Bonesplinter Ravine [M] Viva La Vida

They weren’t dead—yet. A blessing, Machiavelli mused, as they wove through the crowd's thrumming tension, its anticipation swirling like incense. Joanna’s trembling grip lost the bowl to the Prophet’s waiting paws, and he moved to Herod's side, heart thundering beneath a veneer of dutiful submission. Every instinct sharpened; there could be no misstep here.

He inclined his head, voice sliding low, deferential. I ask your forgiveness, Abbot, he replied, his shattered-glass eyes cast down, unyielding in their reverence as he dipped a dove-white paw into the mixture. The movement was fluid, conscious, each motion echoing the humility he dared not abandon. Your mercy is as boundless as ever, a generosity which humbles us all.

Pausing, he let the words weigh upon the air. He placed the cup down with a lingering touch, his soaked paw leaving crimson splotches on the cold stone, then lifted his head, gaze alight with resentment as he took a single, purposeful step toward Eset. If I may impose upon your goodwill once more, he ventured, letting his voice harden with the fury that had been left to build for months.

I would not say as much before our flock, but was not mercy that tempered my heart, Abbot. Machiavelli admitted quietly, eyes fixed upon the Hebsut. This woman— his gaze bore into her, a smoldering ember of loathing kindling within his eyes—she is a creature of Pharaoh, the very hand that once shackled me in servitude, the one who condemned me to months of confinement. The words dripped with bitterness, each syllable seething with contempt. And of impure blood, no less. Hardly worthy of our reverence and certainly undeserving of the glory of sacrifice.

He let his lips curl, disdain steeped in every word. Yet I understand the necessity of setting an example, Abbot, so, if it would please you, I beseech you—grant her to me. Let us take her home as our own—a pet, a creature to be tamed. Let her suffer as I have suffered. His voice dripped with dark intention.

Without waiting, he surged forward, heart pounding, teeth bared as he seized her by the scruff, hoisting her upright, forcing her paws to find purchase against the cold ground.

I beg your permission, my Abbot, he murmured, his gaze lifting to meet Herod’s. Allow me to begin… now.