courtesy call [cowt10 | week 07 | m2]

Prompt: Gangsters/Crime AU

Word count: 920
Rating: sfw
Fandom: Haikyuu!!
Note: "Son cose che non sono cose" -cit.

---

The night was growing livelier by the second, as people of all the different groups joined the already large crowd on the stands around the pit.
Gathering like that had become a thing back when there was the previous generation of leaders and, to be fair, it went on mostly as a tradition. If you asked one Sawamura Daichi, he'd make it without assisting to the useless bloodshed in the pit; but hey, who was he to stop the youngsters from putting up a show, if that pleased the masses? It was arguably the best entertainment, but entertainment nonetheless.

He stood with his hands on the railing, looking down on the pit and the stands from his private balcony, thoughts already spinning around his head.

Each and every leader had one, where only their chosen favorites could follow; the security around the underground fighting arena made quite sure of that, also to respect the unspoken common rule of not bothering each other in those occasions. Many feared that secret alliances could be built and that would clearly damage the lesser groups--which is laughable, since in their world it was either kill or be killed most of times. If someone didn't have the strength to survive, no one of the bigger clans would possibly be interested in an alliance with them.

So, really, it was all a façade standing on old tradition alone.

"Oya, if it isn't good ol' Sawamura!" a lazy voice called out at the same time the door opened behind him.

Of course, a little bribing here and there would break even that.

Daichi sighed to himself, shoulders slumping slightly, before turning back to his sudden guest. He was welcomed with the familiar rooster-hair of Kuroo Tetsurou, leader of the Nekoma Group since four years ago.

The two of them became boss almost at the same time, their predecessors having been friends long before they became their respective group's head, and Daichi suspected they meant for that to happen: it was crucial, Ukai said back when he was younger and still in training, for them to keep a good relationship with his peers from the other groups. At that time, he didn't imagine he'd become sort of friends with the other man.

"Kuroo, what are you doing here?" he asked, a tad to tiredly for his liking. In no time, the other man stepped closer and closer, until he was in range to put his arm around his shoulders. Daichi learned since long ago to not bother arguing with the fellow boss or refusing his signs of "friendship".

"Can't I greet a dear friend? It's been a while since we met. Say, how're things in Miyagi?"

Those was the usual question he asked every time, looking directly at him in the face, golden eyes seemingly searching for answers.

If there was something he felt truly dangerous in the man before him, his eyes were on the top list: Kuroo's eyes held a magnetic feeling most of time, a veil of mocking and provocation forever present in them. Sometimes, it was hard only to resist the pull one might feel towards them and the man himself.

Still, Daichi knew how cold they could become when he acted like the boss he is, dealing with a threat to his group. He didn't want to never, ever be on the receiving end of that stare.

"We got two few more newbies. One of them coming from the Aoba." he explained, looking back at the pit, earning a long whistle from his friend. "He's quite good already, but he lacks teamwork skills."

He didn't want to remember the first day the youngsters started: Suga described the two as endearing, but that happened only /after/ he scolded (and half terrified) them for being already fighting--personality wise, Hinata was a ball of sunshine and friendliness, as opposed to the calmer and more reserved Kageyama. How they apparently irked each other by merely existing, he didn't know, but he felt like they would become a terrifying duo, after they got to understand each other better.

"Well, I bet my ass you'll be on a wild ride just to make sure they don't kill each other." Kuroo snickered, probably sensing his impression already. The man had a stupidly strong sixth sense for those things. "I'm thinking about visiting Miyagi in a while just to see that!"

"Please, don't."

"Ouch! You wound me, I thought you'd be happy to see me?"

"I would be, if I didn't knew you're coming to see me suffer."

A chuckle escaped the rooster-head man, his hold becoming a little more pressing. Daichi jumped a little when he felt the other's lips ghosting at his ear.

"There's that and there's seeing you. That's enough reason for me."

The other one's voice sounded as almost purring when he next spoke and at least, he told himself, he long learned not to blush like a teen at his first crush. Before he could reply, though, he felt the man at his side to be yanked away with a yelp.

He couldn't help but gave a silent sigh of relief when Yaku appeared on the balcony to retrieve their boss. Seriously, he was either a Saint to put up with Kuroo's disappearing or the Demon Kuroo himself was always running from.

The answer would still wait for another time--shortly after he thanked and waved the two "guests" off, the starting alarm blared over the shouting of the crowd.

The show was on just like that.

l'altra parte di me [cowt10 | week 07 | m2]

Prompt: Twincest

Word count: 560
Rating: sfw
Fandom: Originale
Note: Mihai e Rafail sono persone sane, bilanciate e non hanno un'ossessione reciproca.
(e qui ancora non hanno incontrato la persona che riuscirà a tenerli a bada entrambi. Chiaramente. Che dio ci aiuti)

---

There was a time when the both of them didn't think about their relationship.

Waking up next to each other, being the first person they saw once they opened their eyes felt like the most natural thing in the world (it still did in the present, but this is another matter) and neither of them cared about their mother, telling them that they should start sleeping separated.

It didn't felt right. Never felt right.

Rafail was the one doing most the complaint, whenever the topic surfaced in a conversation. He was also the one who worked up more easily, so of course it was his brother's duty to be the calm one in those occasions.

"They can't understand their bond", Mihai told him, more often than not, after every fight between the younger twin and their parents. He knew that. Probably, one day, their father will come to an understanding with them on that matter, but their mother? The woman was as stubborn as they both were, with the temperament of a dog guarding his favorite bone. There was no doubt where Rafail's attitude came from, really.

Still, Mihai though, it would be nice if their parents could accept the fact that Rafail and he were two parts of the same being, never meant to be separated. He wouldn't say soulmates, because those were "two souls destined for each other" and they felt more one soul divided in two bodies. It was completely different, even if they completed each other like soulmates did.

Even if many would be freaked out by them, if they found out the extent of their relationship, both Rafail and Mihai didn't hold back from doing whatever they wanted, more so after they decided to go live together. College years were the best--no parents, no older sister (even if they loved her, a lot), no friend-babysitter to keep an eye on them--because they managed to get an apartment for themselves. It meant freedom, in every possible sense, for the two of them.

It happened back then--the first time they could really be with each other without anyone interrupting them. Small pecks on the lips and soft kisses weren't really a surprise, but when Rafail pushed his twin agains the kitchen counter and kissed him hard, they both knew this would lead to the next step in their relationship. Mihai didn't hold back, lips parting to let their tongues intertwine and hands traveling up the other's chest and into his hair. He felt his other half's breath hitching a little, when he grabbed a fistful of golden locks and tugged, and he found himself loving the sensation that gave him. Soon enough, Rafail got his revenge by biting the soft flesh of the other's lower lip, pulling slightly with an amused smirk of his own.

Soon enough, when searing kisses and cold hands exploring bare skin weren't enough anymore, they moved to their shared bedroom. What happened there didn't need much explaining--it felt natural to them and honestly, whoever thought otherwise could go fuck themselves, if you asked either of them.

They found their peace like that and, for the moment, it was enough.

(it would take some years, but eventually they'd find another piece of their life--one they didn't know was missing in the first place. But this, as they say, is  story for another time)

just a side thought [cowt10 | week 07 | m6]

Prompt: Pensiero laterale

Word count: 680
Rating: sfw
Fandom: Originale
Note: Royalty!AU. Amo scrivere di Freyr tanto quanto amo tormentarlo 2.0

---

La sala grande usata di consueto per le udienze era gremita di persone, sia d'altissimo che di più modesto ceto.

Era di certo una vista inusuale, nobili e cavalieri schierati in file ordinate come la buona etichetta sovente richiedeva; i primi con i loro abiti sfarzosi e con tutta certezza fatti preparare solamente per l'odierno evento al solo obiettivo di far invidia ed ostentare le proprie ricchezze, i secondi avvolti da armature tutte uguali, sfavillanti dopo un'attenta visita alle armerie atta a ridar loro rigore, perfezione di forme, lucentezza.

Entrambe le classi avrebbero dato immagine perfetta di loro stesse, perchè tanto era richiesto dalla nomina di un nuovo comandante dei cavalieri stessi. I presenti sarebbero stati testimoni e sostenitori ed al tempo stesso protetti e protettori del nuovo eletto, mentre lo stesso riceveva le benedizioni del Sovrano e della Stella.

Mormorii soffusi riempivano con discrezione la sala e l'attesa del grande evento--sussurri di auguri scambiati furtivamente tra compagni d'arme, domande volatili ed osservazioni celate dietro al palmo di una mano, ventagli decorati di grandame e nobildonne andavano a mascherare i pettegolezzi per attuali questioni serie.

(L'Ombra avrebbe potuto percepire tutti e nessuno di essi, fosse stata questa la sua scelta.)

Al di sotto del cappuccio di seta nera che oscurava parte del viso della creatura, questa osservava con tombale silenzio ed il giusto grado di rispetto gli invitati alla cerimonia, crogiolandosi nella dispettosa consapevolezza che il loro signore non amasse avere a che fare con gruppi così estesi di persone in un'occasione sola. Specialmente se gli stessi erano quelli che pretendevano di saperne più di lui e di dargli direttive che, poi, lui avrebbe dovuto seguire.

Aspettative infrante, già da tempo ormai.

Sarebbe stato semplice liberarsi di quei fastidi, lo sapeva la creatura così come lo sapeva il suo signore, ma apparentemente quest’ultimo non pareva votato all’eliminazione come soluzione primaria. Molti lo reputavano un debole--hah! Freyr, un debole!--per quelle dimostrazioni di clemenza che lo caratterizzavano, ignari del fatto che avesse il potere di far crollare i regni vicini ad uno schiocco di dita. Una soluzione rapida, che avrebbe portato a lui ed al regno null’altro che vantaggi.

Invece, tanto scioccamente quanto testardamente, tentava di risolvere le questioni in maniera civile, con empatia. Ci provava, quanto meno.

(Le sue debolezze risiedevano altrove, non nella sua umanità. Nelle notti insonni passate nel terrore di essere scoperto dalla Stella. Negli incubi di un passato che ritornava a fargli visita, accompagnato da rosso e bianco ed argento. Il senso di colpa lo divorava lentamente, non importa le rassicurazioni. Non osava dimenticare.)

Con un frammento della coscienza collettiva che l'Ombra condivideva con le sue simili, lo sguardo cadde su un'altra ala del palazzo reale, ove uno dei due cortei si apprestava negli ultimi preparativi. Echi di voci, osservazioni tangibili quanto nebbia per un esterno, raggiunsero la sua coscienza in un via vai di informazioni catturate, analizzate e poi rimandate nella comune oscurità.

Pareva che il loro sovrano fosse quasi pronto alla sua trionfale entrata, mentre lei già rideva dietro la sua maschera di umanità in attesa di quel momento.

Oh, amavano tutti quell'umano dal cuore più morbido di quanto voglia mostrare al mondo, ma per lo stesso motivo--e per una promessa fatta in tempi ancora giovani, in cui lui stesso non aveva ancora compreso l'entità del Patto--sentivano di poter dare lui un po' di sano, amichevole tormento.

I legami che li univano, più forti del destino e della vita e della morte stesse, si erano intrecciati gli uni con gli altri da tempo ormai. Ed ora, laddove un fascio di fili neri come le notti prive dell’argentea luce lunare non avrebbe avuto di che risplendere se abbandonato a se stesso, un solitario e sottile fascio luminoso emergeva ancor più palesemente, desideroso di ricevere tutta l’attenzione meritata.

Era il loro compito: non soffocare la luce, ma farla risplendere.

(Quella considerazione fu rapida ad apparire come lo fu a sfuggire dalla mente dell’Ombra, quando l’attenzione tornò sui mortali e sulla loro sacra cerimonia. Ogni altro pensiero laterale, secondario di certo poteva attendere un momento più propizio.)

life of the party [cowt10 | week 07 | m6]

Prompt: Imprevisto dietro l'angolo

Word count: 1330
Rating: sfw
Fandom: The Arcana
Note: Come avrei voluto andassero le cose in quel capitolo di Arcana, di qualsiasi route. Sorry not sorry, Lucio.
Possibili spoiler per chi non ha ancora giocato. (fatelo pls.)

---

The main ballroom was full of people, citizen of Vesuvia and visitors from abroad alike, all silent before the sight.

On the top of the stairs, in all his glory, Count Lucio stood. Arms wide open, smirk in place. The only thing that testified his illness was the vibrant red in his scleras. A color that made Badr shudder a little, especially since the memories came back.

Her brows furrowed evidently, irises darting to the still smirking face of the Devil.

“What? Your beloved are all fine and healthy. I have done no harm to them, nor you.”

The magician didn’t grace him with an answer, moving her gaze to the Count. Her eyes caught the astonished expressions of the guests, some horrified or terrified, others enthusiastic or curious. She spotted the familiar mask and outfit of Nadia, the closest to the man; then Portia, who—forever faithful—was offering all her support to the Countess.

Julian, he was nowhere she could see, but if she extended her senses enough she could feel the faintest pulse of his magic. And, finally, Asra. His presence alone served to soothe her nerves and calm her racing mind a bit.

She had no time to spare getting nervous and panicky. She had to go back, to get her body back.

“Easier said than done.”

And yet…

A spark ignited an idea in her mind, eyes growing wide as it took control of her whole self. Badr knew it was something akin of a desperate attempt to hold on to the material world, but still--if that worked, it would be totally worth it. 

Determined, she dashed off to the closest exit under the curious scrutiny of the major arcana.

*

After the initial shock of the unexpected appearance of Lucio, the mood managed to shift back to a more party-like atmosphere. There were still glances thrown at the supposed dead man, but more than that everyone learned fast to mind their own business. It was easier to keep their sanity that way.

Speaking of which, Nadia felt like she was losing both that and her patience. She felt one of her headaches come back full-force, stronger and stronger, the more her ex-husband talked. Lucio was definitely more obnoxious that she remembered him and even sprouted more nonsense that he did before. For sure, he was convinced everything was fine and dandy and that everyone was more than happy for his return.

Oh, how wrong could he’ve been! He and his pompous plan--whatever that might be, beside coming back--was something they definitely had to stop before it was completed. Still, without Badr things could go downhill faster than anyone could’ve anticipated--or so her instinct told her.

They needed everyone to succeed, for sure.

She had excused herself to take a fresh breath of hair on the balcony, Portia offering her a quick moment of solace with a glass of white wine, but the blonde man was surely known for his stubbornness in keeping the attention to himself. It wouldn’t be long before he’d be back looking for “Noddy”--how she hated that damned nickname!

The umpteenth snort left her lips, and she was about to just go and ask her beloved husband to please shut the heck up, when a soft tap on her back caught her attention. Turning around, her eyes met a finely carved mask of a wolf. Or a dog, maybe. The figure, clad in a beautiful white-and-grey outfit, extended their hand to her with a respectful bow and a familiar playful smirk barely hidden by the disguise.

“Forgive my impudence, Your Grace. But may I dare to ask you for a dance? It may be the only occasion to do this.”

The voice, too, was familiar. A tone or two deeper than she remembered, but still familiar. She smiled, a blessed wave of relief hitting her. “My, I couldn’t deny such a chivalrous request.”

When the new song started, the Countess found herself in the middle of the dance floor not long after leaving her glass on a table on the way inside. The two danced on, as close to each other as socially acceptable by her standing--not that she would have minded, if her “knight” felt it appropriate to bring her closer to them.

At some point after a swift turn, Nadia found herself giggling. Her partner locked eyes onto her.

“I knew you could dance well, but I didn’t expect you to ask so boldly.” 

Badr smirked, a roguish expression the Countess found rather appropriate. Nadia’s mind faintly registered the fact that, finally, Lucio feel silent from where he was standing. The sight alone made her smile a tad wider.

“The Masquerade allows some boundaries to be crossed, a really unique event. And…”

The dark haired magician pressed themselves a little closer, almost flushing against the ruler as they turned again. Wasn’t it for the mask, Badr’s lips would have been an hair’s breadth from Nadia’s ear. The Prakran woman felt a little frisson on her back when the whispered words came to her.

“You should spite your ex-husband some more. His expression right now is reeeally the best.”

She couldn’t help but let out a small laugh as she actually saw him: if there was something Lucio despised, other than not being at the centre of attention, it was someone stealing that from him directly. And of course, with the fact that someone was dancing with the Countess herself and did a damn good job at stealing everyone’s stares away, he couldn’t help but boil in silent frustration.

When the song ended,Nadia found herself pulled back from her dancing partner by a very annoyed and pouting Count. His eyes were locked on Badr, an angry and jealous glint in them.

“Well well well, you seem to be having fun. Shouldn’t you invite your Lord, too?”

Typical of him, he wasn’t bothered by the fact that a stranger was dancing closely with his wife. He simply didn’t want to be left out--he had been for too long, three and more years, after all.

So, if attention is what he wanted, attention would he get. 

“How unfair of me, focusing on Lady Nadia and not you.” Badr began, voice so exceedingly sweet that even he was thrown off a bit. “Please, let me show you my deepest appreciation for you.”

Lucio didn’t have the time to respond as a gloved fist met his face, pain erupting from its center and irradiating like the Plague in his head. He fell backwards, landing on his backside, grunting in pain as a collective gasp filled the air.

He looked up, surprised gray irises meeting fiery green ones. The mask had fell off. He recognized the face staring down at him.

“You—!”

“Yes, me.” The magician growled, bending at the waist before him. A hand closed on the front of his cape, pulling him towards their face, barely a breach away. “Don’t get too cozy in that body, Dearest Lord. I will take it back, bite after bite should I have to.”

A low, cracking sound followed the seething declaration. Only then, both Lucio and Nadia noticed the pieces of dark soil falling on the floor, from the arm that Badr used to hit the Count with. A few seconds and the white clad figure of the magician turned completely into soil and crumpled, dirtying the pristine clothes of the ruler.

Astonished silence followed for a moment before he stood back up, barking at the spectators and stomping off to bother his next victim. All the while the Countess tried not to smile too much at the sight: even if banished from the living realm, Badr could have such a strong fighting spirit--one that even Lucio, nor the Devil himself, could control.

A storm in human flesh, able to erase the obstacles in her way.

Unpredictable, or an “accident” on Lucio’s account.

She definitely would be back and teach her stupid husband a lesson he’d never forget.

willow maid [cowt10 | week 07 | m6]

Prompt: Battito della natura

Word count: 1210
Rating: sfw
Fandom: The Arcana
Note: Missing moments, perchè sì.

---

It happened  a late afternoon. 

Asra had spent a good deal of time speaking with Nadia, about both the investigation itself and to grant his fellow magician a deserved break. He had nothing against the Countess, but he knew she could be rather… demanding, sometimes, when she assigned a job. Badr didn’t fail to mention the “damned test” Nadia put her through, using one of their Arcana to see if she could follow magic traces with moving targets.

Still, Nadia was a nice host, really. Once she warmed up to a person, she wouldn’t hold back with gifts or shows of appreciation. An aspect that finally brought to the magician’s current predicament. 

Taking a stroll around the castle with the ruler, talking about lighter topics. More or less.

“Asra, I must ask a… delicate question.” the Countess began at a point, an unexpected sigh leaving her lips. “Do you think Badr is bothered by my actions? It’s true that we didn’t exactly started with the right foot, but… I suppose I still haven’t redeemed myself?”

The magician looked at her curiously, a little taken aback from the confession. Then, he smiled amiably. “It’s not like that, Nadi. Badr is just horrible at expressing feelings.” he admitted, fondness as well as bluntness in his voice.

“You say that, but I fear I have… ah, offended her, with my last gift.”

The dress. Badr showed him the garment the evening before. It was a beautiful piece made with a soft, almost feather-like fabric that Badr herself defined “like a cloud”. Nadia had given it to her some days prior, if he recalled correctly, while Badr was just having a “they” period. 

Shaking his head, he placed a hand on the Countess shoulder. Her gaze fixed in his almost immediately and he smiled once again, a honest and reassuring smile. “I know where the problem lies, Nadi, and believe me if I say it’s not as you think. She’s not always comfortable in dresses and, as you may guess, prefers slacks over skirts in general.”

As he finished his explanation, the pair passed by one of the large windows that granted them a clear image of the garden. Before he could continue, however, his eyes caught glimpse of something—or rather, someone.

“I’m well aware of her preferences, but her figure is—Asra?”

Nadia stopped herself mid-sentence, as the magician brought his right index to his lips, a secretive smile telling her to keep quiet. She followed him when he gestured her to, getting silently on the balcony that oversaw the garden. 

There, oblivious of the audience she got, Badr was crouching on the ground, bare-foot, fixing her handmade anklets before standing up. She was wearing the dress Nadia gave her, much to the Countess’ surprise.

Before the two could say or do anything, the dark haired magician started to move, her eyes closed as she danced on inaudible notes. The dress’ ends fluttering around. Each step and movement was executed fluidly, with a elegance so unexpected that the Nadia could only observe the show with delight.

She knew there was more than the usual frown and sharp words, but now Badr’s reminded her of the willow tree in the maze, flexible and gracious, swaying at the wind. 

“See? I think she likes it. She just wasn’t ready to wear it.” Asra’s voice was only a murmur and got a simple nod as answer.

*

Each step she took felt like growing closer and closer with the elements themselves. Even if the contact lasted only a few moments, she could feel grass and soil under her feet, a spark of life reverberating around her. 

Earth was her mother and her home, her first prayer in the morning and last at night. If she focused enough, she could feel the light thrumming coming from the ground--life at its most natural, purest form--and that alone had always the power to make her relax, even after a stressing day in the city.

As much as Asra tried to teach her his element, water couldn’t just become as important to her as earth was since her birth.

It didn’t take long for her to notice the lingering stares from the balcony--her magic sensed the familiar presence of her mentor, together with one which she still wasn’t totally accustomed to. Her friendship with Nadia was still something she could work on, but nonetheless the endless kindness of the noble host was something Badr wanted to treasure. Not because of the gifts she received, but simply because she felt the woman’s honest and good intentions.

People like her were hard to come by, in all times. Badr wanted to treasure their relationship.

She held out her hands as an invite to join her--much to Asra’s surprise--and the three of them danced and danced and danced, with no real music guiding them other than the pace set from one and each of them. Bard couldn’t recall how much time had passed since they started, but soon enough Nadia excused herself to go back to her duties. Her mentor, Asra, followed like a few more minutes, after telling her to try and not exhaust herself too much--which was funny: after all that moving, Badr just felt even more energized than before.

Still barefoot, the Apprentice walked around and in the little maze surrounding the familiar fountain she used some time before to get in touch with Asra. She didn’t feel like going back inside yet; the energy she felt from her dance before, the vivid aura she could feel around her even there, made leaving very difficult, after all. It still wasn’t like taking a walk in the woods outside Vesuvia where her dearest familiar lived, but it was something.

Luckily, even the obnoxious selfishness and the poor style the later Count had couldn’t completely erase the nature from the castle. That, or it was all Nadia’s merit. Unsurprisingly, Badr tended to the latter.

A chuckle left her lips--she felt no guilt in talking, or thinking, bad of Lucio. From what she heard and saw, he was not a nice person, nor one she could get along with. She’d rather punch him in the face, probably--but that would have to wait, anyway. For the moment, the Apprentice was rather satisfied with simply resting in her favorite element.

*

A few hours later, Asra went back to find her before it became too dark outside, only to find her leaning back on the willow tree near the fountain. Her aura, as he could see, still was saturated with natural energy: it thrummed pleasingly around her in such a way that he could see the surroundings echoing with it, albeit more silently. 

He sometimes wondered if  Badr knew how strong her magic could become if she kept linking herself to the elements like she did that day. That is, if she knew what she was doing. It wouldn’t be the first time she pulled something like that, following the way her instinct and magic itself laid out for her, so it was a fair doubt he had.

Honestly, his dearest was either incredibly intuitive or unbelievably lucky sometimes.

That was his last thought before he walked up to her sleeping form, ready to wake her up.

choirs from above [cowt10 | week 07 | m6]

Prompt: Le sinfonie celestiali

Word count: 320
Rating: sfw
Fandom: Originale
Note: Potrebbe avere poco senso per molti.

---

Un coro di armonie riecheggiava nell'aria, insieme alle campanelle consacrate ben strette da dita affusolate, scosse con perfetta cadenza dagli angeli custodi.

Distanti dal tempo che tanto portava agonia nelle menti e negli spiriti dei fedeli, cori di voci verosimilmente divine accompagnavano la marcia verso l'altare ove il passaggio avrebbe trovato termine ed il rito il suo compimento. 

Lungo il selciato, a piedi nudi ma noncuranti del terriccio che marchiava le piante di essi, la marcia non si arrestava minimamente. La lunga fila di corpi che, lentamente ma inesorabilmente, si avviavano a percorrere il sentiero dei sacrifici sembrava estendersi a perdita d'occhio, all'infinito ed oltre le ombre che definivano il loro orizzonte.

Ciò che giaceva "al di là" di esse era qualcosa in cui i Mortali non avrebbero dovuto immergersi, ma che con lo scorrere del tempo aveva finito col divenire parte della loro quotidianità: il Male, il Peccato, ciò che poteva essere definito come contrario all'infinita bontà Divina ed alla Provvidenza che tutti guidava; tali erano i nemici che le creature più simili al Creatore dovevano affrontare, durante le loro esistenze terrene.

Simbolicamente, il loro abbandonare le ombre ed i falsi idoli che tanto a lungo li avevano distolti dalla retta via e, al contempo, l'avviarsi lungo un percorso lento e continuo di purificazione da quella ignava corruzione, rappresentavano la fine della loro condanna e l'inizio della redenzione stessa. 

Non si trattava tanto di una scelta, quanto più di un obbligo se il loro desiderio era quello di trovare pace ed una vita oltre la Fine. Un obbligo che, effettivamente, veniva incoraggiato e favorito dalla sinfonia angelica che riempiva il silenzio altrimenti opprimente della marcia.

(Nessuno dei peregrinanti in cerca di redenzione conosceva la realtà oltre la meravigliosa bugia, oltre le promesse di salvezza--agnelli sacrificali, offerti in sacrificio per un bene superiore--poichè così era stato stabilito. L’ignoranza ne avrebbe salvato la coscienza, prima che la loro anima andasse perduta.