[private] what do you have to live for

[sleaze]

I’ll worship like a dog at the shrine of your lies
tell you my sins so you can sharpen your knife

“Yes,” he says, “it was.”
He had had no choice, had he? From the moment the chains shackled around his ankles, he’d been forced into that world and everything that happened after. But maybe there’d been a certain horrible comfort to it, to how he had been guided through the world, even if there were many horrible things within in. Even if it ended in his death – or not-death, because he was here, wasn’t he?
Awful was everything after, how he felt madness gnawing at him like a beast, how he couldn’t control his ability, touching their minds when he had no wont to.
It’s better now, isn’t it? Better because time has smeared his memories, and Sleaze shows no signs of the ability he was left with.

He listens to the next questions, and thinks. What feelings does he harbor for the trickster, exactly? Sleaze is not a hateful man – he’s like his father, in that way – and it has never really occurred to him to blame the trickster for all this. It’s much easier to blame himself, or to blame nothing at him, and assume this is the existence he is meant for.
“I don’t think I ever really blamed him,” he says, shrugging, “it wasn’t malice that put me there, for him. It was just…something to do.”
That it was just such a whim might be worse than malice, but such a thought does not occur to him.
“You keep asking about forgiveness,” he says, “who do you need to forgive?”

Sleaze

@[Agetta]