SidorSidor lowered the smoking gun, watching the blood run through the Reverand's lips and from the bullet hole. The words resounded in his head and somehow struck a nerve, even as he felt the ice-hot sensation of the burn on his ribs echoing throughout his dead flesh. His free hand shifted to it, feeling the damage. That would last. He would need to take a great deal of care over it.
God hates you.
Of course God hated him. He had been a vile creature in life, unworthy of even the basic consideration by the divine.
God hates you.
He was Damned. There was no reason this should be news to him.
God hates you.
He had not been able to call up the Dark Blessing, but a bullet had worked, so this man was not so blessed that God had defended him.
God hates you.
Was he... wrong? He had been working so furiously to follow the teachings of Longinius. Why else would the Blessings so consistantly fail him? He felt for the first time in his unlife unsure, weak. His control of the Sorcery in Sverdlovsk had been strong, potent. Here it seemed all but worthless.
Less effective than a gun.
Less effective than shouting.
Not even capable of protecting from fire.
Sidor's head spun, and his free hand moved from his shadowed face to his temple, rubbing it as he looked into the glassy eyes of the dead man. His world crashed around him in the flaming wreckage. If he was wrong, then there was nothing he'd done of worth in this unlife. Years had been wasted.
He wasn't aware that he holstered the gun and stepped away, only that something was broken and lost, irrevocably and irretrivably lost. If the Reverand had been Kindred, he would have thought that he had worked some magic to shatter his sense of self.
But the Reverand was just a mortal.
Awesome, dude. As an ST, I love it when someone takes something and runs with itI was hoping for something like this when I considered my last post for Rev.
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