[ Well, apart from Quetzalcoatl. Jod is. Well, he doesn't know Jod that well, but he's kinda funky.
And Zhongli is retired, adn thus is an outlier and cannot be counted. ]
Then, they poured themselves into you and fled from it. How cowardly of them, not to properly face the things they willed themselves to ignore and abandon and instead make you into their lovely martyr. You are ripe, Caren.
[ The way he says it. As if she is a perfect fruit upon a branch, waiting to be plucked and taken between the teeth. As if he knows, that upon biting into her soft flesh, he will find something worm-infested and rotting below that delicate surface. She bows her head in prayer to her god, seeking — what? The word of someone who she sought to leave behind in an old, dead world? The word of someone who she wishes to have back, for some reason? What is it that she desires. Caren has always come to him and held him in his most wretched, gruesome moments; ones where he is dying agonizing deaths, the memories of the dead reenacted upon his own mind until his ego dies alongside them and allows them to shed their immortal agony and flee to a better life.
Is that not what he will do, for Meridian? ( For Zenith? if they so desire it of him. ) ]
Do not lie. The thought of me killing you in innumerable ways, only to suffer every last gasp and cry you would make is one that you find exciting. Besides, I am through ruining innocent women [ he never should have, but he did; he never harmed them in the ways other men did, but he allowed them to be used until they died, and then he, too —— ] and you are far from innocent. Little voyeur, peering in upon private moments.
[ Yikes. ]
How does it feel, hm? The message of the Meridian is hope, but I find the light bloodthirsty for salvation.
oh im just gonna cw sadomasochism & mutual Meanness for this thread asap
[ Well, apart from Quetzalcoatl. Jod is. Well, he doesn't know Jod that well, but he's kinda funky.
And Zhongli is retired, adn thus is an outlier and cannot be counted. ]
Then, they poured themselves into you and fled from it. How cowardly of them, not to properly face the things they willed themselves to ignore and abandon and instead make you into their lovely martyr. You are ripe, Caren.
[ The way he says it. As if she is a perfect fruit upon a branch, waiting to be plucked and taken between the teeth. As if he knows, that upon biting into her soft flesh, he will find something worm-infested and rotting below that delicate surface. She bows her head in prayer to her god, seeking — what? The word of someone who she sought to leave behind in an old, dead world? The word of someone who she wishes to have back, for some reason? What is it that she desires. Caren has always come to him and held him in his most wretched, gruesome moments; ones where he is dying agonizing deaths, the memories of the dead reenacted upon his own mind until his ego dies alongside them and allows them to shed their immortal agony and flee to a better life.
Is that not what he will do, for Meridian? ( For Zenith? if they so desire it of him. ) ]
Do not lie. The thought of me killing you in innumerable ways, only to suffer every last gasp and cry you would make is one that you find exciting. Besides, I am through ruining innocent women [ he never should have, but he did; he never harmed them in the ways other men did, but he allowed them to be used until they died, and then he, too —— ] and you are far from innocent. Little voyeur, peering in upon private moments.
[ Yikes. ]
How does it feel, hm? The message of the Meridian is hope, but I find the light bloodthirsty for salvation.