Sometimes, death was gentle with her. Painless, almost peaceful.
The way she cradled these wayward fading souls, it was almost motherly. Holding their bones in her claws, their crimson life dripping down to stain the ground at her feet. She didn’t seem to mind the mess, all she seemed to care about was the moment.
The moment when they took their last breath, unaware it was their last, before their bodies fell limp, surrendering completely to her hands. Calm. Content. Perhaps even happy in their final seconds. Even though they were cradled in a predator’s jaws.
Not that they knew she was a predator. Or maybe they did, and just didn’t care. After all, why would the dying bother to be fearful of a killer?
It’s only in these moments where I can almost believe she is capable of kindness. Of goodness. That I might have something to show people. See! I would say. There is a part of her that is kind and soft and loving. This is who she really is. She is not an unredeemable murderer. More than a destroyer. That I could lay all the horrors, all the blood stained across her skin and soul, all the destruction she had committed — at her Master’s feet. See! It is not really her fault. It is the Dark God’s.
That I could say with confidence that she is not beyond redemption. Not beyond forgiveness. That if she could be severed from her Master, that she could be good. That if she could be removed from the darkness, she could be as wonderful as an angel.
But that would all be a lie. A comforting lie, but a lie none-the-less.
That softness is only a fraction of her personality. That gentleness she offers, those smiles and sweet words she offers to the mortals who fall on her Master’s orders, they are only a small part of who she is. It is not something she could devote herself to completely. It is not who she really is.
Still, I watch silently as she goes about, sprinkling her kindness. I savor these moments of peace and calm amidst the pain and bloodshed. These moments where we can lay down our weapons and sit together. Where we can pretend that she can be better than a herald to her Dark God. That she can be more than a monster I have been made to oppose.