[There's a terrible blurring of distinctions between things that ought to be kept well apart from each other with sufficient time under the grindstone of the universe. Mercy harbours no illusions about herself in this. She is a more rotten revenant than any of them.
Thus, when Lazarus commits blasphemy twice over, holy names uttered in this dirty crevice of a filthy city, the Second Saint to serve the King Undying, founder of his most devout House, and most stringent, unrelentingly guardian of those sacred syllables - she really does laugh.
It's a softer, prettier laugh than should come out of her mouth, still half-masked in gore, chiming and high and wholly in disbelief.]
No. You don't strike me as the idly threatening type.
[She says it with a stress on idly that tings with satisfaction, like she's hit upon a puzzle slotting into place, and is pleased with its shape.]
But yes...why should you care for God's discretion, when he has so badly misplaced it? As for why - I can't imagine. We did not part on the best of terms. It wouldn't win you any favours...and I somehow doubt he's inclined to bestow them on you anyway.
no subject
Thus, when Lazarus commits blasphemy twice over, holy names uttered in this dirty crevice of a filthy city, the Second Saint to serve the King Undying, founder of his most devout House, and most stringent, unrelentingly guardian of those sacred syllables - she really does laugh.
It's a softer, prettier laugh than should come out of her mouth, still half-masked in gore, chiming and high and wholly in disbelief.]
No. You don't strike me as the idly threatening type.
[She says it with a stress on idly that tings with satisfaction, like she's hit upon a puzzle slotting into place, and is pleased with its shape.]
But yes...why should you care for God's discretion, when he has so badly misplaced it? As for why - I can't imagine. We did not part on the best of terms. It wouldn't win you any favours...and I somehow doubt he's inclined to bestow them on you anyway.