Alright. [In truth, Damian doesn't have any say over what gets caught in the snare. If he knows what they're looking for, he can capture and release until they get something appropriate.
He's quiet the rest of the way in, mostly since he seems attentive to the area. They don't have to go far to get the job done, but he knows they have to pick a good spot. Looking up through the trees is only to be sure nothing won't jump them. His focus is usually along the ground, the brush. A few times, he pauses to bend down and inspect tracks.] There.
[He points across the forest floor to the distance.] A trail. [The trap goes in a tight squeeze where there's a lot of concealment from the forest. He has two thick, short sticks that have been carved with notches, and those seem to be the release mechanism when he puts them together with the ropes. Set-up takes about ten minutes.]
Now we wait.
[They won't have to chase with a snare, so Damian leads them a good distance away and behind one of the heavier trees to sit. Whispering is fine; however, Dextera can understand a better method.] The tracks were hooves, but small. Maybe a pig or boar or a goat.
[ dextera watches damian set things up, clearly impressed with it all. he’s never been good with traps—the occasional disk or brand has served him well, but he has none of those here. he’s not sure what would serve to trap an animal, anyway—a paralysis disk? a glue brand? he’s never tried to use one like that, and he’s not sure when he’ll get the chance again.
he nods. ]
You do this often?
[ the execution squad members were much more made for this kind of thing than dextera, but he never had to be stealthy about killing. ]
[ so he can relate. the things he destroyed with his own hands and not with purification would yield him chunks of flesh or hearts, and he would devour it like a banquet laid out before him. ]
[ there’s no way to heal them, but all the monsters he’s fought were people, once. they had lives and dreams and dextera ruined them, and ate them as if that weren’t cruel enough. ]
I see. [Disconcerting. In a way, Damian doesn't have to feel quite so bad about his fucked up sins.] I'm vegetarian. [It's supposed to be a joke, but maybe it falls a little short because of the subject.
For a few minutes, he's quiet without it being awkward. He thoughtfully peers at the ground ahead, but keeps an ear open for the trap behind them, for movement.] What happened after you killed them?
[ …it’s a joke that lands, and dextera finds that a breath of a laugh slips out of him before he can even think about stopping it. a cannibal and a vegetarian walk into a bar…
it’s morbid, but so is dextera’s entire life. ]
Sometimes, nothing. Sometimes, I learned. I never hated them. It’s bittersweet to know who they were.
[He nods, but doesn't have much to say to make Dextera feel better. While he's good with encouragement to keep pushing, keep going, he's not that great with Feelings and Comfort.]
Most people aren't afraid of dying. Some. What people are afraid of is not being remembered. Maybe it was helpful you could know them.
[ not being remembered… indeed. in dextera’s view, that’s the greatest sin anyone could commit, and he managed to do it anyway. he’d forgotten his brother, and for that? strangulation.
oh well! ]
…
[ dextera smiles, just a little, something grateful and wistful in equal measure. ]
Do you really eat-- [It's as much as he gets out before a heavy snapping of branch and brush causes him to look surprised. He quickly motions for Dextera to be quiet, and then he turns to peer around the tree.
A good bit of snares are made to kill the animal immediately, as most hunters don't wait for the trap to be set off. It gives the animal some mercy, a quick death. This one, though, just captures.
The thing looks kind of like a goat, in a way, and both back legs are pinned together to keep it from bouncing off. Whatever it is sounds horrendous; even if it starts as bleating, the end dwindles into something of a whistling song. A bird, maybe. The wings aren't huge, but they're there.
Damian stands and heads out from behind the tree, but he doesn't press forward. His voice is low.] Are you ready? [He glances at Dextera.]
[ whatever the question was that damian was about to ask, the answer would be, with almost 100% certainty, yes. it’s not a nice thing, but at least he’s constant in his diet. ]
…
[ dextera easily settles into “position,” forgetting their conversation nearly instantaneously when they’re faced with what they came here to do. he’s still nervous. he’s sure he’s going to kill it, and then—maybe it would be a waste to just leave it there. he’s not going to think about it until it’s done. he nods, and pulls himself up to full height next to damian. ]
Be careful. [He thought about holding the head of the animal to help, but then he thinks he might get in Dextera's way. Whatever the case, he's ready, and he follows Dextera to stop a yard or so away. Space, but not out of reach.]
I'm going to jump in if anything happens. If something goes wrong, look me in the face, and I'll know.
[He doesn't care what it is, he'll be leaping head-first in to grab, or punch, or kick Dextera out of the way.]
[ dextera nods, and then he slowly approaches it—almost apologetic, and it’s clear in everything about the way he moves that he thinks this isn’t going to go well. he’s not a good who creates life, not one who protects it, and he can barely preserve the things that already exist.
still, they came here with a mission. he inhales deeply, and lays his hand on the goat’s forehead. as with damian, during the werewolves, his hands begin to glow with a holy light that is well and terribly familiar to dextera by now. he’s used his purification in small and even mundane ways, on things that weren’t living or things he knew wouldn’t die from it, but this time…
he swallows, and pushes the light into the animal’s body completely. it writhes, letting out that terrible sound again, and then that sound seems to split in two. there’s the goat’s bleating, nearly crying, accompanied by the dying breath of a bird, until the latter snuffs out entirely. ]
…
[ dextera closes his eyes at that particular juncture, so he misses what happens when the light fades: there is a perfectly normal goat, unsteady and colorless, standing next to a pile of tiny parts, most noticeably, what was likely once the wing of a living creature. there are some light green feathers stained in blood, and a few bones at odd angles. ]
[Up until this point, everything was very clinical for Damian, as usual. It was a mission, a goal. An in-and-out. They go into the forest, they find a mutated animal, they Lay Hands, done.
But as Dextera approaches the hybrid thing, Damian feels a twang of discomfort. Sure, this worked on him as a werewolf. Technically, he was two different things? But he was half human and half animal, not half animal and half animal.
Maybe this won't work after all. Dextera will purify so heavily it'll just obliterate it from existence because it maybe shouldn't have existed at all.
But things go (somewhat) better than expected. His wince against the awful cries softens, and he lowers the hand that had risen to begin to shield his face from the light. Oh. That's... definitely a goat noise. He steps forward, once, twice, then closes the distance.
It's... a goat!
And there's... some... parts of... a bird. Oh no.] It's--alive. You split them.
[ that can’t be right. dextera looks to damian, first, turning his head toward the sound of a voice. he doesn’t want to see what he’s done, but… it turned out all right? he split them? he lets himself look back at the fruits of his labor. the goat stumbles a little, just from standing, as if it were a newborn.
he doesn’t see the “other” animal right away, but he knows that there must be two for the goat-creature to have had wings in the first place—oh.
he winces. he should be happy at the success, but there’s also… ]
[...Yeah. The goat is... cute? At least they got a goat, even if colorless and fragile.
Carefully, Damian squats down beside Dextera and reaches out to, timidly at first, pet the goat along the back to make sure... He doesn't know. It's real? It's okay? It bleats loudly and suddenly at him, and he's actually startled by how his hand jerks back.
Oh. It was just crying.] One is better than nothing. You... [He glances at Dextera, likewise feeling somewhat guilty about the bird.] You did it.
[ one is better than nothing. why couldn’t he save both? why did his brother—?
he stops his breath in his lungs, forcing himself away from that train of thought. it’s not a bad one to pursue, but not now. he and his brother were not mutated animals begging to be split apart. ]
…
[ he looks down at his own hands, frowning, before he answers damian a few moments later. ]
I should… be able… to do better.
[ and yet? the goat is cute. dextera remembers as well that the animals did not necessarily enjoy being spliced together—two sets of instincts weren’t always compatible. in the end, even if they lost the bird, this is the more humane form. ]
Focus on one thing at a time. [He knows how it feels, very much so. He knows "I should be able to do better," and then some. He knows a slight feels more like a failure.] You only tried to purify one.
With time, you might be able to purify and splice two, saving both. [Poor bird, though.] We'll say something for the bird. [For a moment or two, he doesn't say anything, but seems thoughtful. Then, quietly:] "Where eternal luster glows, the realm in which the light divine is set, place me, Purifier, in that deathless, imperishable world.
"Make me immortal in that realm where movement is accordant to wish, in the third region, the third heaven of heavens, where the worlds are resplendent." [He looks back up at Dextera as if to say,
[ it seems—familiar, almost, like something dextera once read but can’t remember the name of anymore. he closes his eyes, searching back through his memories, touching on the hazy recollection of learning chess, being in a classroom, having a teacher and mentor. it would have been foolish, to try to find god in only one place. ]
A Vedic hymn.
[ he didn’t study only abrahamic religions, after all. ]
[Affirmatively, Damian nods. Even if he's impressed, he won't say it. He peers at the scattered remains of the bird, thinking maybe it'd be nicer to bury it, but knowing they don't exactly have the means.] The League was based in the Himalayas. [Is that too much info? He didn't say where exactly.]
People in the areas around were Hindu. [So Damian is more of a Muslim, Hindu, Buddhist boy, if anything. Not that he's religious.
With the utmost gentleness, Damian reaches out again to pat the goat on the shoulder. It's not a baby, though seems to be female with a cute, fat middle and spindly legs and dorky eyes.] What do you want to name it?
[ dextera nods as well. the archangel knows more about this… but he supposes it’s not important in the grand scheme of this task, and he doesn’t want to think about the archangel more than he must. as for a name for the goat, does damian really want another angelic animal running around? ]
…you choose.
[ dextera is afraid to touch the goat again, but he’d like to. it’s clear in his eyes that he wants to pet her. ]
Mm. [He waits in silence, allowing the name to come to him instead of searching for one. Authenticity matters, and authenticity means being patient for it.
He straightens to his full height and moves to stand by the goat's side, letting his legs be a kind of brace if needed.] You can pet her. [In indication, he rubs the bumpy crest of her skull between the ears. She bleats.] You won't hurt her.
And she won't hurt you. [Palm up, he extends his hand toward Dextera, offering to take his--he knows what it's like to have violent hands, but wanting them to offer something soft. They can pet her together.]
Capra.
No. [That's not right either. Not quite.] Capella. That'll be her name.
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He's quiet the rest of the way in, mostly since he seems attentive to the area. They don't have to go far to get the job done, but he knows they have to pick a good spot. Looking up through the trees is only to be sure nothing won't jump them. His focus is usually along the ground, the brush. A few times, he pauses to bend down and inspect tracks.] There.
[He points across the forest floor to the distance.] A trail. [The trap goes in a tight squeeze where there's a lot of concealment from the forest. He has two thick, short sticks that have been carved with notches, and those seem to be the release mechanism when he puts them together with the ropes. Set-up takes about ten minutes.]
Now we wait.
[They won't have to chase with a snare, so Damian leads them a good distance away and behind one of the heavier trees to sit. Whispering is fine; however, Dextera can understand a better method.] The tracks were hooves, but small. Maybe a pig or boar or a goat.
It might take a while.
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he nods. ]
You do this often?
[ the execution squad members were much more made for this kind of thing than dextera, but he never had to be stealthy about killing. ]
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[Are these good skills? Sure. Was Talia a good mother in teaching them? Mmmmmmm.]
She taught me to hunt, and then I had to or starve. If you couldn't even get your own food, you didn't deserve to live or be an assassin.
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I ate what I killed.
[ so he can relate. the things he destroyed with his own hands and not with purification would yield him chunks of flesh or hearts, and he would devour it like a banquet laid out before him. ]
No time to hunt.
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[The look he gives Dextera from the side is strange and unreadable.]
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[ it’s a soft sound, but one made with his mouth nonetheless. a glance toward the snare tells him that he didn’t scare anything away, at least. ]
Killing “them”… was defensive. The difference. Maybe.
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What were they? Animals? [Wait. Dextera is like "an apostle"?] ...People?
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…they were. [ he pauses. ] Not anymore.
[ there’s no way to heal them, but all the monsters he’s fought were people, once. they had lives and dreams and dextera ruined them, and ate them as if that weren’t cruel enough. ]
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I see. [Disconcerting. In a way, Damian doesn't have to feel quite so bad about his fucked up sins.] I'm vegetarian. [It's supposed to be a joke, but maybe it falls a little short because of the subject.
For a few minutes, he's quiet without it being awkward. He thoughtfully peers at the ground ahead, but keeps an ear open for the trap behind them, for movement.] What happened after you killed them?
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it’s morbid, but so is dextera’s entire life. ]
Sometimes, nothing. Sometimes, I learned. I never hated them. It’s bittersweet to know who they were.
[ he shakes his head. ]
I hope these animals are just that.
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Most people aren't afraid of dying. Some. What people are afraid of is not being remembered. Maybe it was helpful you could know them.
You... recycled their physical body.
?
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oh well! ]
…
[ dextera smiles, just a little, something grateful and wistful in equal measure. ]
Sounds efficient. I’ll take it. Thank you.
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Do you really eat-- [It's as much as he gets out before a heavy snapping of branch and brush causes him to look surprised. He quickly motions for Dextera to be quiet, and then he turns to peer around the tree.
A good bit of snares are made to kill the animal immediately, as most hunters don't wait for the trap to be set off. It gives the animal some mercy, a quick death. This one, though, just captures.
The thing looks kind of like a goat, in a way, and both back legs are pinned together to keep it from bouncing off. Whatever it is sounds horrendous; even if it starts as bleating, the end dwindles into something of a whistling song. A bird, maybe. The wings aren't huge, but they're there.
Damian stands and heads out from behind the tree, but he doesn't press forward. His voice is low.] Are you ready? [He glances at Dextera.]
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…
[ dextera easily settles into “position,” forgetting their conversation nearly instantaneously when they’re faced with what they came here to do. he’s still nervous. he’s sure he’s going to kill it, and then—maybe it would be a waste to just leave it there. he’s not going to think about it until it’s done. he nods, and pulls himself up to full height next to damian. ]
Stand back.
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I'm going to jump in if anything happens. If something goes wrong, look me in the face, and I'll know.
[He doesn't care what it is, he'll be leaping head-first in to grab, or punch, or kick Dextera out of the way.]
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still, they came here with a mission. he inhales deeply, and lays his hand on the goat’s forehead. as with damian, during the werewolves, his hands begin to glow with a holy light that is well and terribly familiar to dextera by now. he’s used his purification in small and even mundane ways, on things that weren’t living or things he knew wouldn’t die from it, but this time…
he swallows, and pushes the light into the animal’s body completely. it writhes, letting out that terrible sound again, and then that sound seems to split in two. there’s the goat’s bleating, nearly crying, accompanied by the dying breath of a bird, until the latter snuffs out entirely. ]
…
[ dextera closes his eyes at that particular juncture, so he misses what happens when the light fades: there is a perfectly normal goat, unsteady and colorless, standing next to a pile of tiny parts, most noticeably, what was likely once the wing of a living creature. there are some light green feathers stained in blood, and a few bones at odd angles. ]
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But as Dextera approaches the hybrid thing, Damian feels a twang of discomfort. Sure, this worked on him as a werewolf. Technically, he was two different things? But he was half human and half animal, not half animal and half animal.
Maybe this won't work after all. Dextera will purify so heavily it'll just obliterate it from existence because it maybe shouldn't have existed at all.
But things go (somewhat) better than expected. His wince against the awful cries softens, and he lowers the hand that had risen to begin to shield his face from the light. Oh. That's... definitely a goat noise. He steps forward, once, twice, then closes the distance.
It's... a goat!
And there's... some... parts of... a bird. Oh no.] It's--alive. You split them.
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[ that can’t be right. dextera looks to damian, first, turning his head toward the sound of a voice. he doesn’t want to see what he’s done, but… it turned out all right? he split them? he lets himself look back at the fruits of his labor. the goat stumbles a little, just from standing, as if it were a newborn.
he doesn’t see the “other” animal right away, but he knows that there must be two for the goat-creature to have had wings in the first place—oh.
he winces. he should be happy at the success, but there’s also… ]
One is alive.
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[...Yeah. The goat is... cute? At least they got a goat, even if colorless and fragile.
Carefully, Damian squats down beside Dextera and reaches out to, timidly at first, pet the goat along the back to make sure... He doesn't know. It's real? It's okay? It bleats loudly and suddenly at him, and he's actually startled by how his hand jerks back.
Oh. It was just crying.] One is better than nothing. You... [He glances at Dextera, likewise feeling somewhat guilty about the bird.] You did it.
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he stops his breath in his lungs, forcing himself away from that train of thought. it’s not a bad one to pursue, but not now. he and his brother were not mutated animals begging to be split apart. ]
…
[ he looks down at his own hands, frowning, before he answers damian a few moments later. ]
I should… be able… to do better.
[ and yet? the goat is cute. dextera remembers as well that the animals did not necessarily enjoy being spliced together—two sets of instincts weren’t always compatible. in the end, even if they lost the bird, this is the more humane form. ]
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With time, you might be able to purify and splice two, saving both. [Poor bird, though.] We'll say something for the bird. [For a moment or two, he doesn't say anything, but seems thoughtful. Then, quietly:] "Where eternal luster glows, the realm in which the light divine is set, place me, Purifier, in that deathless, imperishable world.
"Make me immortal in that realm where movement is accordant to wish, in the third region, the third heaven of heavens, where the worlds are resplendent." [He looks back up at Dextera as if to say,
?]
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A Vedic hymn.
[ he didn’t study only abrahamic religions, after all. ]
Thank you.
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People in the areas around were Hindu. [So Damian is more of a Muslim, Hindu, Buddhist boy, if anything. Not that he's religious.
With the utmost gentleness, Damian reaches out again to pat the goat on the shoulder. It's not a baby, though seems to be female with a cute, fat middle and spindly legs and dorky eyes.] What do you want to name it?
I think it's a "she." We can get milk from her.
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…you choose.
[ dextera is afraid to touch the goat again, but he’d like to. it’s clear in his eyes that he wants to pet her. ]
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He straightens to his full height and moves to stand by the goat's side, letting his legs be a kind of brace if needed.] You can pet her. [In indication, he rubs the bumpy crest of her skull between the ears. She bleats.] You won't hurt her.
And she won't hurt you. [Palm up, he extends his hand toward Dextera, offering to take his--he knows what it's like to have violent hands, but wanting them to offer something soft. They can pet her together.]
Capra.
No. [That's not right either. Not quite.] Capella. That'll be her name.
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