Work Text:
I thought I had done well my first trial-I had killed all three of them.
But yet, my gods had not collected me.
With my head held high- like I had held it while I lead each and every prayer before- I strode into the temple my gods had bestowed upon me.
After hanging my censer in the appropriate slot above the altar, I knelt and clasped my hands in prayer.
The sound of my own voice was strangely soothing in the way it echoed around the room, filling the air with praise toward the gods in the hopes they would be pleased with my efforts.
In my dedication, I almost missed the soft scuffling of shoes to my right- but I knew better than to stop mid-prayer.
That would displease the gods.
However, curiosity was a gift to humanity, and I couldn't resist looking to my right when the scuffle settled beside me.
This boy looked dead on his feet. It was one I hadn't seen the entire trial- I had no idea he was here.
This is why I was not collected- I was not finished with my work.
But my Prayer was not completed.
This boy was young, offering me one of the sweetest smiles I had ever seen as he fiddled with the chain around his neck.
A voice whispered in my ears, telling me about the 'cross' from a distant religion.
One that my God tells me became popular long after my time.
I smiled slightly- even if he was blasphemous, it was good to see another with faith when my fellow killers held none.
He didn't recoil when I had to pause my prayer to purge my stomach of sickness. Instead, he began to speak in his own tongue-foreign to my ears, but I didn't need to understand the words to feel the intent behind it.
This boy prayed with me- for me- as I succumbed to my illness temporarily.
I did not mind. My god said my strength would come from this vile plague. I would suffer the pain that came with their gift.
When I caught my breath, the boy paused. His smile warmed my heart as I reclaimed my role in leading our joined prayers.
I could see in his eyes he was just as happy as I to have someone to share this immeasurable bliss- the sheer ecstasy of devoting oneself to the higher powers that ruled over us, that cherished us and gave us life itself.
It seemed to end far too early. Even as the black smoke of the incense poured around us, thickening the fog, he didn't flinch away.
I found myself amazed by his solidity- I know he could smell the sickness on my skin, especially as he spoke to me for the first time.
He repeated the syllables several times, gesturing to himself- 'Quen-Tin'
"Quentin."
His name rolled off my tongue as effortlessly as the smile rolled off his lips.
He held his hand out, his head tilting inquisitively.
"Adiris."
His voice sounded pleased as he repeated my own name. With a boyish giggle, he gently took my hand in his own-
I could feel the softness of his lips just above the knuckle of my pointer finger.
So this one had manners?
Judging from the smile, he had heard the reflexive giggle that had escaped me.
I also knew he had heard the choke of illness rising within me.
There had been no time to react.
With no physical way to turn my head in time, I chose to focus on the soft hand sliding into my own as the acid ate away that smile that had held me captivated for those few moments.
I caught him as he fell to the floor.
His frame seemed so much smaller cradled against my chest, but I knew there was only one proper place to lay another of faith to rest.
The catacombs held a sarcophagus that I had always admired.
He looked angelic resting lifelessly inside, even with his features as disfigured as my own.
My gods praised me, addressing the only true concern I had at this time.
He is as eternal as I am- I would kill him many times in the future and he would return each time- reborn anew from the ashes of liquified bone.
This devotion was all my gods asked of me.
I knew I was being judged.
The Entity allowed the others to watch after trials if they so chose, and I didn't need David's disturbed stare to know that my trial mates had seen everything- and told the rest of the campfire before I returned.
I lingered longer than I should have in the treeline, closing my eyes and asking for the strength to bear what they would undoubtedly say.
Dwight's horrified face left nothing to guess.
"So... you left the hatch..."
A heavy sigh. "Yeah."
"...To go see the killer."
"Yes, Dwight."
" ...And pray with her."
"Yes, Dwight- how is that so hard to understand?"
"Because she kills people!?"
I groaned as David quirked an eyebrow, and if I was a more violent man I'd punch that grin right off his face.
"So when's tha' first date?"
I sighed. "Do you know nothing about religion, David? Kissing the hand of a new Priest-"
Feng Min immediately scoffed. " She is the literal embodiment of sickness- she killed you by puking on you! Are you stupid?!"
I sighed again as I stood.
I didn't have the patience for this today, and I was in a good mood- I wanted to enjoy the feeling that came from my brief encounter with another's religion.
With someone that respected my belief, even if I couldn't tell her a single thing about it due to the lack of a shared language.
Claudette tried to soothe the teasing as I walked into the treeline, giving Kate a soft smile as she asked me to stay with those pleading eyes of hers. Usually, they were all that was needed to keep me at the fire- today, I wouldn't be swayed.
This is why I never mentioned my beliefs to anyone. People just didn't understand.
Sitting in my usual spot, I struggled to keep my eyes from closing. As usual, I was tired beyond measure- but today, I had ample reason to draw my knees to my chest and press my lips to my medallion.
I knew, somewhere in the newly expanded Red Forest, Adiris was praying for me as I prayed for her.
I was truly disgusted when I had finally pieced together why Quentin was here.
He was the plaything of the Dream Demon- the one who did not know how to keep his hands to himself, making his perverted nature well known by action and the assumption of speech.
I had seen the Huntress' ire towards him.
I quickly discovered the other woman's protective streak toward small children.
The implication of her powerful hatred made my stomach churn.
I longed for those drowsy blue eyes to grace my trials- I knew I could give no reprieve outside of death, but the sickness that followed him had a form.
It was a physical form with a distasteful tone, with claws longer than my own on his hand.
I knew he needed strength, and the young congregate found this strength through our shared god-
Yes, I knew of 'him' now. I had asked my lords when I completed my first trial with him.
He worshipped the same gods as I do, but simply knew them by a singular name- 'God'.
It was not blasphemy to pray with Quentin, so long as I completed my role in these 'trials'.
I held my head high as I stepped into a familiar land- this trial would be within my sacred Temple.
I would perform well.
If I performed well, my gods would allow me to lead Quentin in another prayer.
Part of me longed for it. Part of me craved the sensation of his lips on my hand, of the warmth of his body beside my own as we knelt on the stone together.
I missed having my followers kneel and cast their heads groundward beside me- I missed hearing their voices in time with my own, praising the gods I now knew to be just as superb and all-powerful as I believed them to be.
To my eternal delight, I saw him this trial. He took the illness that naturally spread through me in stride, all in the name of altruism. Not that it mattered- his fellow survivors fell soon enough.
With each passing moment, I knew he would suffer more. He hadn't cleansed himself in the fountains.
I couldn't help but mourn his sudden need to hide from me after the dark-skinned girl was offered to the heavens.
On a whim, I returned to my temple.
My gods would guide me- I would show him that we would pray before I completed my task.
My heart skipped a beat when I saw him kneeling in the center chamber, his hands politely folded on his knees. I ignored the small puddle of bile a few feet away- I knew how hard it was to control when the burn took over.
That soft smile drew me toward him as I readjusted my shoulders, holding my head high.
I began to pray, hanging my censer where the smoke would pour over us and cleanse the lingering scent of illness.
The look of bliss on his face was almost as sweet as the way he closed his eyes- I knew he was taking my prayers to heart.
I listened as he shared his own whenever my illness forced me to pause, occasionally singing in a gentle tenor that had my stomach fluttering with something that was not born of divine handicaps. I took over once more when his chest caught in a horrible cough that sounded too familliar in my ears.
It wasn't long before the sickness returned to his stomach too.
It was a difficult decision to end the prayer- I wanted to worship so much more beside him, reveling in the feeling of someone who understood- but I knew the progression of this curse I had given to him.
He only smiled when I rose, holding out my hand in offering with a smile of my own.
After each trial- after our prayers- he followed me to the catacombs.
He pressed his lips to my knuckles, sometimes kneeling to rest his forehead against the back of my hands. Each time, I laid him to rest under the smog of my incense and the hum of a learned prayer.