazing into the eyes of the decaying corpse of Stellamaris. She had been beautiful. Strong. But not strong enough. She had begged for his help, begged like she never had before, blood staining her fur, the stench of it filling his small adobe up. He had told her no. No, Stella, it would not be a good idea, you must wait. See what will happen. It will be okay. No it won't, she'd yell at him in despair. No, it won't, I have a life, I have something going on, and I can't - I can't deal with this. I have a job. She had gotten so pent up that he had been forced to sedate her. Afterwards, he had cleaned up, and pondered. Only for a while. He was a busy man.
She was pregnant. Not with his child in the literal sense, but figuratively; he had been the one to inseminate her under false pretenses, drug her until she was quiet and pliable underneath his attentive paws. He never strayed too far. There was some ... lust, there, but to give it any attention would be an unforgivable error. Besides, he was unlovable. A thing, not a person. Something to be used and discarded as needed. She had noted it not too long after their first meeting, but even then she'd treated him no differently than those around her. It had made him uneasy and uncomfortable.
"I have no soul." he found himself announcing to her after she had assisted him.
She paused, blinking up at him. "Okay."
"Does that alarm you?"
"Why should it?"
"I'm not ... mortal." for once, he struggled to find the words. "I don't feel. I have no morals. I cannot possess another body, and I cannot father children. I'm an object."
"That's horse shit."
It was his turn to feign confusion, blinking at her owlishly. "Excuse me?"
"You're here on this earth, aren't you? Demons, angels - they don't have souls, but they have something. Everyone does. You must have something too." her voice was blunt, but not cruel.
Faith. It took a special someone to believe in the idea of holy entities such as angels and demons, immortal enemies forever stuck in a cycle of violence and destruction. An excuse for a mortal's first and foremost nature: to destroy. The arrogance was blinding, his jaw tensing slightly, a million complaints lining the insides of his brain. "It must feel as if your God has abandoned you."
"What?"
"If the world has come to this."
Humanity continued to be one entire mistake. Trash left to ruminate with mold and decay inside a dark can. The lot of them were slow with stones for wits, always held back by something, whether it be the weight of a conscience or by some inexplicable emotion they felt all of a sudden. It made them inefficient and worthless. Weak. But what did it say about him, created by them? What did it say about their creators? It was a series of slip-ups and excuses, and as time passed and millennia passed them by, they grew more frequent in quantity.
But still, her rosy-eyed view of the world touched enough of him to be compelled to hold her close, to steal the cross she hadn't known she'd lost (and he had conveniently stolen from her goods) and place it atop a burial in honor of her memory. Her remains were to be used for his research. He would use her, every part of her, to make his children. Their children. Because for all her faults, and she had many, she had still been merciful and showed him a kindness he had never truly partaken in. He would return it by building them a family.
If there was a heaven, she would spend it craning her neck to peer upon their legacy, the one she had not been able to continue as her life had been cut short. She would smile. She would be happy.
The gravity of the situation had changed much of him, it was true. Where he had once looked upon the Sunhavenners politely, treated them kindly, his cold blue gaze was hardened and unyielding. "She's not here." he had no taste for outright addressing the tiger that strolled upon their borders, and instead answered her question effortlessly. It was not a lie. She was dead, and if her faith was to be believed, in a much better place. The soul in her body had shriveled up and died with the child in her womb. If only they had cared to heed her cries earlier - this could have been avoided, and they would have continued their uneasy deal. Yes Man wouldn't be pleased.
True to his nature,
he did not care.