>>5508129>CONTINUED"<span class="mu-r">One of the greatest imperfections of man,</span>" she says, "<span class="mu-r">is its capacity for betrayal. It is a culmination of all the others. Of hatred. Of hypocrisy. Of unsettled loyalties. Of blind trust. Of irrational emotion. Of <span class="mu-i">love.</span> There would be no betrayal without the affliction of love, only death— a common imperfection to all species, and nothing to be specially lauded.</span>"
You might have spoken too soon.
"<span class="mu-r">I have committed a betrayal. This is in my nature. You might say to me that I will have betrayed gods and man alike, and I say to you that is in my nature too. It is in yours as well. If we were meant to not betray we would not be capable of it. We would have been formed whole. The EIGHT deny this. They spin the lie of free will. But were we not deliberately <span class="mu-i">created?</span> Were not each of us formed from mud and seawater? Make no mistake: we were set on this disc to enact our gross imperfections upon others. We were <span class="mu-i">made</span> to lie and to steal and to rape and to kill and to betray. To provide entertainment. To sate Their sick amusement. You think me insane?</span>"
It's a couple seconds before you realize she's waiting for a response, and a couple more before you realize nobody else is giving one. Arledge is physically turned away, his face cupped in his hands. Lucky has a look like he's taking mental notes. "Lottie!" you say. "Lottie, i-i-if you can hear me, you have to—!"
"<span class="mu-r">I have heard this often. That there is no other possible reason for following the WYRM, who hates me, who hates this world we live in. And I say to you that you misunderstand. The WYRM does not hate. It pities. It sees the suffering and the squalor that the EIGHT condone and it sees the imperfections that perpetuate these things and it pities us, all of us, who live this way. It wants nothing more but to make a perfect world. A world with no suffering and no betrayal. I want this too. I want you to want it too, which is why you have been allowed to witness this. I pity you.</span>"
Improbably, blood is still gushing down the cliffside— more than before, even with the body gone. It flows steadily down the canal. It has half-filled the pool. Not Lottie reaches down and picks up a shoebox. "<span class="mu-r">And because of this, you will be the first to be released of your suffering. I wish you well.</span>"
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