Chapter Text
She lost everything.
That was what Vaggie thought as she sat up as best she could, her eye and back stopping the bleeding but still burning, her eye exposed to the elements, and a feeling of emptiness. Her back, completely screaming in pain and a ghostly feeling of what she was once was.
She had lost everything and now the only thing she had left was pain.
At that point she didn't even know if she wasn't getting up because of the difficulty of standing with the new center of gravity she had or because she had already given up. Maybe both.
She lost everything.
And there goes the thought that continues to haunt her head and that doesn't leave her even though...
About what? What did she achieve with that? Prevent the death of a sinful child? Did that change anything with respect to the thousands she has already killed? No, she does not.
But it makes her think, hell, she can't stop thinking. She can't stop remembering the little boy's horrified expression before she covered her face, she can't stop thinking about how terrified that child was.
And that is where everything lies, the child. A child in the hell.
She wants to forget that line of thinking, leave it far away and not have her punished for questionin- oh, yes, she was already punished. Even without questioning it in depth. She doesn't know why she forgets it if it happened so recently, perhaps denial in the face of death in a dark alley of hell.
Maybe should think about that, keep the mind occupied with what want instead of diverting the thoughts, keep the mind occupied until the end, keep the train of thought on how a child ends up in hell even though the age of That little one can barely run and understand the world, just as he can barely recognize a threat to his life when he sees it. So small, so smart.
It's probably an evil mastermind, a part of his head reasons, her plan was for sure that the same thing would happen to her and that the angels would fight among themselves. Another part of her brain only thinks about everything she lost for nothing.
And that's where her next thought goes. She knows that she didn't lose everything for nothing, even though that's what she's been trying to think of to make it work as her personal penance, no, she knows that she didn't lose it for nothing, that of course. In fact, she would do it again.
All because a child ended up in hell and the thought of her only destroys her with even more fervor. And yet, she lost everything for nothing. Both thoughts are not necessarily mutually exclusive, because despite everything, this entire place was still full of irredeemable demons, just because she saved one does not mean that they are all the same, no, the majority were surely adults who committed atrocities.
Because that's how hell is, she only opens up evil souls down there (she tries not to think again, she wants to get away from thinking about the child, he's probably the exception, maybe a small mistake, okay, it's okay)
Maybe it's all right like this, she betrayed the only task they asked her to do, maybe that was her true penance and she should accept it, maybe it's for the best that she just end up there, dead.
As she blinks to try to sink into eternal rest she notices a figure above her, approaching dangerously close. That makes her brain react with the same speed as it would train her if she were in perfect condition.
— Oh hey, you're awake — The figure in the alley stands out, its dark shadow that doesn't let her see beyond a pair of red eyes — Not that there's anything wrong with you being awake — she approaches the light, the intimidating figure she previously saw fading into a humanoid soul.
She crouches down in front of her, takes a bandage from her jacket and begins to wrap it around her face and her eye.
Her entire body tells her to put her training to use, to attack, the feeling of her spear in her hand almost materializing, but, she is so tired, so hurt and so, so, confused.
Because the most recent thoughts came back to her, in an endless and beginningless loop, her thoughts about demons and sinners returning again and again only to be destroyed each time by the careful way this particular soul bandaged her eye.
The way he bandaged her face, the way he seemed so focused on that single act that she didn't seem to notice her surroundings as if she thought it was okay to trust her.
It was probably more painful than her entire wounds, to think that a demon was kinder to her than her own equals.
Maybe not everyone in hell was bad.
—And that's all, are you better? — That soul finished bandaging her eye, now a nervous expression covered her face as she seemed to wait for a response.
— I-I think I am