Work Text:
Subspace has a wonderful growth in his quarters. It melts and squelches when he caresses it, the chunky liquid of rot feeling wonderful against his undeserving skin. He slips off one black, blood stained surgical glove, smiling madly, consumed by religious fervor as he presses his hand against the moldy eye socket, gently applying pressure and watching as the eye falls from the socket, landing with a wet squelch.
To anyone else, to heretics, the sound may have been disturbing. The sight of the eyeball, its cloudy beauty, the look of an all loving god, rolling slightly on the ceramic may have even been enough to make those undeserving of repentance scream and back out of the room in fear. They wouldn’t even try and put their beloved back together. They were disgusting, filthy less-humans who deserved to be treated like dogs.
Not him though, he thought to himself giddily as his hand trembled, oh-so gently picking up the eyeball of his divine being, delicately placing it back in the fluid-filled socket. He stepped back to rake his eyes over his beloved once again.
He lay in the bathtub, motionless, his one eye rolled into the back of his rotting, melting head. His clothes, once pristeen, were now streaked with yellow and brown and that lovely teal blue. His horns, once as majestic as a grand deer’s, were now cracked and mangled, a crystal hanging from one of the branching spirals of bone like a heretic rightfully put to death for speaking blasphemy against his god.
His smile grew wider. He loved his god.
And his god loved him too, he was sure of it.