The fire in the inn room roared, though the crackling flames did little to dispel the chill she felt.
Neither did the bottle of Brandy, now laying half empty at her side.
The Inquisition.
She had thought time and events had allowed her to overcome her fears, that her involvement with the Inquisitor Xanadu had somehow cut the chains of fear. She had been wrong.
It had only taken one imperious look from the Inquisitor and his guards to make her feel as a she had been then. Afraid, broken, guilty.
Guilty… guilty of course. The Inquisition never target the innocent you see, Halone guides their vision.
And their knives.
The burgeoning riot in the Brume had been a simple thing, only a few rocks and hard words exchanged, dispelled by the grit of the Dragoon V’aleera as well as her own Alchemical devices. No the speech and the riot were not as frightening as the aftermath. The fat Inquisitor in his rich robes, pointing a finger at the group.
“I’ll have them all.â€
Have.
The bold arrogance of those with power.
If it had not been for the impassioned words of a pair of Miqo’te, she would be in chains now, screaming out heresies real and imagined just to avoid the next kiss of the torturer’s iron. Evangeline shudders as bile rises to her throat, and resists the urge to vomit fine brandy onto the stone floor
Yes, thanks to the pair of well dressed women, the Inquisitors were dissuaded, a sight she doubted she would ever see again. Even Inquisitors had hearts though, and the women’s words touched theirs, if only for a time.
The naked truth remained, this cult… this worship of Drilltooth. It was doing nothing but grow. The question remained, the question that was left unanswered that night. The question that must be answered before soon.
Should she let the cult be, and see Ishgard torn apart from below?
Or assist the Inquisition, and see it torn apart from above?
Evangeline hugs her knees to her chest as the flames crackle. Either way, someone would burn.
Neither did the bottle of Brandy, now laying half empty at her side.
The Inquisition.
She had thought time and events had allowed her to overcome her fears, that her involvement with the Inquisitor Xanadu had somehow cut the chains of fear. She had been wrong.
It had only taken one imperious look from the Inquisitor and his guards to make her feel as a she had been then. Afraid, broken, guilty.
Guilty… guilty of course. The Inquisition never target the innocent you see, Halone guides their vision.
And their knives.
The burgeoning riot in the Brume had been a simple thing, only a few rocks and hard words exchanged, dispelled by the grit of the Dragoon V’aleera as well as her own Alchemical devices. No the speech and the riot were not as frightening as the aftermath. The fat Inquisitor in his rich robes, pointing a finger at the group.
“I’ll have them all.â€
Have.
The bold arrogance of those with power.
If it had not been for the impassioned words of a pair of Miqo’te, she would be in chains now, screaming out heresies real and imagined just to avoid the next kiss of the torturer’s iron. Evangeline shudders as bile rises to her throat, and resists the urge to vomit fine brandy onto the stone floor
Yes, thanks to the pair of well dressed women, the Inquisitors were dissuaded, a sight she doubted she would ever see again. Even Inquisitors had hearts though, and the women’s words touched theirs, if only for a time.
The naked truth remained, this cult… this worship of Drilltooth. It was doing nothing but grow. The question remained, the question that was left unanswered that night. The question that must be answered before soon.
Should she let the cult be, and see Ishgard torn apart from below?
Or assist the Inquisition, and see it torn apart from above?
Evangeline hugs her knees to her chest as the flames crackle. Either way, someone would burn.
![[Image: yr2A1Eo.png]](http://i.imgur.com/yr2A1Eo.png)
