#but quin's not doing anything disruptive really and he's just as confused

[leaffiii]

they barely tolerate each other

[olivia-lovecraft]

New Chapter: Confession

Olivia has a secret, one she has kept from most who know her only in passing. It is a secret she kept from her captors, and one that made sleep a distant memory. When she closed her eyes, she could see the tattered fabric of her soul being billowing pathetically on her every shallow breath. The half soul which she held dearly within her cried out for its completion, but not in the way Alice’s soul sang for Quin’s. Olivia had torn her own soul in two in her youthful hubris. She had tried to cheat death and lost, only narrowly escaping with her life. Now, Arcasius, a dark custodian from beyond, acts as a tether between the stony tomb of one half, and the tattered pieces within her.

What would happen if that bond were to be severed?

It was a fear she realized upon meeting Quin. His touch could nullify magic and, as she did not understand the nature of her bond to Arcasius, she assumed his touch would be her undoing. However, when Anna-Marie and her cohorts arrived to take Olivia to her ‘confession,’ when they forced her into the shackles intended to drain her of the energy and intent, she found the bond remained intact. She sobbed with relief as they put the hood over her head and could do little more than repeat a soft prayer of gratitude to whomever heard her.

The brutish trio led Olivia through the winding halls of the prison, doubling back at times to confuse their prisoner. When at last they arrived at inquisitor’s gallery, they shoved her hard into a chair and left laughing. In their wake, silence descended. She felt the presence of no others. There was only a bright light warming the right side of her hooded face and an eerie stillness in the air.

“Hello?” She tested softly, but there was no answer aside from the faint echo from the corners of the room.

The choking quiet became her only companion, its phantom fingers touching and corrupting her memories to conjure terrible what-ifs in the darkness of the hood.

What if this was her execution?

What if the promise of confession was a lie?

What if she was truly still in Kul’Tiras and the Priests in Red were sending her friends away again?

What if…

Olivia’s whimpering sob cut through the silence and disrupted the train of dark thoughts.

“Finally afraid, witch?”

Bishop Rothtide’s voice rumbled from somewhere behind Olivia. She sat with sudden rigid posture and listened for the approaching footsteps.

But they didn’t come.

“Are you going to kill me?” She asked, sounding more brave than defiant to her own surprise.

“Eventually,” he replied from his corner of the room. “However, not today. Inquisitor Stiles had business elsewhere and I promised we wouldn’t mar your pretty skin until he returns.”

“Bishop, was it?” Olivia asked disdainfully. “I’m sorry. You just don’t sound like a bishop to me.”

A heavy sigh from the man preceded his long strides towards her. As he passed her chair, he roughly pulled the hood free, yanking a half handful of hair along with it. He continued his arc until he turned to stand in front of her. When she had first met him, he was dressed in armor and a tabard bearing his order’s seal. Now, however, he was dressed in a suit and tie.

He made a show of removing a bracelet from his wrist and unfastening the buttons of his jacket before taking it off. He laid them out reverently on a nearby table before setting to work on the cufflinks.

“I don’t expect you to know what you are talking about, witch,” he replied coolly, as if she may have struck a chord. “My title was granted to me by this Order. It is a mantle I had to take up as a young man, not long after Silver Dawn Sanitarium was burned down. Do you remember the Sanitarium? You were a patient there, Ms. Little. Excuse me, Lovecraft. Lovecraft is the name we will be using when we take you to trial.”

He rolled up his sleeves and turned finally to stare coldly at her, a smirk twitching at the edge of his lips. It was the look of a man daring his adversary to speak or act out. It was the overconfident look of a man who knew he had the upper hand. However, Olivia met his stare with a perfect reflection of that faith.

“Is that what I’m to confess to? Shall I confess that men in your order held me down and branded my back and chest before hauling me off to that place? Did all the records go up in flames as well?”

Anger simmered dangerously behind his pale blue stare, but there was a hint of shock to him. They had been giving her filthy water and poor rations for an entire week. They had been psychologically tormenting her. Yet, the woman sitting before him seemed to have some secret source of confidence.

“No,” the bishop huffed, masking his surprise with weak amusement. “No, I originally thought I may be virtuous enough to hear an actual confession from you, one from which I could grant you absolution before you are tried, hanged, and burned as a witch.”

It was Olivia’s turn to falter, his wording sending a shiver through her.

“Oh? Are you experiencing a crisis of faith, Bishop?” Olivia asked, though her confidence had deflated some.

“No. More like…succumbing to the righteous fury within me,” he growled as he moved to stand directly in front of her, his hands rolling into fists. “You see, I lost a lot of people this spring because of you. Decent champions of the Light were trapped in that cathedral. Our order doesn’t demand us to be forgiving, but I had hoped I would be the person to hear the remorse bleeding from your wretched lips. Now, though, as I look at you, I know I cannot offer you such a thing.”

Olivia opened her mouth to respond, to chide him for his lack of will, but his hand closed around her throat before the words formed. He lifted her from the chair and kicked it back before pulling his other fist back.

“I can, however, show you the Light’s wrath, which is reserved for those who corrupt and kill its champions,” he snarled as he punched her roughly in the face while letting her go.

The force of the hit sent Olivia staggering back. Without the ability to move properly and balance herself out, she fell backwards. Worse still, without her arms to catch her, she wound up hitting her had solidly on the filthy bricks. The world blurred at the edges and black speckles crackled through her remaining field of vision.

“What happened to not wanting to ‘mar my pretty skin?” Olivia slurred as she struggled to stay conscious.

“Inquisitor Stiles will have to forgive me,” the bishop scoffed.

Olivia braced for him to descend upon her. She was ready for him to deliver physical punishment. She had prepared herself in the silent dark for the tactics she knew they used years before.

Alas, that pain didn’t come.

Instead, there was a brilliant flash of light followed by an immediate biting burn across her cheek. It was akin to being licked by the end of an uncontrolled whip, but she felt no blood in its wake. Whimpering in her shock, Olivia looked up at the still bleary Bishop Rothtide.

His hands were aflame with the Light.

Olivia could hardly believe the silhouettes of what she saw. Was the Light really on that monster’s side?

“Good. It hurts,” he laughed. “That, of course, was just a match to a pyre. Before our session is done, you’ll know what it is going to feel like when we toss your body on a fire in Drustvar.”

Olivia opened her mouth to speak. She wanted to curse him or shout in defiance, anything to keep from taking his beatings silently. Before she could, though, she was engulfed in holy flames. The only sound that left her were the wailing shrieks of agony.

When Olivia finally succumbed to the pain and passed out for the last time, Bishop Rothtide healed any wounds he had inflicted and called for Anna-Marie to collect the broken remains of the unconscious woman.

“No food or water. No light and make sure there is no sound. She will burn for a bit longer, but the effects will heal themselves,” he explained when his student arrived. “I have business elsewhere for the next couple of days just to finish setting her up for the trial in Drustvar. You know how to reach me.”

Anna-Marie bowed and waited for the bishop to leave before picking up Olivia and dragging her back to her cell.