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Feeling Normal About the Beasts Again
God, I love the Beasts. Wretched little creatures. Fallen angels who have been abandoned by God. Objectified at every turn as solely their duty, even by one of their own — being called Beasts when they fail at their job. Presumably having very little contact with each other (or Silent Salt would have known more of their plights), leaving each individual Virtue feeling isolated and uniquely broken. And then, their bodies are shattered.
Holy emissaries filled with so much pain that they'll destroy what they were made to protect.
Holy emissaries filled with so much pain that they'll destroy what they were made to protect.