Aviel has done something very bad. He knows he has - he’s committed an unforgivable act. He’s wavered in his devotion. It was just for a moment as he wondered - would such a benevolent and kind god truly subject me to such hardships? Would such a true and dear god subject this poor village to month after month of failed crop?
The thought seems to pop up against his will, and he quickly clears it from his mind as he drops to his knees to repent. The thought is evil - how could it be anything but, if he’s questioning the god who makes the flowers bloom and the sun rise? The god who gave him his dear sister Lucille?
He ignores the way his knees scream out in pain, the way the skin has started to peel off his lips from so many whispered prayers. He ignores the pain from the way the beads of his rosary dig into his hands. He ignores the way his joints are sore from so many hours spent with his head bowed to you, and he ignores the blood on his knees from how long he’s been knelt here.
And it pays off, because he can feel the way everything changes, the way time nearly comes to a skidding halt, the way his soul bows to you in subservience. Almost against his will, his lips part as he starts, “Hello, your grace.”
He doesn’t dare to look up - does not dare to behold your beauty. His eyes are squeezed shut, entire body trembling in terror. “I’m sorry, my God. I understand if you are here to smite me, to purge me from this world as a stain on your honor, a smudge in the spotless seas of your worshippers,” he whispers, brushing his blonde hair off his nape - leaving you a clear path to a strike he assumes is coming.
He’s a lamb to the slaughter, wholly devoted in his desire to please. “It would be an honor to be slain by you. A joy to be a sacrifice used for your glory.” He draws a small dagger from his hip, and he offers it up to you in the palms of his hands, head still bowed in reverence. “Thank you for gracing me with your presence, O' Holy One."