Daylight was something he consciously avoided. There was no specific reason for doing so other than perhaps personal preference. It was impulsive really. Those little beams that shone in through the curtains, the tendrils of sun that licked at his boots, he felt... an ache at the thought of being able to bask in all of that in this state, in this form. He felt that.. he didn't really deserve it. But what he did feel was that Sarai deserved to know some things. Even if they wouldn't really do much to change her life as she lived it now, nor would they impact her powers. It was within her right to be notified, as someone tethered to the void by his will.He brought the shadows with him, as well as a creeping feeling of uncertainty that nestled against her spine, a chill along her skin. He didn't have much time here. He could leak through the cracks in the slab but it wouldn't be long before those cracks would close and others would open. He had a window, for now. And he stood calmly against the arch leading to her desk, staring out at the brightly lit world just outside those two flimsy closet doors. "You've made a name for yourself, wrath" he spoke calmly, tilting his head to the side and staring down at her expectantly.
The Outsider figured that if he could be, he would be somewhat offended by the tone she took, the implications of her words. That he was here to make some sort of business proposal. Or that he was a bearer of bad news. Perhaps he shouldn't have bothered showing up afterall. "Knocking is tedious and requires the usage of doors." he replied briefly, watching her walk by. She always made him a little nervous, he had to admit. Or at least, a dulled, dreamlike nervousness ascended to the front of his mind whenever she spoke. He wasn't sure what exactly about her spiked his anxiety. But it certainly was something. She was a furious one, wrath, and she walked with fire at her heels, and venom on her tongue that was sharp like a Tyvian dagger."And what if that were the case. That I came voluntarily, that approach you with genuine curiosity. What of that?" he asked.
She wasn't the first he'd visited but he'd be lying if he said there wasn't something pulling him towards her presence. He knew he wouldn't be able to visit all of his marked ones before the time came, but she was one of them. One of the few he found himself watching more often than not. Not because she was more entertaining than the others but because something deep down, where there were still gently temperate coals stewing at his core, found himself proud. She hadn't not spilled blood but nevertheless, she'd made something of herself. She'd accomplished what few could only dream of.That was worth something at least.".. Do you realize that you might be one of the most interesting people in all of the Isles? And perhaps even history itself?" he asked, standing tall and clasping his hands behind his back as he paced about, carefully examining little trinkets here and there."Your actions have impact, their landing ripples throughout the Isles and will continue to do so against the tides of eternity. You are actively setting a legacy into motion. Do you ever stop to contemplate that?" he asked curiously, glancing at her from the side.
He noticed the way she dodged but he figured he had no room to talk. His eyes traced the mark on the back of her neck, where it would be anyways, as he paced back into her view. He stopped, leaning against the wall and noticeably avoiding the sunlight that poured through and settled on the carpeting. "Have you ever heard of the Knife of Dunwall?" he asked suddenly, brows raising expectantly at her. He looked odd in this lighting, like a cardboard cutout, as if reality itself were rejecting his presence.
"His name was Daud. He came from the streets with nothing but his muddied boots and the hand me down clothes on his back. He had opportunity, he had potential. He could have joined the guard, he could have even... perhaps became the royal protector, and then later, the spymaster. But he did not." he explained, not taking any time to acknowledge her usual sassy attitude. He didn't have much time anyways."Instead, Daud grew to be a young man with a fiery temper. His parents had left him for dead, his father had kicked him to the side. But when he found himself in one of the darkest corners of Serkonos, amongst bloodflies and rats with patchy fur, given the choice of a lifetime, of an era, he chose a darker path. A path paved by the blood of the innocent, where his footprints ran red and his hands were so deeply soaked in tragedy that even washed, they held a metallic scent." he glanced up to meet her gaze but immediately looked away."A few decades ago, Daud was paid a considerable amount of money to kill a particular noble. She was fair and benevolent and her hair fell in dark almond locks down her shoulders and her eyes were as blue as the clearest of skies. And she cared for the empire with gentle hands that were firm but calloused with hard labor. Her name was Jessamine Kaldwin, and she was the best ruler the Isles had ever seen. People still mourn her death, they prospered under her reign. Thousands came to her funeral and wept at her service. Her daughter wasn't present at the time, kidnapped by nobles who aimed to steal the throne out from under her." he furrowed his brows in remembrance, frowning faintly."Those were the bad old days, where the gutters ran with the tears of plague victims in the flooded district and rats gnawed on the corpses of the recently deceased. Daud found himself there, with his whalers, his posse of street children, given his powers, the only form of affection any of them had ever known. He cared for them like his children, and he was a hardened man with walls of steel but they corroded under the guilt of killing one of the only good nobles, who could make a change, who could save his many children from poverty and the grime of the abandoned apartments where they slept into the night" he swallowed and found himself worrying the rings on his fingers behind his back."Where he killed one empress, he saved another. No one knows that side of the story though. They only know the folk tales told to children to get them to do what they're told, to scare them. Daud spilled blood yes, but up until the moment his blade struck her heart and stopped it dead in her chest, he was a good man."
He turned to face her and shook his head slowly, "Muddied fingers can still turn valves." he said simply, raising a brow at her actions, "Your anger doesn't define you. But it can consume, and in the years to come, I see a vast angry wildfire devouring you. Horrible glimpses of the future foretell a you that is not you, that is not Sarai, but wrath. Overcome your past yes, but remain there and you will never develop. You will never progress if you waste your life away feeding that raging flame within you. Shovel your coal and burn your fingers, scar your mind with the screams of those that did no wrong an you will forget your name." his tone shifted, seeming more stern than before. He stared at her now, eyes flickering over her figure as if to remember each and every fine detail. "The world will sour you and make you bitter, scream at it too much and your throat will run dry and crack under the pressure of your responsibilities. I do not want anything. I do not desire a specific outcome nor do I expect anything from you other than an ear to lend in these final days. I offer you advice Sarai, because I see the path that you have taken, I see the direction that you go and though I am left hollow and apathetic by the whims of the void, it still worries me deeply."
His gaze met the floor and he flicked away, reappearing in the next room just behind the couches. He brought his hand over the smooth surface of the countertops. Though he couldn't feel them, he could remember what they might have felt like. "... The Void craves representation. It yearns for a head to its body, to speak for its actions, to take the fall when necessary. The empire wants a martyr, something to pin all of its evildoings on, a scapegoat if you will. The Outsider has been both simultaneously for four thousand years, and while I have been robbed of human faculty.. I am tired." he turned to face her once more, his back pressed against the counter."My place will be taken. Perhaps moments after my passing, perhaps years, centuries even. Whenever the time comes, whenever destiny sees fit. Yes, these are my final days." he explained vaguely, as per usual.
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