Saya was not religious but he did believe in god.
Self-belief was important, after all.
Why was God chained up in an unknown chamber by a man he wanted to kill, that sat in front of his divine eyes and was—fucking annoyingly—smiling?
Well, this beautiful shit birthed from inside a garbage dump. A trash can. The slums.
Saya's home.
###
"Fuck…" Saya whispered to himself, trying not to let disgust bleed onto his expression. Practice makes perfect. He'd become quite good at it these last couple years. But he didn't feel bad a speck that all this work would go to waste past tonight.
Wearing a fake smile on his face like every other day, Saya walked through the Stone Street to group with his crewmates, his path littered with piss puddles. Living here for the entire life, one would think they'd get used to the revolting stench that flowed so freely though the dirty air. And most times they'd be right. Not this time. Not for someone like him.
