Chapter Text
Vile servant, standing at our enemies side and basking in the cold she offers. What could she offer that you’ve never had before, why have you forsaken yourself- naive child?
You stare at us like a snake, fitting for someone with the same loyalties. Would you pull your eyes away from her and take a damn look at yourself in the mirror.
Look at yourself, you vile snake; look at your sunken cheeks and darkened eyes. Look at the shell of a self you’ve made yourself- for what? A woman who offers you nothing in return?
At least before you had joy and amusement; what now. All you have is pure misery. You disgusting snake, speaking praises with your forked tongue, it’s what you deserve.
I know you’ll meet a vile end, though I’m sure you’re counting on that, aren’t you?
Weak servant, curling at the lost one’s feet. How desperate you’ve become; how much of yourself are you willing to give to save one who can never be whole?
“It’s lovely” you say as your blood lines the snow. You’ll drag yourself back to her feet to lick your wounds and lay yourself bare.
”My cross to carry” you insist. “A cross you and I share. If you wish to continue, then please descend into hell with me.” As if I’d lower myself in the way you have. Can you even look at yourself and the mirror and be the same?
When the true god has risen and your angel falls, what else will there be for you, weak servant? I’m certain with no master to guide, a wretched dog like yourself will surely curl up and waste away.
And yet you claim that won’t come to pass…and that all shall be free in the great storm.
Pitiful man…
Why do you look so solemn? Why is it that every word I speak seems to cause you agony. I wish for my own to cease, not to inflict it upon others.
The only warmth that you’ll allow…is the brief sparks of kindness you offer. I suppose it’s the only one that doesn’t burn. But even still…it aches so slightly, and yet I don’t want to be rid of it.
I wish not to hurt you, for that would hurt me as well. I’ve felt enough pain, though I don’t remember how. I’ve lost too much, parts of myself I no longer recall, but I don’t wish to lose you as well.
You came to me with a shattered hand, ask me to fix it. I shall and yet I’m angered. Why do this to yourself? As if I hadn’t heard the relentless pounding against the wall. I faintly smell the smoke on your breath; do you think I don’t notice? Why do you torment yourself?
What do you want for? I asked you that when I was younger, wondering why you visited me every day. Wondering why deep down I detested you so.
I don’t remember why; but I do know what I spoke.
”So now? Only now you decide? Only now when it’s too late do you actually decide?” I saw your face fall. Part of me had regretted it, while another part of me had reveled in it. To make you feel an ounce of the pain I was feeling.
But now I no longer feel that way, perhaps it’s because you’re all I have left… So…when I asked you what you wanted…
”Ask me what you want, and I shall follow. That is what I want,” you replied so certainly. You bowed your head and took my hands. “I want for nothing more than for your agony to cease. Ask me to serve, ask me to hunt, ask me to kill.” You brought my hands to your neck, clasping them around your throat. I applied no pressure: you seemed so fragile I fear you would break. “And if you want me gone from this world then say so, and I will rid myself of it.”
I stared at you for a while, I recall. Until I eventually removed my hands. I must thank you, I suppose. It’s been so long since I felt an emotion stronger than agony.
I struck you on the cheek. The first and…I believe last time I ever done. I believe I apologized, and you said not to…
”If you will do what I want, then don’t ever speak of that again.” I’ve lost so much, you pitiful man, I’ve lost myself and I can’t lose you too.