>>5751279"Magnificent," he remarks with a soothing voice that feels like still water on a quiet night. "Drink deeply of despair's sweet nectar, young one, and through it you shall come to appreciate the Lady of Loss." Addressing the girl, he gently runs the edge of his circular blade across her partially exposed abdomen, careful to draw blood without inflicting an injury. She yelps and fidgets in vain.
"The senses are the affliction; from the eyes, you receive naught but sorrow. Oblivion is the cure; wherefore would a man that cannot witness tragedy weep? The agony of body and spirit alike that consumes you must be insufferable. Only the Nightsinger's embrace, then, can be your salvation." Humming to himself, he lovingly caresses her cheek, glancing at the facsimile of Emitia.
"Yet there is one here whose despair is sublime," continues the priest. "He gives generously to the goddess, asking her to ease his sorrows, and I have been sent to offer the comfort that only she provides. All I ask is that you, a thing of uncommon beauty, lend of your flesh to another in need," he sings, holding the blade to her throat.
