The path to self righteousness.
A day is just a day, even for a killer of Ar. Most of it spent on the daily duties necessary to afford her comfort. Oman was pensive, tense even. She busied herself with filling jars and brewing more tincture for the itch.
The boy apprentice now known as Paes came with more water for boiling. He was a good boy. It seemed too that he had an understanding of her mood swings. Impressive read for someone not versed in her ways. He kept quiet this day, offering her a smile or two for his own comfort. Certainly not hers.
The small Kiosk was packed, its tent folded down for the night. She sent Paes on his way with a bucket from the grocer for his mother and a coin for his days labor. His mother might be worried, it was late. Picking up the push-handles Oman headed for the colonial home she'd recently acquired.
The man Antollicus had been working steadily on the homes repairs. His companion Antiope had proven to be a good learner. They were enjoying the purse of a Peddler just fine, for she was not without mercy. Moments of justness were good for her. They reminded her she was not an empty vessel (or vassal as the case may be). She was doing some good in the world after all.
The small Kiosk was packed, its tent folded down for the night. She sent Paes on his way with a bucket from the grocer for his mother and a coin for his days labor. His mother might be worried, it was late. Picking up the push-handles Oman headed for the colonial home she'd recently acquired.
The man Antollicus had been working steadily on the homes repairs. His companion Antiope had proven to be a good learner. They were enjoying the purse of a Peddler just fine, for she was not without mercy. Moments of justness were good for her. They reminded her she was not an empty vessel (or vassal as the case may be). She was doing some good in the world after all.
Oman entered the homes gates, and turned to re-lock them. Antollicus came and put away the kiosk for the night. " I greet you, Madam, " he had offered before taking her burden. She turned to him, " I am not feeling well Antollicus. I wish to be left alone for the evening." Nodding solemnly she hobbled up the stairs to the residence, and locked herself in its newly painted white walled glory. The White Castle of a Killer. White was clean and peaceful. Murder after all was a chaotic act of nature. Night would be upon her soon enough. In the respite of this place she garbed herself. Tensions often causing her to drift off and see things not truly there. Sometimes the herbs she used for calming nerves helped her, tonight however she might need her invisible comrades. Hallucinations. She decided to forego the tea and bring them along.
The one known as Air was the first to come. He of the shadows kept lookout at the window and listened intently to the streets. She smiled to his reflection in her vanity mirror. Perching on the trunk at the foot of her bed came The Earth into view. His feet clung like talons around the domed lid, he watches only her. Next to her, as always, her Mentor, Fire. His hands were steadily fitting her weapons belts. He was as ever, beloved. They were all here as guides. Simply a torment that had afflicted her with time, and the acts she had committed therin. They would show her the way. Keep her safe in times of need. Give her guidance when none could be afforded by her alone. "Stay with me tonight, " she had said aloud to her delusions.
The night had seemed ordinary enough. The rooftop she had laid upon, was warm from the days sun, penetrating her. She observed the Free People who mingled with a carefree banter. The gathering appeared happy, no pretenses for disquiet. Distant the stalker fitted bolt to bow. Prone against the top of an office building. Fire the Guardian beside her, leant her his strength of will.
Leather creaked as the butt of the bow was nestled to her shoulder. Her mood was reposeful, her breathing even-timed. Concentration heavily on her as she lowered the sight. The wind blusters, she must wait. It is the essence of her to be patient, she of the Sea. The gathered below will soon name her a target. The shot will be taken and coin will be had. She felt the figment of Air's cheek beside her own. His eyes pierced the target. A gloved shadowy hand aimed the bow for her.
Her heart stopped in utter disbelief. She looked to the visage she called Fire confused beyond measure. Limbs wrought with a pain so deep she could almost not bear to feel it. A moments pause catches her off guard. She holds her breath and tastes blood on her lips. So succumbed to the task and yet so faltered by the true deed now to be done, she had bitten herself. This is not happening to her. She has been used as a pawn in her own spiral. The crossbow trembles. The cool night air has drowned her, gulping for breath. Decide now Oman, Fire had demanded. She had been sent to kill the Poet, Szol.
One decision to change her life. Take the shot and all would be lost.
'Resolution, Absolution, Joy. All found in one pull of a sharp trigger. Steady my skill, Resolution. Make this shot true, I pray to you for Absolution. Aeolos be sedate and Joyful, grant me this. '
The one known as Air was the first to come. He of the shadows kept lookout at the window and listened intently to the streets. She smiled to his reflection in her vanity mirror. Perching on the trunk at the foot of her bed came The Earth into view. His feet clung like talons around the domed lid, he watches only her. Next to her, as always, her Mentor, Fire. His hands were steadily fitting her weapons belts. He was as ever, beloved. They were all here as guides. Simply a torment that had afflicted her with time, and the acts she had committed therin. They would show her the way. Keep her safe in times of need. Give her guidance when none could be afforded by her alone. "Stay with me tonight, " she had said aloud to her delusions.
The night had seemed ordinary enough. The rooftop she had laid upon, was warm from the days sun, penetrating her. She observed the Free People who mingled with a carefree banter. The gathering appeared happy, no pretenses for disquiet. Distant the stalker fitted bolt to bow. Prone against the top of an office building. Fire the Guardian beside her, leant her his strength of will.
Leather creaked as the butt of the bow was nestled to her shoulder. Her mood was reposeful, her breathing even-timed. Concentration heavily on her as she lowered the sight. The wind blusters, she must wait. It is the essence of her to be patient, she of the Sea. The gathered below will soon name her a target. The shot will be taken and coin will be had. She felt the figment of Air's cheek beside her own. His eyes pierced the target. A gloved shadowy hand aimed the bow for her.
Her heart stopped in utter disbelief. She looked to the visage she called Fire confused beyond measure. Limbs wrought with a pain so deep she could almost not bear to feel it. A moments pause catches her off guard. She holds her breath and tastes blood on her lips. So succumbed to the task and yet so faltered by the true deed now to be done, she had bitten herself. This is not happening to her. She has been used as a pawn in her own spiral. The crossbow trembles. The cool night air has drowned her, gulping for breath. Decide now Oman, Fire had demanded. She had been sent to kill the Poet, Szol.
One decision to change her life. Take the shot and all would be lost.
'Resolution, Absolution, Joy. All found in one pull of a sharp trigger. Steady my skill, Resolution. Make this shot true, I pray to you for Absolution. Aeolos be sedate and Joyful, grant me this. '
The wind relented on cue. She had taken the opportunity, and fired. The Magistrate of the People faltered. Szol, the Poet of Ar bled much. She saw her fate ahead, the consequence of this act of treason. Be true my skills, let him not suffer death.
Earth's ashy hand came down and helped her up, there was relief on his face. She crushed a clove-root wrap on the ground with her boot leaving it where she had laid. Drawing the hood up once more to cover the Mark-born forehead she took a route away from the scene. Quietly leaving behind a piece of herself. Her heart had beaten like a drum. It was done. She had chosen. The truth to never be known.
" I'm not here, this isn't happening."
Earth's ashy hand came down and helped her up, there was relief on his face. She crushed a clove-root wrap on the ground with her boot leaving it where she had laid. Drawing the hood up once more to cover the Mark-born forehead she took a route away from the scene. Quietly leaving behind a piece of herself. Her heart had beaten like a drum. It was done. She had chosen. The truth to never be known.
" I'm not here, this isn't happening."
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