Post by Dionysus on Jan 17, 2021 23:34:54 GMT -5
How appropriate that the sisters of fate and doubt no longer linger here. The mind has been made clear. What remains is the reconstruction of the man who once was. |
"Credo in unum Deum, Patrem omnipotentem, factorem cæli et terræ, visibilium omnium et invisibilium." In one God, you say? Why, it is quite nice for the Credo to already contradict itself by the first stanza. Then again, what we see here only represents the continued hypocrisy of the church as it struggles to maintain a hold of the masses wishing for the life after this. And yet, it is these words that hold them to a higher standard than their fellow man. It is this Credo that you easily prey on, is it not, Mr. Bathory?
Yes, those that follow a particular path, or creed, may see you as a tangible threat. Imposing figure, impressive resume, a woman to help keep you grounded...all things that have come and passed through these halls. I'm fairly certain, if you ask the management nicely, they will give you that character template straight from the Microsoft Word database. Yes, not one week since handling the former man made god, I return to the beginning to sort out the dregs, starting with what I can only lovingly describe as a Dollar Store Walter that has been knocked down to final clearance.
Tell me, Mr. Bathory; what makes your hunger for sin any different from those here who have committed their own sins? Are you in pursuit of exacting your own brand of dark justice on those who wrong others? Or are you simply wanting to revel in the delight that is the darkness? Well, revel away, for while you reside within that realm of sin, remember who is the one that pays to keep the lights on. You see, playing within darkness can, in fact, be dangerous enough to warrant caution, but you don't strike me as the cautious type. No, like a wild bull in a china shop, you hold nothing back in the destruction you wish to cause. No focus, no drive, no common goal; just you, your woman, the one that stands before you, and the sins that they lay bare.
Well, there simply won't be any hiding from you of my dark deeds, now will there? I must confess and come clean. If I feed you now, you will only spoil your appetite; that should give me the edge, no?
So here it is, my deep, dark secret that I have kept from absolutely everyone.
I am a liar.
...
...
I'm not a natural red head.
...
...
Phew; weight off my shoulders. With that out of the way, your power wanes.
...Or...will it? Perhaps my lie about my natural hair color is, in fact, the sin.
So tell me, Byron, just HOW do you know whether the sins you crave are worthy of your appetite or not? Must they be like devil's food cake, with a sweetened core and an overall moist texture? Or more akin to a filet mignon, savory to the last tender bite? ...I would wager in your case, your taste for sins are more akin to a White Castle Crave Crate; minor problems people handle on the regular, but enough to make you satisfied...at least until you expel them the next day, if you're lucky. Put simply, Byron, nothing you can say will ever intimidate me into believing you truly are after the sins of Action Wrestling; you would simply be full before the first bell even rang.
So perhaps your hunger is not one of actual sin, but of real devastation, and the eating of sin is the flimsy justification. It is alright, Byron; you can fully admit that you have a fetish for pain, whether inflicting on others or being inflicted upon. No kink shame, I promise; I simply think that your Dutchess knows her way around a cat-o-nine-tails and candle wax, and that you seem to enjoy it. Look upon me, the master of revels; you think I don't get freaky when the cause calls for it?
By the way, my dear Lady Envy, you must have a tireless and thankless job. I would applaud you if it weren't for the fact that you have chosen to align yourself with a cardboard cutout of a man. Should you ever need to seek another for *ahem* business reasons, be sure to accept my card. I'm sure I could find a position for you. You decide what that means.
Now Byron, would a statement like that make your blood boil? Would she even accept such an offer? Probably not; after all, we only just met. We may not even be compatible. And yet, such an offer was struck. Why? Because I wish it. The chaos that I live in is one of simply doing whatever pleases me. I am the end result of years of discovering my ever-shifting nature, while you are the fresh blueprint waiting for the revisions to be made.
So allow me to make said revisions. Every bruise will be an erasure, every cut a correction. I will chisel you down and shave you away, until the true essence of Byron Bathory remains; the husk of a man who needed more time to discover who he truly is. Do not think of me as a target, nor as a victim; no, think of me as your humble teacher, ready to properly instruct you.
And if needed...
...discipline.
Yes, those that follow a particular path, or creed, may see you as a tangible threat. Imposing figure, impressive resume, a woman to help keep you grounded...all things that have come and passed through these halls. I'm fairly certain, if you ask the management nicely, they will give you that character template straight from the Microsoft Word database. Yes, not one week since handling the former man made god, I return to the beginning to sort out the dregs, starting with what I can only lovingly describe as a Dollar Store Walter that has been knocked down to final clearance.
Tell me, Mr. Bathory; what makes your hunger for sin any different from those here who have committed their own sins? Are you in pursuit of exacting your own brand of dark justice on those who wrong others? Or are you simply wanting to revel in the delight that is the darkness? Well, revel away, for while you reside within that realm of sin, remember who is the one that pays to keep the lights on. You see, playing within darkness can, in fact, be dangerous enough to warrant caution, but you don't strike me as the cautious type. No, like a wild bull in a china shop, you hold nothing back in the destruction you wish to cause. No focus, no drive, no common goal; just you, your woman, the one that stands before you, and the sins that they lay bare.
Well, there simply won't be any hiding from you of my dark deeds, now will there? I must confess and come clean. If I feed you now, you will only spoil your appetite; that should give me the edge, no?
So here it is, my deep, dark secret that I have kept from absolutely everyone.
I am a liar.
...
...
I'm not a natural red head.
...
...
Phew; weight off my shoulders. With that out of the way, your power wanes.
...Or...will it? Perhaps my lie about my natural hair color is, in fact, the sin.
So tell me, Byron, just HOW do you know whether the sins you crave are worthy of your appetite or not? Must they be like devil's food cake, with a sweetened core and an overall moist texture? Or more akin to a filet mignon, savory to the last tender bite? ...I would wager in your case, your taste for sins are more akin to a White Castle Crave Crate; minor problems people handle on the regular, but enough to make you satisfied...at least until you expel them the next day, if you're lucky. Put simply, Byron, nothing you can say will ever intimidate me into believing you truly are after the sins of Action Wrestling; you would simply be full before the first bell even rang.
So perhaps your hunger is not one of actual sin, but of real devastation, and the eating of sin is the flimsy justification. It is alright, Byron; you can fully admit that you have a fetish for pain, whether inflicting on others or being inflicted upon. No kink shame, I promise; I simply think that your Dutchess knows her way around a cat-o-nine-tails and candle wax, and that you seem to enjoy it. Look upon me, the master of revels; you think I don't get freaky when the cause calls for it?
By the way, my dear Lady Envy, you must have a tireless and thankless job. I would applaud you if it weren't for the fact that you have chosen to align yourself with a cardboard cutout of a man. Should you ever need to seek another for *ahem* business reasons, be sure to accept my card. I'm sure I could find a position for you. You decide what that means.
Now Byron, would a statement like that make your blood boil? Would she even accept such an offer? Probably not; after all, we only just met. We may not even be compatible. And yet, such an offer was struck. Why? Because I wish it. The chaos that I live in is one of simply doing whatever pleases me. I am the end result of years of discovering my ever-shifting nature, while you are the fresh blueprint waiting for the revisions to be made.
So allow me to make said revisions. Every bruise will be an erasure, every cut a correction. I will chisel you down and shave you away, until the true essence of Byron Bathory remains; the husk of a man who needed more time to discover who he truly is. Do not think of me as a target, nor as a victim; no, think of me as your humble teacher, ready to properly instruct you.
And if needed...
...discipline.