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"Supposedly, there was child sacrifice in times of famine," Addison replies with his brow furrowing thoughtfully at that question. "--And. I suppose now that sounds gruesome, but back then? It was probably a kinder fate to those kids to bleed them on an altar than to let them starve. Culling a percentage of the population that you couldn't feed so your civilization could survive." Addison then squints a little harder about this. He wrinkles his nose watching Apocalypto play out on the television screen in the hotel room Wovoka Jones was living out of.

"There's not a single civilization that hasn't fed people to gods since humanity has been around. Even White Christians burned women and, before that, crammed little girls into gold effigies, and drank the blood of Thomas Becket who was killed upon the on the altar of his own church." He glances over to Jones. "I suppose the distinction lays in who you're bleeding, to whom, and why."

"Lord knows I've killed plenty of people for this," chuckles Wovoka. Though it's a little nervous. "Do you think humanity invented the idea of feeding each other to the spirits? Or did one of the spirits ask for it? ...I guess it's one of those things that seems like it matters, but doesn't, not really. Doesn't change the work. I could fixate on the ambiguities all goddamn day but that won't show me where to cut."

Wovoka smiles, though not with his teeth, and shakes his head. "If I'm going to roll with Jaguar I need to learn to swallow that flinch."

Addison doesn't respond to that immediately. On the screen in front of them, Jaguar Paw kills Cut Rock, son of Zero Wolf and flees into the dense jungle.

"I'm not sure that is uniquely human." Addison finally replies. As he speaks he lifts his own hands, unfurling his boney pianist fingers to reveal the jagged laceration scars that bite into the lines of his palms. "In a way, if we are showing our devotion to the spirits at all we are feeding ourselves to them." A soft smile flickers across Addison's thin lips.

"Humanity has had a profound effect on the spiritual landscape, though. They've both given birth to new spirits, intentionally or unintentionally, and they have changed the old ones." Addison tells Wovoka before he takes his eyes off the screen. Though his glasses reflect images of Zero Wolf hunting his son's killer through the dense jungle, and Jaguar Paw eliminating each of his pursuers with desperate cunning, Addison's eyes and full focus seem to be on Jones.

"If you choose to follow Jaguar, if Jaguar sees you as worthy, you will do a lot of bleeding. Though..." He trails off here. Addison turns his eyes down. Deliberately pointing them on Wovoka Jones' artificial limb. A prosthetic of fiberglass where the was once flesh. A crude pincher claw where there was once a strong hand. "...feeding yourself to the spirits is nothing you haven't experienced before."

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Werewolf the Apocalypse characters.

One of those ill fated works that I lost so much work/data on after numerous crashes I just got sick of working on it. I had a pretty bad crash which corrupted the working file and destroyed the tattoo on the character on the right's back.

The Excerpt above isn't precisely indicative of this particular moment.

I guess I better draw them both in Crinos again at some point before I get booted for posting humans/homids in Werewolf groups.

Posted using PostyBirb

Description

[excerpt...]
...

...

...

"Supposedly, there was child sacrifice in times of famine," Addison replies with his brow furrowing thoughtfully at that question. "--And. I suppose now that sounds gruesome, but back then? It was probably a kinder fate to those kids to bleed them on an altar than to let them starve. Culling a percentage of the population that you couldn't feed so your civilization could survive." Addison then squints a little harder about this. He wrinkles his nose watching Apocalypto play out on the television screen in the hotel room Wovoka Jones was living out of.

"There's not a single civilization that hasn't fed people to gods since humanity has been around. Even White Christians burned women and, before that, crammed little girls into gold effigies, and drank the blood of Thomas Becket who was killed upon the on the altar of his own church." He glances over to Jones. "I suppose the distinction lays in who you're bleeding, to whom, and why."

"Lord knows I've killed plenty of people for this," chuckles Wovoka. Though it's a little nervous. "Do you think humanity invented the idea of feeding each other to the spirits? Or did one of the spirits ask for it? ...I guess it's one of those things that seems like it matters, but doesn't, not really. Doesn't change the work. I could fixate on the ambiguities all goddamn day but that won't show me where to cut."

Wovoka smiles, though not with his teeth, and shakes his head. "If I'm going to roll with Jaguar I need to learn to swallow that flinch."

Addison doesn't respond to that immediately. On the screen in front of them, Jaguar Paw kills Cut Rock, son of Zero Wolf and flees into the dense jungle.

"I'm not sure that is uniquely human." Addison finally replies. As he speaks he lifts his own hands, unfurling his boney pianist fingers to reveal the jagged laceration scars that bite into the lines of his palms. "In a way, if we are showing our devotion to the spirits at all we are feeding ourselves to them." A soft smile flickers across Addison's thin lips.

"Humanity has had a profound effect on the spiritual landscape, though. They've both given birth to new spirits, intentionally or unintentionally, and they have changed the old ones." Addison tells Wovoka before he takes his eyes off the screen. Though his glasses reflect images of Zero Wolf hunting his son's killer through the dense jungle, and Jaguar Paw eliminating each of his pursuers with desperate cunning, Addison's eyes and full focus seem to be on Jones.

"If you choose to follow Jaguar, if Jaguar sees you as worthy, you will do a lot of bleeding. Though..." He trails off here. Addison turns his eyes down. Deliberately pointing them on Wovoka Jones' artificial limb. A prosthetic of fiberglass where the was once flesh. A crude pincher claw where there was once a strong hand. "...feeding yourself to the spirits is nothing you haven't experienced before."

----------------------------------------------

Werewolf the Apocalypse characters.

One of those ill fated works that I lost so much work/data on after numerous crashes I just got sick of working on it. I had a pretty bad crash which corrupted the working file and destroyed the tattoo on the character on the right's back.

The Excerpt above isn't precisely indicative of this particular moment.

I guess I better draw them both in Crinos again at some point before I get booted for posting humans/homids in Werewolf groups.

Posted using PostyBirb