I'm getting on fifteen chapters ahead of schedule. I have to slow down or else I lose the flexibility to respond to healthy critiques.

pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq

It was raining hard when we crossed the channel from Match to the Sanus mainland. The vessel was made of metal and water pinged off the tin roof of the boat and the lightning made the horses uneasy. I was told that strong storms were common up here during the spring. Out in the sea it was pouring such that it seemed as though there was as much water above us as below and beside us.

The boat rocked and stirred up my stomach. The waves shook us and my guts turned over and over. I was lucky to hold down my breakfast over the journey. There was a city on the other side of the channel from Gongaga. It was Costa Del Tormenta on the other side. It was decently sized, maybe a few thousand people, and could probably use a hand or two. But we wouldn't be staying. We had to be moving along. So we set ourselves off once we arrived on the far side of the channel and kept heading south. That was where Vale was with our goals. Both Rosé's and mine.

I prepared and sent a letter to my loved ones. I wrote about the role I took on with Rosé. I struggled with it. I never knew what it was like to be as young as Rosé was. Not in any true sense. And she was going through more than she had thought she was asking for. She was becoming a huntress with all that entailed. It was a lot to put on a young girl. Ruby and Weiss would know better than I did how to be a huntress at that age. They had both lived and experienced it. Ruby was in Beacon by fifteen. I could only guess and postulate on the subject. It left me feeling unsure how to communicate with Rosé at times. Despite that I thought she was progressing well with her training. Mastering the blade was only one thing a hunter needed to overcome. They had to gain knowledge of the Grimm. They had to learn to fight and kill people as well as monsters. They had to conquer themselves most importantly. I could help with all but the last one. That Rosé must do on her own.

Not that I was an expert on mastering oneself. Or else I would still be in Atlas with my loved ones. I would be unafraid. I would be strong. I wasn't. I was cowardly and weak in the ways that mattered most. What good was the power to kill people and slay monsters if I couldn't use it? It was nothing but impotent rage. At least with Rosé I was doing something and passing things along. I was helping and genuinely doing good.

It still didn't lessen the weight of my sins. That I killed people and enjoyed it stuck out in my mind as an obvious problem with my mental state. I hurt people. I did it all the time. I even hurt the ones I claimed to love. Being with Rosé made me feel less monstrous. At least in part, I felt like a hero. Like I had dreamed about at Beacon. I wasn't a hero though. Except in an absurd way, perhaps.

I wish I could be the way that Rosé saw me. All of the good and none of the bad. It was unfair. I wrote all of that and my feelings into a bold letter and sent it off to Atlas. At least this time I had some semblance of contact with them. Last time had been rough. I had become an animal. This time I was more grounded. Like I was pinned to the earth. I was able to see myself and the harm I could do and I kept myself in check. I think the letters helped with that. They certainly helped me vent. Not that I wanted for ears. Rosé always listened to me and Neo was the sort you could really talk at. Still these private letters became a refuge for my thoughts and for the deep crisscross feelings I was trying to manage. I wrote a little about my victory over Mother and how she had nothing to threaten me with anymore since I was already a dead man. I had become numb to her torments. The pain center in my brain was broken. I found myself enjoying discomforts when I came across them. They felt good in a sick and twisted way. Anything to feel something intense.

I had heard of people who cut themselves for pleasure. I suppose I was a little like that except I didn't seek it out. I just accepted it as it arrived with welcoming arms. The chill of the rain and wind throbbed pleasantly in time with my heartbeat. I froze and I enjoyed it where the cold burned my flesh. Some wire was crossed. I liked the discomfort. I liked pain. I was twisted in my head.

There was something sick and wrong with me. I was never going to be normal or function correctly. We're products of our environment and my environment was fucked. The way I had been grown, the influences I had been under, all of that served to make me who I was. Those things were absolutely terrible. I couldn't hope for more. I was dying as we rode along. I was dying while I slept. And I was dying as I fought. I was growing more and more sick and I wasn't going to get better. Coming to terms with that was hard. This was the best I'd ever feel again because it was all down hill. And I didn't even feel that great now and it was only going to get worse. That burned me and I found I was unable to enjoy that pain. I didn't get any sick satisfaction out of it like I did the pain in my chest and guts. They were a comfort which kept me pinned neatly in my body. Without those pins and needles I might slip out and away from myself. I couldn't allow that. I had to keep myself together and focused on my missions. Find Merlot. Put a stop to him. Go to Mother. Put a stop to her. Kill my sisters. Then I would be free. I could slip away all I wanted. To the ends of the earth I could leave my body behind and set sail.

But not now. Not yet. Not while there was still work to be done. I couldn't die just yet and I did want to die. To be sure I did want that. I found myself desiring that which I feared. I was still sane. I feared death to a degree. But I wanted it. But then I also feared pain and I still wanted that too.

I was completely crossed up. I was all mixed up in my head and in my heart. I did good to spite my evil nature. The goodness in me only existed due to a rebellious hypocritical aspect of myself. That was it. That was the source of all my good intentions. And killing myself was something I didn't do out of malice as well. It was tearing me up. The paradoxes I was trapped in were enormous and held me firmly in tight clutches. All the good I did was performed out of ill will. That sucked. It hurt. It made my heart ache. At each moment I was certain that I could not stand it any longer. It felt unending even though I knew that it was. Yet it kept on going in a rolling fashion. It went on and on forever. Like a ball going downhill. Eventually I would reach the bottom. Eventually it would all be over and all this bullshit would be someone else's problem. That or nothing at all. I wasn't sure which was better. I think it would be best if I left nothing behind. But there was always something extra hanging on like a split fingernail. Bloody and irritating and always in the way. I hated that. But it was what I wanted to do. I wanted to leave behind something good. I was just afraid that anything I did would be marred by my nature. Was I handling Rosé's training well or was I setting her up to die? I tried to share the wisdom I had gleaned with her and I hoped it would be enough but in my heart I knew that I would fail. I was doomed to failure. It was in my nature. Rosé would not have a long and happy life. I could see her face growing harder and losing its youthful joy. I was to blame for that. It was my fault. I was even doing it on purpose.

I looked over at where she was clenching her jaw. Her expression was tight. Her eyes were withdrawn and they only seemed to be withdrawing more all the time. I was doing this to her. She claimed to want it but I had known what it would entail. She didn't. So was I doing the right thing by showing her the truth of the world? Even as it burned her she persisted that she wanted to keep going and be a huntress. She kept mustering on even though by now she knew what it would take from her. I had known and I had done it anyways. I was guilty of killing her innocence and childhood. I felt it as strongly as any other murder I had ever performed.

All this I pondered as we rode on our horses down a double split trail which could probably handle cars or trucks. It hadn't seen a motor vehicle in a while by the look of the undergrowth.

The rain fell in bucketfuls down on us but Rosé offered no complaint. Neo shuddered in the seat behind me from the seating cold which felt so good and fresh on my skin. I trembled as well but it was in a certain joy at my discomfort. The cold was awful and I wanted more of it. I loved the way it lapped at my skin and with each beat of my heart the tips of my fingers throbbed deliciously. It was so salty and it tasted so good going down. I was loving every minute of it. I felt like I was getting what I deserved. I was guilty. I was guilty damnit. I deserved punishment.

pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq

"Cloud can we stop and make camp? I'm frozen to the bone."

"Yes. Absolutely," I agreed readily, for their sake not mine. I could be burning for all I cared.

I pulled my horse off the muddy tracks and we found a clearing where we could set up tents. We did so, working hard with numb fingers in the blistering rain. When I picked something up and clasped it tight it burned me due to the cold in my hands. My feet tingled delectably and my cheeks were rosy and frigid. I loved it. I loved the rain. I loved the cold. It was exactly what I wanted. I felt myself sopping wet getting cleaned and purified by that chill. It was so good. I laid down the tarp and staked down the tent and I helped Rosé tie off the horses. My fingers fumbled with the leather reins. They were seared through. The nerves burst like little fireworks in my skin.

It would never be enough. Nothing could ever undo the things I had done. I had killed my best friends. I never wanted to hurt the ones I loved the most but I had, and did, and was actively doing so. I needed to burn for that. I needed to be set on fire. This cold wouldn't do. I needed more. So much more. But how to start a fire in such a downpour? How was I supposed to strike a match and set myself ablaze? How could I ever be forgiven? If I trained a hundred huntresses like Rosé and each went on to live happy fulfilling lives, if they each lived for a long time, then it would still not be enough. Nothing I could ever do could unmake the past. My soul to go back and save them. If only I could return to those times and places I had made the most costly mistakes. I wished for more power. No, even that wouldn't help. More strength would do nothing for me. Even with all the strength I had now I was impotent. I could do so much more than I ever dreamed and it still wasn't enough. It still felt like it hardly mattered. It still felt so small and barely awake.

Maybe if I had more time I would be able to make up for the things that I had done. Maybe if I had more time I could learn to fight my Mother. If I had more time I could kill my father and I could actually save my sisters. But I didn't have that much time. I was constantly running out of it. I was in constant pain. I couldn't unmake the past and I couldn't control the future. If only I were on fire. That would set things straight.

Neo tucked herself in. It had grown late. The rain still smattered against the tarps of the tents in little clacks. Rosé forgo her training this evening and went straight to bed. She was too tired it would seem. I could hardly blame her. She needed time. And she was fortunate enough to have it. It was so precious and fleeting.

Eventually I changed out of my soaking clothes and crawled into my own sleeping bag. What fresh hell waited for me tonight? What terrible things would happen to my form while I slept? It was coming for me, of that there could be no question and no doubt. These terror nights were fit enough to drive me insane. Or more insane. Mother was growing more and more impatient and frustrated. She was losing her grip. I could feel it. I could practically smell it. She was going mad too. It was a two way street and we were both on it. She was as much my dark passenger as I was hers. It was a switch that flipped both directions and it was a pleasure and even a relief to know that I was the one causing that fissure. I was placing enormous pressure on her just as she pressed on me. She couldn't hide from me either. She set up a connection between our minds, an unholy union of ourselves which I ran across as well as she did. Burn with me, Mother. Burn us both whole. I can't get away from you and you can't get away from me. So let's burn together. You will be coming with me. You will be seared through. Burn with me. Burn it all.

If I can have no peace neither can you. You wanted this, didn't you? Mother? You wanted to be a part of me? Well, looks like you're getting your wish. And I shall destroy your mind with my own. Let my guilt and fear haunt you and burn you with it. Let my madness torch your brain.

pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq

-WG