[Carlisle falls silent, staring at his skeletal hands. Many images and incidents from Anchor alone come to mind as he considers the answer: is he a danger, or does he just perceive himself to be?
He thinks of meeting Poison in the baths, of rot spreading all around him as he lost his temper; she backed away from him that day, and wisely so. She knew him before, but neither of them knew who he was then.
As a twice-cursed, Carlisle lived the majority of his life under the perception he was a danger to everyone around him. They were said to be the harbingers of misfortune, a plague on those who would tolerate their existence; their curse would taint the very world around them, as well as those who lived there. People have told him otherwise, but it was always hard to believe anything but the old superstitions when he lost so much. His father died only months after he was cursed, and his uncles vanished years after, leaving him alone. He spent his days in service of his goddess, hoping it would mitigate what he was.
He thinks of the undead swarming Qubit, of how he'd spurred them into action without ever knowing. He recalls the skeletons rising all around them, of how his ignorance of what he was capable of could have ended badly for the technomancer, a man he considers more than a casual acquaintance -- a man who has done nothing but try to help him.
In the end, everything he'd done to preserve his family's legacy and his beloved home hadn't mattered at all. Bear Den was worse because he'd been tolerated, allowed to be despite his affliction. There is nothing left of his town save for the knowledge that he brought it to ruin. The Blight Heir is now as synonymous with Bear Den as the Longinmouths had been, and there's no amount of diligence and duty that can change that.
He thinks of Kieran and Ben being attacked by a monstrous aberration of his own making, the trees around them withering and dying as he draws energy from them; he thinks of Pratt, his friend, the flesh of his hand necrolysing before them both.
It had been mostly perception before, when he was alive. There is no doubt he is a danger now. He loops a finger over the top of his mask, pulling it free of his face and revealing the creature beneath.]
I have proven to be little else in my time here. I have created monsters and set them upon people who did nothing more than rile my temper. I have injured a man who was my friend, decaying his very flesh with the necrotic energy that festers within me. I am a blight upon this place, and I wonder now if I have been my entire life. Did I lie to myself this entire time, thinking I would do good if given the chance? That I would- that I would make my family proud despite everything? Is this all I survived for? All I am now?
no subject
He thinks of meeting Poison in the baths, of rot spreading all around him as he lost his temper; she backed away from him that day, and wisely so. She knew him before, but neither of them knew who he was then.
As a twice-cursed, Carlisle lived the majority of his life under the perception he was a danger to everyone around him. They were said to be the harbingers of misfortune, a plague on those who would tolerate their existence; their curse would taint the very world around them, as well as those who lived there. People have told him otherwise, but it was always hard to believe anything but the old superstitions when he lost so much. His father died only months after he was cursed, and his uncles vanished years after, leaving him alone. He spent his days in service of his goddess, hoping it would mitigate what he was.
He thinks of the undead swarming Qubit, of how he'd spurred them into action without ever knowing. He recalls the skeletons rising all around them, of how his ignorance of what he was capable of could have ended badly for the technomancer, a man he considers more than a casual acquaintance -- a man who has done nothing but try to help him.
In the end, everything he'd done to preserve his family's legacy and his beloved home hadn't mattered at all. Bear Den was worse because he'd been tolerated, allowed to be despite his affliction. There is nothing left of his town save for the knowledge that he brought it to ruin. The Blight Heir is now as synonymous with Bear Den as the Longinmouths had been, and there's no amount of diligence and duty that can change that.
He thinks of Kieran and Ben being attacked by a monstrous aberration of his own making, the trees around them withering and dying as he draws energy from them; he thinks of Pratt, his friend, the flesh of his hand necrolysing before them both.
It had been mostly perception before, when he was alive. There is no doubt he is a danger now. He loops a finger over the top of his mask, pulling it free of his face and revealing the creature beneath.]
I have proven to be little else in my time here. I have created monsters and set them upon people who did nothing more than rile my temper. I have injured a man who was my friend, decaying his very flesh with the necrotic energy that festers within me. I am a blight upon this place, and I wonder now if I have been my entire life. Did I lie to myself this entire time, thinking I would do good if given the chance? That I would- that I would make my family proud despite everything? Is this all I survived for? All I am now?