Why do you not love me?

In the meanwhile the dark-skinned slaves were bustling through the building as instructed, hauling cages of emaciated animals contained within.

Those of the larger variety were wheeled in transports of small purpose built carts. The very little were carried and set down in Catacomb Three - a place the Pope would often frequent and attend to his private Mass.

“Why do you not love me?” The aged Pope shrilled condemningly.

Mute, the animals blankly stared back - with a twitch and a growl, and a whimper. They were wet from the rain, and bitterly cold sitting on the bare stone floor. The wooden cages were cramped and the smell of each other offended one another.

“Who amongst you will join me? Who will come to me adoringly?”

One by one he unlatched the locks, watching the creatures as they fled to the furtherest side of the great room. Not one stayed, not one would kiss his hand.


-Gabriel Brunsdon, AZLANDER: NEVER ENDINGS: Second Chances