(Untitled)

[plaga_priest]

Abandoned skyscrapers are silent masses in the night, blocking the light of the stars. The glittering, faceted dome of Karma City rises in the distance. It looks like the streets are crowded with people?...No...statuesWith a popping noise, two figures materialize in the darkness. Followed by silence

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[8th_castellan]

He falls to the ground in a heap, coughing and clutching his own neck, tears still streaming down his face.

Even the Plaga shock wasn't as painful as what Lord Saddler was saying. Those words cut to the bone, hitting every little insecurity Ramon's ever had since he began trying for redemption. Trying to fit in a world and society where something like him just didn't belong.

"...I-...I...M-My f-friends...Th-They l-love me...Hi-Hippolyta loves me...N-Not fuh-false..."

His attempts to deny Saddler are cut off, though, both because of his coughing and because, really, he couldn't find any way to even begin to refute that statement that everyone around him found him loathsome. It showed in the people who were disgusted that he and Hippolyta were involved. How everyone sneered in revulsion whenever 'Las Plagas' was mentioned. How he was hated for being something that ate humans. People who always laughed or gagged at his appearances and species. He was just a repulsive clown to the Nexus and all the people in it, when you came right down to it.

[plaga_priest]

"Ha, ha! You speak with such confidence, Ramon!" he says, with a sarcastic bite to his tone.

"You're nothing but a wolf in sheep's clothing. You were given a gift, Ramon -- a new existence as a higher organism -- and you wasted it. You've even tried to find ways to ignore what you are, so the humans aren't threatened! How funny!"

He throws his head back and laughs. The sound echoes off of the faces of the surrounding buildings to fill the area with his cruel mirth.

"No one cares for you, Ramon. Never has. Not me. Not your 'friends'. Can you imagine loving the lowliest maggot in a garbge heap? Because that's what you are: unworthy of anything but the deepest disgust."

[8th_castellan]

Ramon can't even look up at Saddler now. His vision blurs as he hangs his head, his tears falling onto the dusty ground to form small, dark dots.

Being dead is preferable to this. Saddler knows all of his insecurities and fears, he's using their connection to strike directly at them. And part of him, that small, fledgling portion of his mind that Hippolyta had sown in him from her urging to rebel against his cult and master, tells him that Saddler's just lying to indeed upset him.

But it's never a good idea to underestimate the power that is Ramon hearing any opinion from Lord Osmund Saddler. Because he's been groomed and well-trained to accept those as facts.

As such, he can't even respond. All he can do is curl in on himself, covering his face with his hands again, his sobbing hitching when he begins to groan sadly. And that groan slowly grows in volume until he's wailing mournfully, his sorrow echoing back mockingly from around the petrified courtyard.