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[whichend]

[ Arya has practiced for this. The camera does not shake; she does not blink. She can give off no impression of weakness, of youth. What she is asking is not child's play. ]

As I am sure you already know, the gods of this city are seeking offerings. I shall be making an offering to the one who calls himself Fear. Those who give him an offering shall receive a blessing, should he deem it sufficient.

I have an offering. But I shall need some assistance in delivering it. If you are interested, please contact me.

[ She does not give a name. Her face, she figures, is enough. ]

1st - Voice

[swarm_embrace]

[Kerrigan is standing in front of Hope's altar, at first she was just going to rant at the 'god' at his altar, but since he apparently uses this as well.]

Are you listening, Hope? You'd better be, because I'm not going to repeat myself.

This is a foolish request you've made. Hope isn't something you can just make happen in people, it's not inherently in any object or word. A loaded gun might give hope to someone backed into a corner, but it's an object of fear for the person on their knees with one pointed at their head.

Some people have hope, and with even a tiny, insignificant thread of hope can move heaven and earth to make things happen. Hope, real hope, is something you find in yourself, or in other people, and you'll lose it if you don't do everything in your power to hold onto it, to make it real.

[There's a long pause while Kerrigan thinks about saying something else, but in the end she settles for addressing everyone else.]

As for the rest of you listening to this, there must be better things to do with your time than to play their little game.