Lady Lucille Sharpe (
blackmothwings) wrote in
deernet2022-02-21 07:23 am
Video; UN: BlackMoths
[CW: Talk of violence, bloodshed, murder.]
[Here's Lucille, sitting in her candlelit parlor room at home. In the background, there are lots of candles, flames dancing and casting steady shadows on the walls. A wall of books can be seen behind her too, with various trinkets decorating the mahogany shelves -- a wilting flower in a vase, a figure resembling a deer. Her hair is down (unusual for her), and one may notice the moth antennae protruding from her head.]
I wonder if a monster can ever stop being a monster? [She starts, speaking softly, threading her fingers together.] Does a shard of that... horror always exist, buried deep in one's heart, lying dormant but ready to blossom once nurtured?
Tragedy, fear, or pain may all feed it until it takes over and everything you've worked towards is lost.
[She's calm, sitting tall and regal. If she's affected by the subject matter, she doesn't show it, her face an expressionless mask.]
Talk of change is all well and good, but what do you do when you always feel that violence in your heart, its roots embedded in your flesh and bones? You know it's there. It's always there. It grows or recedes, depending on the season.
If you've... hurt innocent people in the past, but now act violently just to protect your loved ones from harm, are you still a monster? Have you really, truly changed? Is it wrong to commit one more act of violence simply to ensure that those loved ones don't get eaten in a world that wants to swallow them whole? If one must kill so they do not watch their loved ones perish, can you really call them a villain?
I wonder what your thoughts are, Trench? Can a monster ever stop being a monster? And do they even want to stop? [She says before reaching forward to switch off the feed. That neutral mask never slips.]
[Here's Lucille, sitting in her candlelit parlor room at home. In the background, there are lots of candles, flames dancing and casting steady shadows on the walls. A wall of books can be seen behind her too, with various trinkets decorating the mahogany shelves -- a wilting flower in a vase, a figure resembling a deer. Her hair is down (unusual for her), and one may notice the moth antennae protruding from her head.]
I wonder if a monster can ever stop being a monster? [She starts, speaking softly, threading her fingers together.] Does a shard of that... horror always exist, buried deep in one's heart, lying dormant but ready to blossom once nurtured?
Tragedy, fear, or pain may all feed it until it takes over and everything you've worked towards is lost.
[She's calm, sitting tall and regal. If she's affected by the subject matter, she doesn't show it, her face an expressionless mask.]
Talk of change is all well and good, but what do you do when you always feel that violence in your heart, its roots embedded in your flesh and bones? You know it's there. It's always there. It grows or recedes, depending on the season.
If you've... hurt innocent people in the past, but now act violently just to protect your loved ones from harm, are you still a monster? Have you really, truly changed? Is it wrong to commit one more act of violence simply to ensure that those loved ones don't get eaten in a world that wants to swallow them whole? If one must kill so they do not watch their loved ones perish, can you really call them a villain?
I wonder what your thoughts are, Trench? Can a monster ever stop being a monster? And do they even want to stop? [She says before reaching forward to switch off the feed. That neutral mask never slips.]

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It'd be nice if more humans could live that way, actually. But historically they haven't.
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I admit they'll have an easier time in the afterlife, but I don't think humans should be as focused on that as they are.
You only get a little time on Earth. The afterlife will be there whenever.
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It's... interesting. I never really believed in the afterlife. I always believed that we'd disappear into nothingness when we passed on. Eternal darkness. After speaking to you and meeting other demons and angels, I'm not as confident about that these days. Although, there is always a possibility of the afterlife not existing in my world.
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Might not have an afterlife, might not look like mine even if they do.
I wouldn't count on it being kind, anyway. Ours didn't have any of that until pretty recently.
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Oh, no. Surely heaven is kind. Surely. That's the picture that religious people like to paint.
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But it's hard to really be kind when you don't try to understand the people you're trying to help. The humans there hadn't been happy for a long time, by the time I met them.
Anyway, they left all of humanity to Hell for the past five centuries - how kind can they be?
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Can't say religion factors into things at all, though.
We aren't quite as strict on the whole "doing good things for selfish reasons invalidates them entirely" thing, but viewing everything as a means to an afterlife end is still not a great look.