(--)
Ithiel is by me!
Ángel spoke of humanity, and Ithiel found himself agreeing. Surely, there were believers and faithful among the millions of dead. They had not all been sinners, but they had all needed to pay up for their follies and complications of the world. On the other hand, the dusky-hued hybrid found he could not agree with the dark coyote about the past. There was nothing regretted or shameful in Ithiel's past -- he'd been a good son, a better trainee, and a world-class soldier in the ranks of Scintilla before his second birthday. Nothing needed changing, in his view -- but Ithiel decided it was best not to share that.
It is their place to serve and follow. Eve proved the woe a woman can bring on the world when she steps outside of her place. The dusky hybrid shook his head, reaching up to scratch gently beeswax-stiffened hair to relieve an itch. Scintilla had a church. Magnificent, all of them -- from the smallest chapel to the most grand churches, they are all places of faith and worship. He'd seen derelict churches, but even they seemed to hold some power, still. Inferni ought to have a church, he mused, twitching his shoulders in a shrug. They had no buildings to spare for such an adventure, and Myrika would call it folly to waste their time on such when they might build stables and useful structures instead.
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