2018-02-10: Atoner of Sin

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  • Cutscene: Atoner of Sin
  • Cast: Rosaline Calice, Mother Oba
  • Where: November City, Dazil
  • Date: 2018-02-10
  • Summary: Following the events of Hope Springs, Rosaline fails to receive good news, eats beans and melts a person.

Sister Brown was still bleary-eyed as she swept the front entrance to Saint Neil's Church in preparation for the morning service. All of them got up fairly early, but she had never been a morning person. She hadn't even noticed the diminutive figure standing right in front of her, until she heard a throat clearing.

She opened her half-lidded eyes and lowered her gaze, then let out a little 'Oh!'

"Mother Oba! Good morning."

The gentle-looking, chubby old lady was well-known in the region, often dragging an Etone hopeful or two behind her, into a world of trouble and back. Today she was alone, however, but Sister Brown could probably guess at the reason for her visit.

"Good mornin', good mornin'. Have you seen Sister Calice lately? I've just been to her room to deliver some good news, and it looks like she's out."

She produced an envelope, bearing the Ethos high command seal. Sister Brown leaned on her broom.

"I'm covering for her chore duties, actyally... She ran off for another of her Drifter trips. Don't know what that was about, but it seemed like she was taking a small army by the look for things. I actually thought she'd be back by now."

Mother Oba scratched at her scalp and sniffed.

"Is that so? My, my, what a crying shame. I keep meanin' and trying to catch her, but the moment I find two minutes, she's already off on some adventure. A real workaholic, that one. At this rate I'll just slip the letter under her door and let her find it."

"Makes sense. We don't talk much, but she seems like she's been having a rough time of things, so I bet she'd welcome some good news. So what is it, Mother?" She leans in, conspiratorially, "If it's not an Ethos top secret."

Oba grinned.

"No, not at all. It's just to tell her that her training is complete. She's a real Etone now. I wanted to ordain her in person, but in busy times like these, sometimes mail has to do. She should have gotten this much earlier if you ask me. Helped so much with the Wel crisis, with Brother Mathias and so much more besides. But church politics, you know? Had to make a real case. Can you believe, in the year of our Lord 500, that some fossils still don't want beastfolk ordained? And they kept bringing up that whole tower mess like any of it was her fault."

"Tower mess?"

"Haha! Look at me babblin'. Never you mind that one."

Oba shook her head.

"Well, it is what it is. I just hope nothing too bad happened to poor Rosaline."

She was now an abomination against God.

Rosaline had come to this conclusion several times now over the last few days, but she felt it more keenly than ever. The newborn Hellion was watching the sun rise over Dazil, bleary-eyed, from a deserted rooftop she was trespessing on, in a makeshift shelter she had made herself from stolen goods, supplied with cans of stolen food.

The clothes she was wearing did not belong to her either. With her forearms and feet now much more paw-like and oversized compared to the rest of her, her options were limited. She had ended up tearing the sleeves off of a coat and wearing it over a long-skirted dress. It probably looked odd, she reflected, but then just about anything looked odd on her-- Even her transformation aside, she had barely ever worn anything besides her habit in almost a decade now.

The blood-drenched wedding dress she had crawled into the city wearing was long-gone now. She had already burned it for warmth soon after she set up camp, only to find the heat wasn't helping much. Her own hair was flame now, somehow heatless most of the time, but as hot and potent as the real thing whenever she willed it. Yet no matter what, she always felt uncomfortably cool-- that is, until she had focused her attention on the burning garment.

That had been the only time she had felt warm so far. Watching that memento burn away had been a bittersweet feeling but an immense relief. Not long ago, she thought the day her orphanage burned down had been the worst of her life. This was no longer the case. Whatever trial God had set in her path, Rosaline had obviously failed it.

She shifted under her (stolen) blanket and decided to distract herself with breakfast, rather than continue torturing herself with those thoughts yet again. She reached for a can of beans. Her hands had become unwieldy, in part thanks to her inches-long claws, but she had learned a useful trick. Red, faintly glowing strings appeared at the ends of her claws, slithered through the air and attached themselves to the can. With a slight shift of her hand, she pulled the object closer to her. With a single claw on her free hand, she pierced the metal and tore the lid open like a piece of paper.

She then held the can over her opened palm, from which appeared a small flame. She warned the food up, but barely. She had grown paranoid about the scent potentially attracting... well, anything.

And then, she scooped the food out with her claws and licked them. They weren't the best tool for the job, but she had little else to work with. It was a tricky process, but it kept her mind occupied. At one point, she cut her tongue. She felt the pain and tasted blood, and found herself surprised at how little this bothered her.

Once the can was empty, she stepped over to the parapet, remaining on all fours as she did. Her limb's proportions had always been a little off from most people's, making walking like this possible at all, but her transformation had exacerbated that, making more catlike motions feel more natural than otherwise.

Before she peered over the edge, she closed her eyes and concentrated. The inferno of her hair died down, flickering to embers before disappearing entirely, leaving behind her usual large mass of curly hair. Her arms and legs shrank down to more normal proportions, while her second tail vanished in the air, and various other more subtle features shifted around and left her, once again, looking like the beastwoman she was used to seeing in the mirror.

Her friends had once been alarmed to learn that some Hellions could conceal their nature even from the resonant. She had tried it early, as she tested her new powers, and found it disconcertingly easy. It felt like holding her breath in a lot of ways, and to tell the truth she didn't like doing it, but she liked having the option. Perhaps doing this would be a way to keep a grip on her humanity. And even though she figured only a handful of people in the entire city could even see her monstrous form for what it was, she preferred to take the precaution.

And so, she looked over at the street below her, at the buildings ahead. Below, street vendors were setting up shop. Would she need to steal anything today? No, she thought, she had enough to survive. And yet, as an Aveh patrol passed by the stalls, she was reminded that it might be wise not to stay in this city much longer. She didn't know where she could even go anymore, but just about anywhere would be an improvement.

The city's Ethos headquarters was silhouetted in the distance, just around the corner. A part of Rosaline wondered why she didn't just walk into the building and explain everything... but no. She wasn't wearing her habit, she had nothing to identify herself, and even if someone recognized her, they might think this was going to be another Brother Mathias situation.

Was she even an Etone-in-Training anymore? No, Rosaline decided, with a rare certainty. She had strayed far from the path. Etones were called Atoners of Sin, living on a precarious line between necessary violence and soul-cleansing charity. But she didn't feel the strength nor even the inclination for the latter anymore. It might not be too late for her to be forgiven, but did she even want to be anymore? God had tested her so much, again and again, and finally she had broken. She wasn't fit for the Church anymore.

But then, with a horrifying, sinking feeling of realization, resentment at those many tests came into focus. Not for Hope Springs, not only that, at least, nor for Garmia Tower, nor for the Guardian Temple, or Adlehyde, or Brother Gevurah, or even the orphanage fire. No, it was a resentment that ran much, much deeper.

She realized that she hated Him.

So, the Church was out, and to her horror, a part of her was saying 'good riddance'. So where else was there? Wayside, maybe? Probably not. Or she could try and track her friends down. They would welcome her with open arms and she knew it, but should they? Probably not. She was dangerous now, even to them, and she wasn't sure they would understand to which extent. Ida might. Maybe Talise. Besides, did she even want to see them?

Her thoughts were interrupted by shouting below. Two Aveh patrolmen were harassing one of the street vendors, a scaly beastman. They were asking to see his permit, which he produced. The soldiers acted dubious, then one made a big show of claiming it looked fake, promptly tearing it in half. The beastman shouted and moved suddenly. Not a second later he was thrown to the ground, with one of the patrolmen kicking him while the other laughed. Everyone in the street walked past as if they couldn't see anything.

Ah, he**.

In a fluid motion, as if poured off the ledge, Rosaline stepped off and gracefully sailed down and onto the ground next to them. She rose off her feet, teeth bared at the two patrolmen. She stopped holding her breath. Flames roared to life all around her, whirling around her hands as they morphed back to their true form. Casting her disguise away felt like such a relief. No, not just that. A thrill. A rush.

The patrolmen didn't see the flames, only an angry beastwoman. This was enough for them. They looked away from the vendor, reaching for ARMs.

Rosaline did not allow them. She pounced upon one, brutally pinning him to the ground, then leapt for the other, claws first. They found purchase in his chest, from which she pulled out a large and bloody chunk. He collapsed, already dead.

The Hellion then turned to the other man, stumbling to get up. She waved a hand and already his body was aflame. As he screamed, the flames only intensified. Rosaline stood there, watching with an unblinking gaze.

Not long ago, she would have let herself be consumed by rage and only walked away with faint memories of the experience. But now? She felt in full control of her faculties. This was a both terrifying and exilarating sensation. Watching the figure outright melt down before her... didn't necessarily bring her joy, but there it was again, that feeling of relief, of warmth, faint but undeniable.

The man's remains barely even looked like they were once human. By comparison, his partner had been much luckier. But Rosaline snapped out of her tunnel vision, noticing the panic around her, the screaming and shouting as the street cleared out. Even the vendor she had just 'saved' had run away, and with good reason.

Rosaline breathed heavily as reality set back in. She couldn't stay here anymore, this much was obvious.

She turned tails and ran towards the city's gates, hands first. Where would she go? How would she get there? She had no idea, but for now she could only run.