Grim Views

A large, red bag sits in view of those who need to see it, tied with a bow a little too pretty for the purpose of the trial. Armi is nowhere to be seen, however, there's only a rolled letter in her stead.

To whom it may concern:

I have no idea if you are going to open the bag before you read this, or after. If you looked before, then you spoiled yourself. Shame on you.

I lead a life, mostly, of running away and coming back. My past is my failure, believing too much that there was another way than constant never ending war. I spent a lot of time alone, well, without any people anyway. I have spent a lot of time with plants and animals, or working on repairing my own gear and weapons. Had to get good at it somehow. I had one friend, who followed me when I ran away and stayed by my side when I tried to find a more peaceful solution. Found her in the snow, mom was killed so I took her. Trained her up right I think. In a lot of ways, I think she was the only one who believed in me back them. Nilheon was... well, dead by that time. My sisters thought I was a traitor.

They're dead now too, though, so jokes on them. Not Nilheon dead, like, never coming back dead.

Her, though. She has always given me unconditional love, even when I was a coward. She really shouldn't have, I needed a pretty stern talking to. I was high and mighty in my ivory tower. Thought I was better than most people. Thought I had it all figured out.

To be honest, I still think I have most of it figured out, but don't tell anyone, this is supposed to be a story of my humbleness.

That is why this was difficult. My punishment for my hubris is this, I think. When I heard about the trial, I already knew what I had to do. It's what I get - for turning my back on the truth.

So this my sacrifice, the one place I could go where I wouldn't be held accountable. I need to be held accountable. I'm ready to put things right, here with the Grim.

~Armi

Inside the bag, is a sharp, curved knife cakes in dried blood, another - smaller - note, and a large heart completely drained of blood. Easy to see by anyone who knows better that it's the heart of an older animal. The note is stained brown with blood, as though hastily written right after the sacrifice.

"What do you do with the sacrifices anyway? Do you guys even care about them or do you just chuck them in a bin, chuckling smugly? Who knows! Who cares? I don't know either. I'm a mess."

The note was easily written by someone who was unraveling over what they had to do. At the time, Armi figured they might want to know her mental state, so they would know just how much this affected her.

At the moment, however, she was currently burying her problems by building as many pairs of shoes as possible. She was currently sitting at eight.

Qabian sighed.

The heart wasn't looking so good after a few days sitting waiting for him to return. He briefly considered calling her in to make her eat it like the last heart someone had given him.

While there was little proof Armi's story was true, she seemed to at least have understood the intent of the exercise, and that was what mattered. Right?

He wasn't entirely sure of himself as he poked at the bag with the sharp end of his quill, leaving ink on it. He was going to need to come up with some way of storing these things. While the last Sacrifice had managed not to burden him with any object beyond the report, he had to conclude that they would never all be so tidy.

He set the note aside with the other reports with what seemed like it might become traditional Good. ~Q in the margin.

--

Later, he cleared off some of his myriad bookshelves, the ones directly behind the desk, observable to those who approached from the front, and covered them with glass. Behind the glass were set several displays, generally large enough to hold a skull, but no larger, and each display was labeled with a name. The oversized heart above Armi Aethertide's name shimmered with an edge of frost magic when an observer moved.