Up until now, the idea of 'worthiness' hadn't been included in Solomon's reactions. At least, not consciously. He simply knew he'd been terrified and fascinated in not-quite-equal amounts, given how much the fascination had terrified him further. There hadn't been much room in Solomon's mind to question why.

Now the question was asked, it startled a short bark of laughter out of him, this one filled with a tumult of emotions--but at least not hysterical. Bitter, afraid, chagrined, sardonic, disbelieving, yes.

"Doesn't your God kill with kindness?" he asked, his voice still rough. "This feels more like punishment than absolution." The truth was, he felt more like he deserved punishment than he had in O'Reilly's church, for one reason. One reason only. "I don't think any man is worthy when they've been using their own--father's soul to fuel their power for centuries on end."

His voice cracked and he didn't dare look up, in the manner of a man who'd made a crushing realisation not too long ago. The bear trembled and the tag slipped out of his fingers. What did it mean, he wondered, that the tag was written in his writing and not his father's? What did it mean, that God should have given it that name at all? Even though Solomon had all but given it up, it felt like a censure to have it given to something else. Like salt in the wound.

No. Solomon had no such faith this was meant to be a comfort.