#g1deon
Imagine being Gideon the First. The Saint of Duty, the Emperor’s Fist, Hand and Gestures of God, the King Undying. You’ve been alive for 10,000 years, and hey, you’ve done some things you aren’t proud of. So what?
And then this 5-foot-nothing lobotomized 12 year old suddenly appears on your space station, carting around the soul of what may or may not be your kid. And they’re going to kill God. So you try and stop it a few (dozen) times, each unsuccessful because that tit Mercymorn keeps saving her life. You’ve tried everything, even busting through her freshly reapplied blood wards (which, although aren’t much for you, are kinda impressive) and stabbing her in the bath. You two are graduating to full-on warfare at this point. She feeds you soup made from her own fucking bone marrow to form a fully-articulated skeleton like the osseo she is, right in your stomach like some horrible calcified xenomorph.
And she keeps calling you Ortus.
Gideon the First, Saint of Duty being like:
