The Gardens (Cassius)

You think like you have never felt so clear before. But with clarity comes remorse. So many people, dead in your service, in vain.

Reaching out, you grip your little doctor's fucked silly form in your arms tightly, carrying her to your bed, pulling the covers over her slowly heaving curves. Striding out the chamber and into the night, you swiftly pull on a plain mantle.

Surely, **** fighting his foes was all a servant to the throne could wish for. But what had been achieved by it?

Silence lies above the Convent as you walk the faintly cobbled path into the Garden. The midnight service has just passed and no soul crosses your path.

"I did not even bother with warning anyone about a possible eldar attack", you think, "but what is to expect off someone who can't even see beyond his own girls Charades. What kind of Inquisitor am I?"

You come to stand before a small pond, the planet's twin moons mirroring on the surface. You loom over the shore. The same gaunt face as always, only a thin line on the left side where some surgeon had knitted new skin to your face.

The same surgeon who had rode your cock two moments before.

Your fingers trail the scar on your cheek. Now you are truly wearing a deception, you think. Anna had burned your face from your skull, forcing you to wear something artificial. A Mask. A new Mask, you correct yourself.

Antoinette had seen beyond it, maybe it was fitting to start anew with someone like her. But to start what? You had just seen thousands of people to their deaths because....

Water splashes over your bare feet as a frog takes a dive.

You are surprised by the thought, but you miss Ri'ven dearly. His straight headed puritanism and his ever stubborn refuse to see any situtation pessimistic would be most welcome now. But Ri'ven's carcass was tumbling into some star, light years away.

You gaze up to the stars. Where Anna is? Maybe pursuing the Eldar. The Eldar. Kaelone. Another case without closure. Involuntarily, you think about your 'interrogation', the debauchery you shared.

The hair above your arms erect and you shudder. With sudden urge, you kneel down and wash your hands in the cold water of the pond. The frog flees outraged.

You raise your fist to your face, the cold water rinning down your forearm, trickling on your mantle.

"Katja. Tanja. I will make amends. You will not have died for nothing. I swear it."

Slowly, you straighten yourself, returning to your chamber. Inside you notice Antoinette has curled together on your bed, sleeping peacefully. After some hesitation, you lie down beneath her, pulling the covers over you both, laying one arm over her form, pulling her to your chest possesively.

Yours

Sleep takes you.