M.I.A.

Benedicto

At the start of the Maelo thread in the The Chronicles of Benedicto

Donated by Moirean and taken from her perspective.

You say, "I want to fight agrasha."
Kali, keeper of the pit says, "Ladies and gentlemen! We have a brave soul here, we do! Well, off with you, Moirean. Last long enough against the spider, and you will receive a hefty prize! Defeat it, and you'll bend under the weight of the gold you'll receive."

Kali grabs you by your arm and drags you towards a nearly invisible trap door. Flinging it open, he pushes you into the dark depths. For what seems like eternity you slide down a muck-covered tunnel, landing at last with a thump in the web-filled cavern of the feared Spider.
The Spider Pit.

A ringing cacophony fills the air, centered on a filigree obsidian stand and the fluted basin captured within its clawed arms. Towering at well over fifteen feet, the gargantuan spider is a creature from a horrid nightmare. A black hat lies here.
There are no obvious exits.

Laying your bone dagger flat upon your palm, you flick it sharply towards a gargantuan spider. The blade speeds through the air and shatters on impact, before suddenly reappearing in your hand.
You have scored a CRITICAL hit!
Health Gain: 350
Damage done: 1688, magical.
The final blow proves too much for a gargantuan spider, who expires, pitifully.
You have slain a gargantuan spider.
Experience Gained: 370 (Bashing) [total: 1070522]
A rush of energy fills you as you feel ready to deliver a devastating blow upon your next target.

Rough hands reach down to grab you, pulling you out of the pit.
Kali, keeper of the pit says, "Oh, wow! How did you ever manage to defeat Agrasha, Moirean? You cheated, didn't you?"
You take a drink of an elixir of health from a runic vial.
Health Gain: 609

Kali, keeper of the pit says, "Ah, well. Let's see now ... Here's your lousy prize."

Kali, keeper of the pit clenches his fists and begins to fume.

Benedicto enters from the south, riding a war turtle.
Kali, keeper of the pit says, "Aha! Another soul has come to see Agrasha, the feared Spider! Are you brave enough to descend to Agrasha's lair and test your strength, though, Benedicto? The reward can be hefty, but so is the loss!"
Kali, keeper of the pit cackles hellishly.

You smirk at Benedicto.

You wave goodbye.

Benedicto peers down at you from atop his turtle. "Where are you going?" He demands suddenly.

Benedicto:
He is a dexterous Yeleni and is clearly a creature born of the Maelstrom. The blue-hued skin of his face is almost translucent and beneath the flesh, veins of water seem to course throughout his body. His broad face is characterized by sharp cheekbones and a square chin, while a pair of eyes the color of fresh pearls stare outwards from beneath a finely sculpted brow. His hair is comprised of thick tentacles, an off-white color, that are bound loosely at the nape of his neck. The skin of his body is covered in midnight-blue scales that change to an electric blue under direct light, though silvery lines denote what are clearly a massive network of scars across his entire body. The bones of his large wings are covered in the same midnight blue scales that decorate the rest of his form, but when fully unfolded and stretched to their full span, the same translucent skin as that between his fingers can be seen.His body is well-muscled and toned where seen, and his movements are lithe and fluid despite his ten foot frame.

(worn over his other garments) : a cloak of obscurity
(wrapped around each wrist) : a pair of gauntlets
(worn on the wedding ring finger) : an entwined feathers and starstone wedding band
(embedded in the flesh of his chest) : a coral-covered pendant
(worn on his feet) : boots of the wisp
(worn on the right index finger) : a phoenix signet ring
(worn wrapped around his right bicep) : a black armband bearing the crest of the Sentaari
(overlaying his knuckles) : spiked knuckles
(tied loosely about his waist) : a lustrous black and gold belt
(worn around his neck) : a Slyphian necklace
(worn loose around his waist) : a slender, low-slung black weaponbelt
(held closed by his tekura belt) : a cascading Slyphian robe with a silver dolphin motif
(around the neck) : a lunar eclipse medallion
(worn on the hands) : an iron ylem-binding gauntlet
(beneath his robes) : a suit of leather armour

Moirean:
She is a powerful Imp and is a slight, slender creature. Small, bat-like wings fan out from her shoulder blades, while a curling tail twists behind her to occasionally twitch in vaguely mischievous movements. A pair of petite horns frames her features, sprouting from her brow to highlight a pair of bright, amber eyes. Auburn hair tumbles around pointed ears in tangled curls, the color a lurid match for the seared brand of a thirteen-pointed star across her forehead. Her right arm is sheathed from the elbow downwards in an elaborate steel gauntlet, its surface covered with a spiderwebbed network of slender black lines. The delicate etchings twist across the metal, constantly pulsing with flares of murky, warped darkness. She walks with the blessing of Niuri.

(unbuttoned, over her armor) : a Carnifex's side-buttoning black wool longcoat
(skimming her torso) : a black, silken bodice
(delicately pinned to her tabard) : a jagged ylemshard pin
(tightly covering her legs) : black leather soldier's pants
(on her neck below her right ear) : a black-inked tattoo of a pair of crossed fists
(perched on the ear) : a clinging spider earring
(proudly displayed) : a tabard of the Shadow Keep
(melded to the stump of her left arm) : a steel arm webbed in living soulstone
(worn on the feet) : a pair of boots

You have emoted: Moirean slips a handful of gold into her pack with a loud, teasing jingle.

You say, "Off to spend my gold, I suppose!"

Proudly, you say, "I defeated the mighty Agrasha."

Benedicto slides down from the shell of a war turtle to land lithely on his feet. He moves immediately to stand before you, blocking the exit.

You have emoted: Moirean gives you a skeptical, almost disbelieving stare. "I'm me," she snorts. "You really think that's gonna stop me, if I want to leave?"

You cease to wield a chipped bone dagger in your left hand, securing it conveniently on your weaponbelt.

"No." Benedicto says almost wryly, something like a grin quirking the corner of his lips. "But I thought you'd at least understand the gesture."

You have emoted: Moirean shoves her little phalanges dagger into the weaponbelt at her waist and pertly lifts her chin as she plants her hands on her hips. "You've got my attention, then," she replies, giving her tangled curls a shake. "Make it good, lover boy."

Benedicto follows the movement of your daggers as you sheathe them at your waist. "Our son. You remember him?" His voice is quiet as he asks this, his pearl-white eyes flicking from the sheathed weapons back to you eyes.

You have emoted: Moirean's eyes narrow as she meets your gaze. "Of course I do," she retorts in clipped tones. There is a note of disbelief in her voice, as if she is surprised by your very statement.

You have emoted: Moirean adds acidly, "I am the one who spent all those hours pushing him out. And the months carrying him. And the years standing by his door."

"The years hiding him like a token you mean?!" Benedicto snaps in reply, his eyes narrowing dangerously. A struggle takes place that is visible only on his features, as if he fights to regain control of his temper. He takes a deep breath which he holds for a few moments before exhaling in a sigh. "He's disappeared." The words come out on the air from his lungs, rushed and clumped together.

You have emoted: Moirean raises an eyebrow at your first statement and her disbelief turns to visible shock. "I kept him safe. For YOU," she snaps back. Her lips draw into a thin line and she seems to not even hear your follow-up statement. Her gaze is fixed on you intently - her jaw tightens at first and her nostrils flare, before she mirrors your sigh, eyes softening with a flash of a wounded expression, and then her stare drops. Finally, she adds, quietly, "He grew up. What did you expect?"

"No." Benedicto says simply, his eyes dropping as well. "He has not just 'grown up'. He was living in Duiran, he had become a warrior, like ourselves. He went out with a squad. He never returned." His shoulders bunch and tighten beneath his robe. "None of them did." His voice is even and firm.

You have emoted: Moirean's head lifts and she runs a hand through her hair, impatiently tugging as her fingers catch in a snarl. "Where?" she demands. "Where did he go?"

Benedicto raises his eyes back to you, his pearl-white irises blazing. "I don't KNOW!" He shouts, lashing out with his fist to smash a nearby wall. He breathes heavily, in and out, his frustration growing. "It was not a sanctioned mission. They went without telling anyone!"

You have emoted: Moirean's eyes close and she winces faintly as you punch the wall. "You fear for his fate, then," she states. Her words aren't even a question.

Benedicto lowers his fist, chips of stone embedded in his flesh. His whole body slumps, his frustration spent. "Of course." He murmurs. "He's my son."

You have emoted: There is a thread of steel in Moirean's voice as she points out, "And, as you claim, a warrior."

A pulse starting at his jaw, Benedicto replies, "How could he be otherwise?"

You have emoted: The hint of strength in Moirean's tone sharpens and she says, "So a warrior went off to fight and has not returned. Do you expect me to cry?" Her arms shift from her hips, raising to cross over her chest and she - almost mockingly - adds, "Collapse into your arms and weep about the cruelties of the world? Stare up from your embrace as we mourn?"

Benedicto grits his teeth, the pulse at his jaw increasing in violence. "I came because I thought, somewhere, you might still care for your son!" His spits venomously. "That you might want to know. You might worry!" He takes a step closer to you. "How wrong I was."

Heat begins to build in the room, emanating from Benedicto as he takes another step closer to you. "How could I be so foolish!"

Benedicto gives a sudden, short yell, and you suddenly feel a wave of heat emanating from him.

You have emoted: Moirean coldly, pointedly says, "What did you want me to say, Benedicto? Did you want me to say that we should pause our lives for him? Put things on hold to wait for him while he is gone?" Her heatlit eyes glower at you, reflecting back sparks of light from your own anger, but the rest of her expression is neutral, her eyebrows raised in an almost sad set. "You left, once, and we waited for you, remember."

Quietly, you say, "You only view those actions as wrong and with hatred, so why would I suggest we treat our son the same?"

"You could almost show some CONCERN!" Benedicto declares taking another step forward, the heat growing to a level of mild discomfort as his proximity to you increases. "He deserves BETTER. He could have been BETTER. Not made our MISTAKES."

The end of each sentence is punctuated with something akin to a stab of light that crackles in the air around Benedicto . "I should have done BETTER!"

The chill of the grave fills your inner core and limbs, waiting to spread through your decays.

You have emoted: Moirean lifts her hand and a faint, azure aura begins to form around her fingers, softly hazing her hand in a faint mist. She raises her arm, swiftly, before you can stop her, and lightly cups your cheek, the caress carrying a bone-chilling, soul-chilling touch of the very grave - the cold slices through the heat for a moment, stabbing at your core, and vanishes, leaving only the sensation of her fingers against your skin. "You raised a warrior," she whispers, simply. "Treat him like one. Carry on without him."

Softly, you say, "...or he may resent your mourning as you resent mine."

Benedicto stops mid-step towards you, the heat suddenly evaporating with your touch.

Benedicto lets out a long, slow breath, and you see the fire in his eyes cool a little.

"So...just forget him?" Benedicto murmurs, almost seeming to push his cheek against your fingers. "Just. Give him up for dead?"

You have emoted: Moirean's hand lingers against your skin and she shakes her head. "Of course not," she replies, tone subdued. "Investigate. Search. Take action." She inhales sharply and her thumb skims your cheekbone as she peers deep into your eyes. "But wail and weep? Live in regret, blaming yourself for him leaving? Waiting, hoping for his return..." She trails off and lets out a long exhale. Her earlier strength is gone as she falls silent, leaving only her frank, wistful words and her small hand, slender-boned and shaking, lightly, daringly still touching you.

Benedicto remains still for a few moments more before stepping away from you. "What you say has some merit." He concedes, running his webbed fingers over the spot where your touch resided. "I will continue to search. To be hopeful for his return." He takes another step back, creating additional distance from you.

You have emoted: Moirean drops her hand, pulling it close to her chest. "I will help." she says, attempting a firmer tone, but then she pauses. She swallows and, after a moment, admits, "I...I don't even know what the bo- our son, I don't even know what he is like. How he looks. What-" She falters, here.

You have emoted: "...what his name is," Moirean concludes, gaze dropping.

"We didn't name him." Benedicto states bluntly, his hand falling back to his side. "He may have been given one from Kiyotan and Sibatti." He shrugs stiffly. "I'm unsure."

You have emoted: "Maelo," Moirean quietly blurts out, almost without thinking. "I wanted to name him Maelo."

His brow furrowing quizzically, Benedicto asks, "Why? What does it mean?"

You have emoted: Moirean shrugs and lets out a short, self-deprecating laugh. "For Lord Slyphe. The Maelstrom..." Her gaze is still downcast. "Maybe it's stupid. It was just a thought. It's not like it matters, anymore."

You have emoted: Moirean's head lifts and her expression twists, a flash of pain crossing her features. Somewhat nastily, she tacks on, "As you've made crystal clear, he's not part of my life anymore."

"Maybe it will." Benedicto says quietly in answer to your first statement. "As far as your involvement with him is concerned, that is your decision. Though, with him being a Duiranite, I cannot see your fellow Carnifex being happy about you having a son who is also an enemy and his father being me."

"And I will personally crush any of them who try to harm him." Benedicto adds emphasis to his words by raising his hand and crushing it into a fist before your face. "Including you."

Lifting her chin, you say, "The Carnifex I -COMMAND- are smart enough to keep those types of views where I can't hear them. We aren't Duiran or Enorian, poking noses into private business - I trust my guild is loyal where and when it matters, and they return the same trust to me." She raises an eyebrow. "Perhaps it is you who should be worried. Maybe this very conversation is raising flags."

Benedicto sniffs with disdain. "I know where my loyalties lie. This isn't an illicit meeting." He lowers his fist and folds his hands into the voluminous sleeves of his robes. "I will brook no attempts to 'convert' him either."

You have emoted: Moirean snorts and replies, "I don't want anyone in my Keep who doesn't want to be there. They won't survive a day, and that's a waste of my time." Her tone is sharp and voice high - a slight quaver undercuts her bold words, hinting at, perhaps, a spike of bravado clouding her true sentiments.

"If you say so." Benedicto says, clearly disbelieving your words. "Our talk is done. You know the situation now. I would-" Here he appears to struggle on the word "appreciate" biting it short distastefully, "if you would keep your ears open for any word of our son. Beyond that, nothing remains changed between us. We have no further ties."

You have emoted: Moirean is silent for a long span, her features tightening into a tense expression as you speak. Her shoulders square and she, finally, replies with a single, sharp, "Fine."

"I'm glad you understand." Benedicto replies before turning on his heel and walking away from you. As he passes his large war turtle, he clicks towards it and it trudges into line behind him.

A war turtle begins to follow Benedicto obediently.

Benedicto leaves to the south.
He is followed by a war turtle.

You have emoted: Moirean mutters, "Crystal clear."



-------------------------------------
A few months pass....
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Perched above the world. (Edge of Reality.)
Riverrun through Sapience and onwards, past swerve of stone and bend of bracken, to culminate here at the world's edge, a dizzying precipice rising to scrape at the sky. Unfolding below in a dazzling series of swoops, sparkles and shimmers, the entire continent in visible in receded splendor; the vast distance paints the terrain in miniature detail, dwarfed by this remote perch. Beyond the continent, colors fade away into the hazy mist of the remote oceans, with the hues dwindling to a murky, glinting darkness in the far horizons, hinting at hidden realms and other, strange worlds lying beyond the familiar territory. Bonfires burn eternally here, fed by some unknown source to twinkle away in everglowing smoulders on the hills climbing up to this seat, while, overhead, only the sun and stars themselves soar higher than the summit you stand upon. In a jarring contrast to this breathtaking scene, radiating outwards from the peak's heart in a winding, snaking series of trails, a dense, vast forest of pikes creates a gory and shockingly handmade tableau. Serving as the brink's sole adornment, stake after stake has been thrust into the earth, each topped with a preserved, decapitated head, eyes wide and faces frozen in the rictus of death - familiar features strike you, with fighters from all cities, guilds and walks visible among the ranks of the slaughtered. Driven deep into the earth, each pike reaches to barely knee level, and it's easy to imagine an Imp striding among them, her own head raised relatively high to look down upon her vanquished foes.

You have lusted the following people:
-------------------------------------------
Maelstrom's Avatar, Benedicto Silverain

You throw the card at the ground and it quickly grows into a portal through which Benedicto is drawn.

You ponder Benedicto's profile, deep in consideration.

Benedicto looks around, startled. "Oh for fucks..." He begins before sighing bitterly. He glares at you. "What do you want, Moirean?" His question is laden with frustration and irritation.

You have emoted: A cloaked figure raises her eyebrows and archly says, "You lie."

Blinking, Benedicto looks taken aback. "Lie?"

You have emoted: Moirean executes a small spin and spreads her arms out wide. "Do you like what I've done with the place?" she asks, head titling. Beside her, another head tilts at the exact same angle - the contorted, rotting face atop the pike looks uneasily similar to Dato's. And behind that, one that resembles Isto. And a Lin, there, mouth lolling open.

You have emoted: Moirean's doppleganger mirrors the head tilt, its lips spread in a wide, cheeky smile. It bounces from foot to foot as it rolls its eyes up at you and blows a silent raspberry.

Benedicto flashes the doppleganger a dangerous look before diverting his attention to the gruesome array of displayed heads. "I would call it a 'fixer-upper' I believe. Decaying skulls isn't really what I would go in for in terms of decor." He says blithely.

Glancing amongst the rotting heads, Benedicto says, "I don't see my own head here."

You have emoted: Moirean lets out an indignant snort. "Men!" she says in exasperation. The doppleganger gives her a sympathetic nod and throws its hands up in exaggerated irritation. The Imp ignores your question for a moment, merely beaming proudly over her collection, before she turns back to you. "I only display the pretty ones," she retorts.

You have emoted: Moirean stares at you, tail twitching, as if daring you to counter her claim.

Reaching down to gather his robes closer to his legs, Benedicto walks amongst the myriad of beheaded victims with a curious glance here and there as he recognizes someone. He turns to you with an impassive expression. "What do you do with the ugly ones?" He asks neutrally, unwilling to take the bait.

You have emoted: There's a gnash of teeth amidst Moirean's wide mouth as she succinctly claims, "Eat them." Her eyebrows waggle.

The doppleganger mirrors the teeth chomping, rubbing its belly enthusiastically with one ethereal hand.

"My. How you've changed." Benedicto drawls, his eyes narrowing. Despite this a fleeting expression of disappointment flickers and vanishes on his features and his words hold an undertone of sorrow. He turns his pearl-white gaze upon the doppleganger where it hardens. "Does that really have to be here?" He grunts, pointing towards it. "If you insist on kidnapping me and then calling me a liar, then I insist that it is we alone that converse together. I don't want that creature making a mockery and cavorting around."

You have emoted: Moirean rolls her eyes and waves her hand in a dismissive gesture. The doppleganger responds with a firm, emphatic pout, crossing its arms over its chest in an exaggerated echo of a quite familiar gesture. The Imp narrows her eyes and shoos at it, with both hands this time, adding a foot stomp for good measure - in reply, the demon sticks its tongue out before vanishing in a spark of motes.

You thank Moirean for its service, and bid it return to the Chaos Plane.

You have emoted: Moirean turns her attention back to you and says, "I think you hurt its feelings."

Something like a wry smile creases the corner of Benedicto's mouth as he replies, "In that, I get the impression that it takes after its Master. The behavior is certainly eerily familiar."

You have emoted: Moirean sticks her tongue out at you and turns on her heel. She quickly weaves through the thicket of pikes to approach the very edge of the summit, where she unceremoniously plops herself down, legs dangling lazily off the edge. "Since you don't like my decorations," she offers, voice rising in an invitation for you to join her, away from the heads.

Benedicto moves his bottom jaw from side to side as he considers the invitation. Finally he breaks the silence, "Why have you brought me here, Moirean? No more games."

You have emoted: "You lie," Moirean repeats. She is staring out across the world, hands splayed on the earth to either side of her. A faint breeze ruffles her curls, twisting their snarls even further - it seems combs could be added to the list of things she has excised from her life, judging from the tangles.

"What exactly do I lie about?" Benedicto demands, sheathing his hands into the opposite sleeve of his robes.

You say, "Me. You. You lie to me. You lie to yourself." She twists back to stare at you, eyebrow raising. "Why do you pretend that I have changed so much?"

You have emoted: Moirean jerks her chin upwards to indicate one of the pikes. "My tent in the Mamashi had just as many decorations - only it was Kadvar's head and Ison's head, and you did not mind, back then. I taunted Edhain with wreathes designed to look like dead children and I pretended that my wolf ate children, and you thought me fierce and clever. But now, my pikes and my jokes are horrid and this is proof of my evil?" She snorts. "You lie - you make justifications so hating me feels easier. More natural."

"Why do I lie to myself? I see the things you do, the acts you commit." Benedicto finally moves towards the edge, though a healthy distance remains between you and him. "I look at this place and think, 'Would the Moirean I loved and remember have created a place such as this?' And I say..." He pauses to look at you, absorbing you words with a grim expression. "You're right, I always knew you were vicious. You had the capacity for brutality. But, it was manageable then. Nothing on the scale to which you seem to be achieving now." He sweeps his arm behind him at the forest of ankle-high pikes, the silk material of his robe rustling at the movement.

His mouth twisting in distaste, Benedicto says, "Now you seem to revel in it. Like a pig does it's own filth."

You have emoted: Moirean lifts her chin and retorts, "Lies."

Benedicto snorts derisively. "If you say so." He draws his arm back, placing his hands back into his sleeves. "The evidence is against you however."

You have emoted: Moirean crosses her arms over her chest and demands, "Evidence, yes. Present it aloud, before you judge me."

You have emoted: Moirean's ears twitch towards you, listening intently.

"I would say this plateau of yours is evidence enough. Though there are other actions of yours. The hundreds of innocents you slaughtered with which to fill that Archway of yours." Benedicto turns his gaze away from you in disgust. "Yes. I heard about that."

You have emoted: Moirean flexes a steel arm webbed in living soulstone, the liquid soulstone pulsing across the steel in a inky, black network. "Xorani," she insists. "No different from what you and yours do. Merely more...concentrated."

Benedicto allows his eyes to flit towards your steel arm. "Xorani. They have threatened Enorian. I only kill the martial creatures amongst them. I leave the children and women. You, however, slaughtered the innocents, heedless. Tainhelm, a village of dwarves that tries to live peacefully. All slaughtered. They had made no threats, or posed none, to the Carnifex."

His expression twisting, Benedicto says, "Not to mention that what I do, I do out of a sense of duty and protection. You revel in the carnage."

You have emoted: Moirean's cheeks flush and she heatedly replies, "I ALWAYS have. You're a LIAR, to pretend that you are appalled by this suddenly. You're a LIAR to pretend that you are devout and holy and clean." She raises an eyebrow as her lips curl in a faint smirk. "At least *I* am not going around trying to sell off people to pirates."

Benedicto lowers his head, his lower jaw jutting slightly. "I don't pretend to be holy or clean." He states matter-of-factly. "I don't pretend to be anything other than what I am. What you see is what you get." His head jerks up and his eyes seem to burn with the fierceness of his stare at you. "You're right. I did. Would that I have succeeded and potentially saved so many innocent lives!" He grates angrily.

You have emoted: Moirean's wings flap in a single, crisp fold and she haughtily states, "You say innocent, I say untested. We both want the best for those little weaklings. Your best is just...worse. Coddling. Sheltering. Teaching them nothing." Her shoulders square as she insists, "I forge them in fire. The strong endure and the world is better for it."

Benedicto shakes his head, his voice rich with frustration. "Now I call you the liar. You know that the people of the villages cannot stand before any of us. Even our weakest warriors can tackle them. If they were any stronger then they would be in a Guild, or have our skills. They would be -known-." He takes a step towards you, almost spitting in anger. His pearl-white eyes blaze with his fury and his teeth are bared as he continues, "You take advantage of the weak! If you truly valued yourselves as warriors then you would have tried to fill it with the bodies of those that could actually defend themselves!"

You have emoted: Moirean twists around to stand, drawing herself up as tall as she can go to stare right up at you. "LIAR!" she insists, voice shrill. "*I* am just doing *MY* duty!" Her flush has deepened to a crimson blush and her eyes are wide. "That is all I've EVER done! I fight and bleed and lead and follow and make wars and win them and train and fight and fight and kill kill kill because that is what people want me to do." She inhales and exhales raggedly, her words coming to a breathless finish: "...It's just my fucking duty."

Voice dropping quiet, you say, "Enorian and Duiran were plenty happy with that, when they were aiming me at the Undead."

"Duty is not an excuse for moral ambiguity." Benedicto snorts, taking another step towards you before stopping and glaring down at you. "You want to know what I think? I think that you perpetrate this madness, the carnage and the murder to justify your reasons for remaining there. That with every additional life you take it might somehow justify what you do. That if you stopped, you would no longer have any purpose or reason for remaining with the Carnifex."

You have emoted: Moirean's mouth opens and then closes. She lifts her hands up, clamping them over her ears, and begins to shake her head. "Liar liar liar," she mumbles, eyes squeezing shut.

"Your wanton bloodlust is just a facade. Yet another act of Moirean bravado with which to cower behind." Benedicto continues inexorably. His words are relentless as he raises his voice over your chanting. "You'll eventually run out of lies. They will just become bigger and bigger until it is impossible for the next lie to cover the previous one." He pauses, allowing this to sink in for a moment. "I am not the liar. You are."

You have emoted: "LIES LIES LIES!" Moirean nearly screams, still shaking her head in denial. Her cheeks are wet - somewhere in her cries, tears have begun - and she is trembling. She hiccups, voice tripping on her objections. "Lies li-liar lies..." she hoarsely continues, voice dropping to a ragged whisper.

Benedicto takes the final step towards you, releasing his hands from within the sleeves of his robes to place them upon you shoulders. "Truth." He says softly, shaking you gently with the word in an attempt to rouse you from your gibbering. "Truth, Moirean!"

You have emoted: Moirean's hands drop away from her ears, although her head keeps shaking mechanically. "No," she tries to object. "I am... you are..." Words fail her and she simply stands there, head dropping downwards to stare at the ground. Tears splash into the dirt.

Benedicto shakes you more firmly. "Truth, Moirean! Look at me!" His pearl-white gaze pierces you. "Your life is a lie. You've buried yourself and the truth in slaughter. What would our son say if he could see you? Would he welcome you as his mother? He was birthed in love. He was the creation of love. Where is that love now?" His voice is barely above a whisper, urgent and filled with passion.

You have emoted: Moirean drags her gaze up to you, blinking blearily to just barely meet your stare. She raises a balled fist to rub at her eyes with the heel of her hand and she quietly, haltingly replies, "Never gone. Always there." In a pained voice, she softly, weakly insists, "...not evil. I'm not EVIL."

"You're not." Benedicto agrees, his grip on your shoulders tightening slightly. "What you -do- is evil. You are -trapped- in Evil. Bound by Malevolence."

You have emoted: Moirean's hand slides sideways to lightly touch a black-inked tattoo of a pair of crossed fists. "I am doing things right now, though," she faintly objects. "People finally trust me. I'm good..." Her gaze meet yours fully and there is a deep, confused longing there - the corners of her eyes are downturned and her brow furrowed as she quietly says, "They like me, fully, finally. This is-"

You have emoted: Another hiccup, a hint of more tears and Moirean's expression becomes downright pitiful. "This is the furthest from evil I've ever been," she manages to explain. "How is it wrong?"

Benedicto glances down at the tattoo, his own brow furrowing slightly as he examines it. "They trust and follow a lie. You've made yourself into a standard for others to follow. They don't follow the person Moirean. They follow an ideal of slaughter and carnage that you have created. You're no more that Moirean than I am a talking fish."

You have emoted: Moirean swallows back a giggle and points out, "But you are a fish. Who talks." She flushes again, the flash of mirth immediately fading, and breaks the stare, turning her head to look sideways, eyes unfocused as she gazes at the forest of pikes behind you. Quietly: "And who is the real me, then? Does it even matter?"

Benedicto smiles in reply, the small action transforming his whole face and you finally see the caring expression that mirrors his words. "Moirean who is a mother. Moirean that fights and defends those she loves but understands the meaning of the word 'innocence'. That understands her strength isn't meant for abusing those weaker than her." His smile falters as he asks, "What do you think your son would say?"

With a trace of bitterness, you say, "You've made it clear that I will never know the answer to that. That I don't deserve to."

"As you currently are, yes. I wouldn't want to see what it would do to either of you." Benedicto retorts.

Softly, Benedicto asks, "Could you handle your own son hating you for what you've become?"

You have emoted: Moirean shakes her head silently, fresh tears springing to her eyes.

Benedicto gives a small nod, though it's clear he had already anticipated the answer.

You have emoted: Moirean lifts a hand to dash away her tears and accusingly replies, "You aren't perfect, either. You're in Enorian - the city has become intolerant, full of zealots, mindlessly condemning anyone who strays a step away from the light."

Benedicto releases a hand from your shoulder to wave it negligently in dismissal. "The difference is that I don't pander to them. I don't strive to be anything other than I am. If they want to take issue with it then they can come to me with it. People will either trust me or they won't. They will either tolerate me or they won't." He allows his other hand to drop from your shoulder. "You have always strived to be wanted and accepted by everyone. You've failed to realize the simple truth. You were accepted. You were trusted." He stares at you for a long moment. "By your family. The people that loved you."

Benedicto takes a step back and turns away from you. "Think on that." Comes his voice as he steps off the edge.

You have emoted: Moirean echoes, "Loved." She emphasizes the last letter.

Benedicto leaves to the down.

Swallowing, you say, "Loved. Once."

Shaking her head, you say, "But no longer."