03-21-2014, 09:33 AM
She had blood on her hands. Tehya hadn't anticipated the tight way guilt settled in her chest and hung there like a millstone. To protect and serve the Atharim's cause she would do whatever she deemed necessary; that was a philosophy etched into her very soul, non-negotiable. But now she found herself having to realign the boundary of her own morality, to discover where her limit really lay. The rougarou had been a monster, and irredeemable; she did not regret killing it. The creature had tortured and murdered its victims, and it would have continued to do so until someone put it down. She might not hold it truly accountable for its nature, but it had deserved to die.
No question.
The problem was not the death itself, but the manner in which she had experimented on it. She'd felt the instant its mind had snapped, and in that moment had realised her own potential to grow into something dangerous. Very dangerous. Such self-knowledge seemed a harsh penalty to pay, but regrettably necessary. Tehya considered herself moral. She would not falter to the temptations of power, and she would find a way to neutralise the gods. But she was beginning to comprehend how awfully dark a path she might have to take in order to accomplish her goals, even armed with the best of intentions.
Such contemplations burned in the back of her mind but were not the sole focus of her thoughts during this lull between destinations. No snow marred the currently deserted subway station, underground as it was, but it was cold. Tehya's clothes were non-descript; a black coat, a scarf tied up to her neck, jeans tucked into serviceable boots. Her black hair was tied simply at the nape of her neck, hanging in a tail to the tops of her shoulder blades. No make-up softened her face. Tall for a woman, and bold-featured, she was used to the wide berth of strangers. Of course the set of her expression was habitually serious, usually because the intensity of her thoughts were set to serious matters. Right now her hands were thrust in her pockets, and she just looked mildly irritated to be waiting for the metro. A screen overhead counted an estimation of time until the next train, but that's not where her dark gaze was set. She watched the black mouth of the tunnel.
No question.
The problem was not the death itself, but the manner in which she had experimented on it. She'd felt the instant its mind had snapped, and in that moment had realised her own potential to grow into something dangerous. Very dangerous. Such self-knowledge seemed a harsh penalty to pay, but regrettably necessary. Tehya considered herself moral. She would not falter to the temptations of power, and she would find a way to neutralise the gods. But she was beginning to comprehend how awfully dark a path she might have to take in order to accomplish her goals, even armed with the best of intentions.
Such contemplations burned in the back of her mind but were not the sole focus of her thoughts during this lull between destinations. No snow marred the currently deserted subway station, underground as it was, but it was cold. Tehya's clothes were non-descript; a black coat, a scarf tied up to her neck, jeans tucked into serviceable boots. Her black hair was tied simply at the nape of her neck, hanging in a tail to the tops of her shoulder blades. No make-up softened her face. Tall for a woman, and bold-featured, she was used to the wide berth of strangers. Of course the set of her expression was habitually serious, usually because the intensity of her thoughts were set to serious matters. Right now her hands were thrust in her pockets, and she just looked mildly irritated to be waiting for the metro. A screen overhead counted an estimation of time until the next train, but that's not where her dark gaze was set. She watched the black mouth of the tunnel.