It takes strength to be a saint

Saint gave a soft sigh, slipping the tome he had been reading shut with an echoing thud. "I know you're standing there, father. Come into the light instead of throwing yourself into the shadows." The young Drak stood, turning to hoist himself onto the table behind him as his father strode into the room he had been locked in. A sneer twitched to the Nightmare's face, disgust evident in his clear blue hues. "Even now you disrespect me. First I catch you under that filthy Kainu, now you can't even stand to greet me. What kind of a-" Saint shut the robed old man up by heaving the heavy tome acrossed the room with an angry hiss escaping his lips, ears flaring and lips pulling from his gums to expose the teeth he oh so desperately wanted to sink into the old man's hide. "Enough. I'd rather be impure than join in your feud over coin that shouldn't even be WORTH all of the blood spilled, all of the life lost. I never wanted to be part of your overstated blood war." During his small speech Saint had slipped from the desk, tail lashing furiously behind him like that of an angry cat. He didn't mind though, he was spewing all of the feelings he had been dying to tell his father for years. A snarl slipped through the air like a knife though butter, the halo above the Nightmare's head wavering angrily. Saint would have gotten one just like it if he had stayed on his path, but if he had he would have been forced to continue preaching the fact that these people should continue shedding blood for the gold that would just trickle through their fingers like water through a cheese cloth. He had never wanted this and never hoped for this, the gold those people worked for was theirs. "If you had stayed in the light, stuck to your studies instead of slipping into the darkness like a delinquent. You could have had EVERYTHING, Saint, EVERYTHING. I set aside my entire empire for you, all of it, all the gold all the influence." His fur spiked, his tail lashed, he was angry and Saint knew it. The white cross was just going to let his father spew though, tail gingerly twitching behind him while the nightmare droned on and on about how the divine path he had set for his son was ruined by one harlot with a snake's hood. The slur he called Sinner caused Saint to snap however, head whipping from its slightly turned position where he was drowning his father out with the image of the bog outside of the cabin window. "You call yourself a high man, a holy man, a man of the people and a man who loves all yet you refer to her as that and you disown your own SON for doing something only natural to ADULTS in the first place. What kind of a fucking man are you?!" Saint took a few threatening steps forward, though he stood a good head shorter than his father he was stupidly unafraid to shoulder up to the large male. His old man was nothing but skin and bone at this point anyway, years spent sitting on a chair instead of out in the fields helping others like Saint had. The moment his father bared his teeth at Saint was the moment everything was over for him, the smaller white male staining the floor and himself with the sticky gold substance that spilled from his tainted divine veins. Saint didn't regret his decisions, he never would. This man was far from innocent and wouldn't even be given a last rite. No, instead he would be left to rot in the cabin he intended for his son to do the same in. With a huff the cross washed up, moving out into the swamp after cleaning the gold substance from his body so it wouldn't stain his pelt. There was no need to remember the corpse that would rot on the floor now, nobody would find it.

His deed wore heavily on his mind no matter the justification he put behind it once it settled over his shoulders, though he would've let it drag him down. Saint had killed a man, but he was better off for it. He had done what needed to be done for the betterment of thousands, a show of strength that he would never be honored for. With a sigh he tugged the thought away from his mind, kneeling at the side of what was once a strong Drak. Saint offered them a small smile, gingerly whispering to them while they tightly clasped his hand. Once the realization hit them that he was actually there and not some form of ghost they offered a gasp, their fading gaze slipping up to his gentle lilac one. "Are you actually here? Am I dying?" Saint offered them a sad smile, nodding slowly and reaching to gingerly brush their hair from their face. "Unfortunately you are. You took a pretty bad blow to the chest. The medics did everything they could and the hospitals are just too far out to save you, I'm so sorry. But the wonderful news is you're going to a wonderful place." Saint's words were gentle, the tenseness from the Drak seeming to leave them after he finished speaking. They nodded, their grip on Saint slacking. "I am, aren't I? I can see my family again. They're so... Happy. I lost them when the city collapsed... They're not hurt, they're.." The Drak was gone before they could finish their words, their breath rattling in their throat. Saint gave a deepened breath, offering a few more mumbled words before standing to signal for the body to be picked up so he could continue on his seemingly ghostly way. He plopped heavily onto a log nearby to watch as the medics moved the Drak away, gaze following them until he couldn't see them anymore. The most he could have done was make the Drak happy in their final moments, whatever they saw was on them and he had nothing to do with it. Though the fact that he saw his family did bring the cross some peace of mind. Once the corpse was taken care of he rose, moving away from the field and towards the nearest town with a ruffle of his already ragged hair. The sound of footsteps caught his attention, though they seemed to be running towards him so he stilled his movements to wait for the Drak chasing him to catch up. "Hey, Saint!" The voice was unfamiliar, but many knew his name and many saught him out to pull him away from his relaxation for his services. "Yes?" His frame turned, being met with a flat black Drak. "Why do you do that? Comfort those that're dying? Give them last rites under your breath?" The question seemed to catch Saint off guard, causing him to wrinkle his brow in thought for a few moments. "Well..." Saint took a moment, scratching his chin gently before continuing with his measured words. "Because people deserve to be at peace during their last moments. People deserve more than the world gave them during their lives while they pass, and I intend to give it to them. It's more than I was given my entire life, kindness and all, and they have the choice to ignore me. It's the least I can do as a person and former priest, the church may have excommunicated me but any good place there is will accept anyone there is. In our cores we're all the same, we... We all deserve love and an embrace that's warm at the end of the day." Saint sighed softly, offering one of his horns a tug. "Weather that's family or a god isn't my choice, but whatever makes one feel at peace at the end." He nodded, turning his gaze back to the black Drak. "Wise words, Saint. Wise words. I'll pass them on." The Drak turned to trot away, leaving Saint confused and a bit concerned. His head shook softly, watching the Drak disappear into the mist of the forest before continuing on the path. The strange thing was they didn't seem to leave footprints, any heavy creature would, and they seemed to be a Nightmare. Saint gingerly shook his head, they seemed familiar. He couldn't pinpoint why, but they really did. Reaching the edge of town with its softly glowing blue lanterns he paused, sliding down one of their posts to think about it for a long while. It took a few hours for it to dawn on him, his eyes widening when the fact smacked him in the face. He had been speaking to a ghost, one he had a long conversation with while they lay dying near a collapsed building. With a deep breath he stood, he must have been seeing things. Spirits couldn't attach themselves to him, right? He let them go in peace... Right? Rubbing his hands down both sides of his face he gave a small groan, making his way back towards the local pub to wait for more people to seek him out for his assistance.