Mercia’s ears rang like after the pealing of the great church bells of her home world. The Inquisitors body ached and her mind felt like a pleasant, gentle fog had been brought over it. A sudden wracking cough seized her and a searing pain coursed through her chest. The woman’s eyes flittered open, the blue orbs lazily focusing. She could taste blood and couldn’t feel her legs anymore, she couldn’t even raise her head to look down at herself but she didn’t need to do that to know that her opponents bolt round had rendered the decorated black carapace of her breastplate useless. The once gilded Imperial eagle on her chest was nothing more than a simple and twisted wreck of charred filigree now and she could feel the blood pooling beneath the cold ceramic.<br/><br/>The blessed round must have failed to penetrate fully before it exploded in some small measure of twisted luck, some kind of small blessing from her God Emperor as he sat on his Golden Throne. Surely the woman knew she was still going to expire here, on the cool cement floor of the old Administratum building. Her wounds were too severe and though the internal systems of her armor were damaged the HUD in her helmet could only keep listing off the critical injuries she’d sustained before the explosive round gouged out a good measure of her chest. If the critical blood loss didn’t kill her, or the internal bleeding she’d sustained and even if she didn’t expire from the hole in her chest the damage it’d done to her spine according to her MIU would eventually do her in.<br/><br/>Mercia let out a resigned sigh. The kind of noise a woman makes when she has given herself up to the will of the God Emperor to be judged. She had nothing but time to contemplate now, her glassy blue eyes staring at the elegant vaulted ceiling, a gilded rendition of her very own deity staring back down at her. His gaze was stern and unwavering and she felt like a small child once more under his piercing, unloving eyes. It was like she was dragged to confession for the first time once more and almost felt compelled to confess her sins to the inanimate Emperor looking down at her.<br/><br/>It took an almost herculean effort, her lips were cracked and dry and her tongue swollen but she managed to finally speak and say her peace. Her own voice rang in the helmet around her, the vox built into it damaged beyond any repair, her broken body simply laying there on the cold ground as she began her final confession to, in her mind, the benevolent God Emperor. Before she faded to black once more her mind took her to the last place she wanted to go. It was the only woman that had ever invoked some kind of fear in her. It wasn’t the same fear as facing down a Tyranid or Necron instilled in the hearts of men. This was the fear of loss and it made her sick to her stomach to reflect back upon the sins she’d committed with the witch, Evangeline.  Her lips still confessed each one, the words making her lips tingle as she confessed each of her trespasses to the Emperor once more. “I have consorted with the witch, a hated enemy of your divine Imperium, Lord. And… I would do so again.” Soon her voice failed her and her head started to swim; her own vision coming and going with the passing of time and still yet she had the fear of loss deep in her chest.<br/><i><br/>
I must not fear. Fear is the little death that brigs obliteration…</i><br/>___________________________________________________________________________<br/>The lights of the small study were dim and perhaps that was part of what had caused or at least fueled Mercia’s raging headache that was currently rearing its ugly, snarling head. The red haired Inquisitor sat at the simple wooden desk , her bob-cut hair hanging in her eyes as she once more examined the letter that had taken  her to Obsidium Secondus along with  the only member left of her retinue. The mere thought of the woman made the fair featured woman groan, her lips curling into a frown before she set down the piece of paper that detailed her fellow inquisitors suspicions of cult activity on the planet and instead turned her attentions to the tumbler of Amasec to her right her gloved hand picking up the glass gently and bringing it to her lips. The ice inside clinked against the chilled glass as she once more contemplatively looked down at the letter, the official seal of the Inquisition  serving as a mandate or more writ compelling her to do this<br/>.<br/>Mercia places her tumbler down and sighs, rolling her neck as her other ungloved hand rubs at the opposite shoulder. She was clothed simply , a long sleeved shirt and simple leather pants. These were here traveling clothes and they’d served her well and kept her free from undue suspicion in the past and she hoped they’d continue to do the same for her in her time on Secondus if her fellow Inquisitor’s suspicions were right about the cult activity. And Emperor’s bowels she hoped he wasn’t right, that for once there was nothing to root out, not the conspiracy spanning the noble houses that was detailed in the strongly worded letter she’d received. Her pale hand left her shoulder and went to her forehead , pushing her scarlet red bangs away from her sky blue eyes and she sighed in a resigned manner again.<br/><br/>It was all too quiet , waiting for her contact to send her the encrypted data she’d requested in idleness spawned heresy… heresy of the type that included thinking about the woman likely next door in the large penthouse suite.  The inquisitor made no move to chastise herself for these idle thoughts just yet though she hated herself for them, instead she once more became acquainted with the taste of fine Amasec as she let her mind slip into a lazy oblivion that included thoughts of passionate cries and tangled limbs.<div class="messageTextEndMarker"> </div>