bittybat | (no subject)

You say that as if killing and hunting are mutually exclusive.

[The look he gives Dextera from the side is strange and unreadable.]

Hmm.

[ 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.

[They seem to be okay with the trap. Nothing spooky has decided to spooky them yet.]

What were they? Animals? [Wait. Dextera is like "an apostle"?] ...People?

[ sometimes you gotta eat people ]

…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. ]

[DEX NO]

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 shakes his head. ]

I hope these animals are just that.

[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.

You... recycled their physical body.

?

[ 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. ]

Sounds efficient. I’ll take it. Thank you.

[Dextera is a tragic mess.]

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. ]

Stand back.

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… ]

One is alive.

Yeah.

[...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. ]

Thank you.

[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?

I think it's a "she." We can get milk from her.

[ 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.

[ this one, he doesn’t know. dextera hadn’t ever seen—or at least, couldn’t recall—stars before he came to this town, but he understands that the name must have some significance. he pauses, considering the sound of it in his own voice, in his head, and nods. ]

What does it mean?

[ he asks this, and then places his hand in damian’s. he wants to pet the goat. he wants to learn her name. his brother asked him to name him, too, and if he can do it as sweetly and certainly as this moment, he thinks his brother will be happy. ]

It's a star in a constellation. [Dextera's hand gets a small, reassuring squeeze, and then he pulls it to place the palm against the goat's neck with his on top. After a moment, he removes his hand so Dextera can pet her like he wants.] It means "little goat."

[See? The goat is fine. IT'S FINE. Don't look at the bird parts... The goat is fine, at least.]

In Greek myth, it represents Amalthea, the goat that nursed Zeus. He broke her horn, and it became the Cornucopia. [She has little horns, see?] The horn would fill up with whatever the owner desires.

[ hmmm.

dextera slowly allows himself to stroke along her thin, wiry fur, and it’s true enough. the goat is fine, even if she seems a little impatient the longer they force her to stand here. as she recovers from the dizziness of being separated, so does her energy recover inside her.

he brushes his thumb, very lightly, over one of the her horns. she bleats at him. ]

…and what do you desire?

[For some time, Damian doesn’t answer the question. He watches Dextera pet the goat instead. Even standing in the remnants of destruction, the goat is pure and beautiful. He loves her.

And he’s glad Dextera gets to see this good part of it.] I don’t think what I desire could fill the Cornucopia. It’s not sometthing that could “fill” anything. You can’t see it.

Well, you can see it technically, but it isn’t material.