Of Gods and Wrath

It is quite interesting how life twists and turns. How things you could never have imagined suddenly come to pass, and you make conscious decisions that merely days earlier you would have just scoffed and stared in disbelief at. I have sought much in my life. So very much. First I sought contentment. Peace with my lot in life. The sheer pain of the wrath and hatred building within me killed that off quite soon. No… there would be no contentment or peace with being a slave. Property. My kind doesn’t allow for that. Not those who would receive the Horned Mask during the Voluval.

Then I sought freedom. No peace or contentment there either. But there was purpose. Oh, how the fires burned within.  How the desire for freedom seared my veins with every beat of my heart. I didn’t get it, of course. All I got was more and more hatred. Punishments. Shame. One less limb. I wonder how much that has affected me. How that molded me. Knowing that my own mother went running to confess my… eheh… sins. Knowing that my father held me down as I lost my arm. How I’ve felt little but hate for both my spineless parents since I was just a young girl.

Then… I gained freedom. Not peace or contentment, but freedom. Lost another limb, but that was a joyous event. Losing it the very day the shuttle lifted off, the pain and terror of the moment overshadowed by the knowledge that I had for the last time laid eyes on the world that had failed to turn me into just another faceless and spineless slave. Doesn’t matter if it was due to me dying or me gaining freedom. At least it was not slavery any more. Never again.

But it didn’t help much. I didn’t have anything in common with my people. Living with my tribe… the clan that took me in and taught me. Showed me my heritage. My blood. I knew it all, and understood. And I tried… but I didn’t have the same upbringing. I didn’t have the connection they did to who we are and who we should be. And they understood, just like I did… And it made it all the worse, to be welcomed but so distant. No peace… no contentment… but a good place to let the hatred for my earlier years fester and grow stronger. Especially after my Voluval so eloquently showed I wouldn’t have been someone to get close to anyway. I sought connection… I found within me… acceptance and strength. And a well of hatred.

What did I seek next? Oblivion. Oh how I must have disappointed the capsuleer who’d taken pity on me, and funded me through school and got me a decent life. Drugs and sex. The seedy underbelly that’s everywhere, if you just know where to look, or stumble in the right direction had welcomed me with open arms. If it hadn’t been for him… Thrakmar… I don’t think I would have stayed lucid enough to get through the education. Survived it either, for that matter. He saved my life that day I lost my eyesight. Granted, I saved his as well, and we both saved the entire station. And instead of oblivion, I received a new purpose. A much stronger one, fueled by my hatred. The destruction of all those who would turn free Matari into slaves, or supported those who had held our people in bondage for seven hundred years.

Life as a capsuleer was predictable. How many hundreds of thousands lie broken behind me, as I walk forwards? Dead or dying. How many have I gleefully killed, while posing as a mere miner, tearing apart asteroids with my mind? How many have I sought to kill or destroy within the Empire’s own space, while tossing bribes around to make sure the law doesn’t get in my way? Doesn’t matter. It’s not enough, not yet. I needed more power. And I got it.

Du’uma Fiisi held my loyalty. They took me in, and I flew beside them. Not massive fleets. Not someone you’d look up into the sky and cry out at as the sun is darkened by our massive vessels. No… small ships. Fast ships. Dangerous. We struck suddenly and with precision, destroying, grabbing what we wanted and then disappearing into the shadows. Du’uma Fiisi… the knife flashing in the darkness then disappearing, leaving a bloodtrail for a few steps. Terror was our main weapon, and it worked. A million souls in our hands, Matari by blood, Amarr by rearing. And seven hundred thousand released into the Republic, knowing they were truly free. Three hundred thousand who might as well have been Ammatar dying peacefully after a penstroke had come across a termination order.

But it’s not enough. It was never enough. I struck personally. I grabbed one single slave… and freed her. The consequences… who could ever have imagined the consequences? Face to face with not only Holders… but capsuleer Holders. Locking horns with those as powerful as myself, just as filled with rage and determination. Oh, how glorious it was. How we traded blows. How we destroyed each-other utterly. How both sides rebuilt themselves to fit into the new reality of their existence. How sparks were lit that would grow into fires none could have predicted.

She changed. She’s turned. She’s not of my conviction, not yet. May never be. But she’s mine, nonetheless. As a lover. As my CEO. Maybe  more, down the line. I will protect her, because she’s now both someone I genuinely care for, and because she’s the provider of the tools I need to continue my purpose. I have changed so much, letting her glance beneath my mask. I have changed so much, maneuvering in the circles I now move in. I have retained my purpose without fail… because now I have power far beyond what I’ve had in the past.

As I stare through the viewport of a Battleship, watching the other dropships hurtle down through the atmosphere of the latest target, I grin to myself. This is where I will be, because this is where all I seek lies. Acceptance of who and what I am… and the power to act on my purpose. The other dropships land, disgorging troops who with deadly efficiency tear through a Holder’s estates and defenses. We don’t have much time. Just enough to finish the job and leave, before the Navy comes to his defense. The estates’ defenses are down. Slaves are being herded onto the shuttles he so thoughtfully provided.  They lift off, leaving behind the slaves my agent has informed me are too far gone to be broken away from their willing submission to slavery.

I laugh into the night, seeing a video transmission from the surface of the planet as chaos reigns down there. The dropships are gathered up and the fleet stands ready to leave for the deprogramming facilities set up for these slaves. My second in command, who so rarely sees me outside the pod – why be in the pod for this? No battles in space, today, unless things go horribly wrong. – comes to me and informs me of what I already know. He’s nervous. He doesn’t want to face the Navy.

“Commence orbital bombardment. Focus on the slave quarters and Holder estates. Maximum dispersal.”

I think he almost wet himself. There were still thousands of slaves down there. Amarr civilians as well. Even the Holder was still alive in his saferoom. If he relayed that order, that would change. He stammered a protest, but quickly fell silent as I turned to just look at him. I smile pleasantly at him until he just bows, shivering and walks off to obey me.

Oh yes… I can definitely get used to this. The Disciples of Night hold much power. One of them being absolute safety from the Empire in lawless space. The other is manpower. A third is financial power. In short… I can bring down the Empire, given enough time. Oh, how much I learned in Du’uma Fiisi… but oh how much more impact I have, applying those teachings with the sheer power afforded to me in my new position.

I look out through the viewport again, as the 1400mm artillery starts firing on the planet and I laugh as the willing slaves and slavers both perish in the firestorm.

“Thou callest  me a Beast before thou hadst cause, but since I am a Beast, beware my fangs.”

She’s awake. I’m tired.

I never thought I’d be a protector. I am a destroyer. I am fire to be directed at an enemy. I am punishment upon a criminal.  I am divine retribution upon a sinner. And now… I am protecting the one who destroyed me. The enemy who struck at me. The criminal who stole what lies within me. The sinner who sinned against herself, and all who would be free.

She lies here… broken. Her body shattered under the furious fists of her sister. Tubes running into her. Monitors all around her, taking readings of all her vitals and nervous system. An ever-present electronic hum around her. And here I am… sitting next to her, holding her hand in mine, whispering sweet words of safety, protection, fondness… even a few words of love.

And protection it is. At first it was my fleet… then it was hers… Ithiria had sent a fleet from Disciples of the Night, given all the command codes to Gherena as they landed, so she could take command of it. A Rattlesnake leading a golden fleet. Protecting this very station. And in here? Only me. I can’t sleep. Not yet. I haven’t slept since I first met her. I think it’s turning me insane. But still… I can’t sleep.

I will protect her. When she awakens, I will take her to the Masquerade, if she so chooses. And there, she will be even safer than here. She will heal in safety, that much I swear. And until then… here I will be, whispering my words of safety, fondness and love.

Until she wakes. And destroys me again.

She has knelt again. Been collared again. When I was told, I almost imagined I had felt it across the vastness of space. When I was told, I certainly felt it. The few hopes I had allowed myself, crushed as my heart collapsed in on itself. All the work I had done to turn the Masquerade into a possible home for when she returned to one of us… pointless. Empty. Hollow.

So very predicted and exactly what I had expected.

I couldn’t even make myself feel. The Mask had slipped on already. An old friend, already knowing what I needed, it had slipped on and hidden everything beneath it. I would feel it all… in time. Probably if I ever saw her face again. Until then, though.. I would be who I always was, now.

Mizhara Del’thul

Carrier of the Horned Mask

Terror

I sat down upon the throne and gazed over the halls as the mortals shivered.

And I laughed.

She had docked at the Masquerade, the docking manager who she only knew as Scotty raised his eyebrows as he had thought he’d never see her again. Lady Kaelali Teran, Holder and former slaver. Once seen fairly often at the Masquerade, but now it was thought that had come to and end, along with the fire that had separated her and Mizhara Del’thul. He looked her in the eyes and realized it might still have.

She nodded to him before she walked the familiar path through the asteroid, entering the main hall as she marveled at how fast the crews were working. Few traces remained of the fire that had burned. It was still fairly empty, and the transport ships she had seen outside had yet to unload the trappings needed to dress up this main hall once more, but considering the damage incurred, it was remarkable indeed. Her eyes didn’t have much time to wander, as she spotted Her. Her breath caught at the sight of who had been her Mistress. Who was now… someone else. Still the same woman… not the same woman. Changed by the fires burning within, even though the ones outside it hadn’t touched her. Or perhaps they had. She noticed a bulletwound on her right foot, and it seemed both the prosthetics had taken damage. Repaired, but scarred.

And Mizhara saw her as well. Her face for a moment remained frozen, cold and slightly cruel, before it thawed with an obvious effort. A small smile greeted Kaelali as she waved her over, from the throne. That was new, apparently. Hewed from stone instead of metals. Can’t burn or melt, perhaps. It suited her. Kaelali inhaled deeply, steeling herself for what she was about to do. She quickly joined Mizhara, then knelt before her, slight pain and fear on her face.

“Mist… Mizhara. I… ” She faltered. She couldn’t speak. The words were there. The desires, the needs, the wants, the pain and the grief. All there… and they fought eachother, leaving Kaelali speechless. Oh how she wanted to explain. To make Mizhara understand, that she needed this. That in this time of grief and sorrow, and even beyond, she needed someone to serve. To care for, guide and teach, as she too would be cared for, guided and taught. And that the one to do it… would be Ithiria Deritan. The one who had done this to Mizhara. To Kaelali. Fear and despair clutched at her heart as she tried to speak, but could only produce slight sobs and tears.

She gasped as two fingers rested under her chin, lifting her gaze up to see Mizhara on her own knees before her. A small and sad smile on her lips. “I know, child. I can’t give you what you need. Not anymore. I can’t give you what you want. And you do need it, child. You need it, because I have taken from you the illusions you lived under. The denial. You surfaced before me, and you now know what you are. I did this to you, and now that I have failed in protecting you from the universe’s evil… You must seek another. I understand. Do not cry, for either of us.”

The pain went away, briefly. The turmoil and despair lifted as she gazed upon Mizhara, feeling the understanding and guidance she had craved. But not enough of it. Not the kind that could be given only by a Mistress to her submissive. This was that of a close friend. Enough to give her the courage and strength needed to move on, until she could find what she needed. She could finally speak, and did so as a wave of shame went through her body. “It is…. Ithiria.”

Mizhara’s eyes briefly flashed with fire. Her small smile growing stiff and cold, for a few long moments as her eyes narrowed. It returned and thawed once more, but this time… a little less. “Why?”

“She… I… She is all I know, besides you. And she needs me, now, I believe. You have both lost so much now. You have lost me, as I lost you. She has lost others as well. And she has given up so much… her slaves. Her right to decide within the Empire. All that was safe and well known to her as a Holder, she has given away. And she doesn’t have you to teach her… to guide her… to show how it can be done. To help her avoid the crushing weight of a broken faith as the universe shifts around her. I… think I can do for her, what you did for me. Differently, but with the same goal. Oh, how I wanted vengeance upon her. But… I think the best kind would be this. To teach her. To serve her, and see to her needs. Perhaps… she will become someone who would not be responsible for something like this, again.”

She faltered, faded out, trailed off… Her shame for so quickly losing her strength, needing another so soon battling her desire for it. “Will you… will you take my collar, and hold it in memory of me? In memory of all that you have done for me. Everything you have done for my people? I… will carry it all in my heart, with endless gratitude. Please…”

Mizhara didn’t speak. She just stared at Kaelali for a minute, fairly deep in thought. Most others used to be unnerved by this dead gaze, but Kaelali had learned to love it. To desire it, as it meant she was given utter attention and scrutiny, and would then get what she needed, even if not what she wanted. Mizhara still didn’t speak, but so very gently rolled away the silk around the necklace, the collar, and put it on the stone between them. Then she leaned in to kiss Kaelali’s forehead, as her hands gently released the collar and carefully put it down on the silk.

“You are free to seek whoever you wish, desire or need, my dearest Kaela. You are free to seek what you desire. What you need. I can never release my hatred for Ithiria. I can never forgive her for what she has done to so many. But I can give her what she needs. And I agree with you. What she needs… is you. All I ask, is that you carry with you what I have given. And that you will forever be free. That… is my only condition, and I know you will adhere to it, forever. Go, Kaelali. Leave now… go to who you are seeking, with my blessing and well wishes. The Masquerade will always be open to you, even though you can not serve as you once did.”

The pain surged through Kaelali’s body as the collar came off. She couldn’t believe how much it hurt, almost as if someone ripped a part of her soul from within her. The pain, however, was also battled and restrained by the joy of Mizhara’s understanding and care. Part of her grief lifting from her shoulder, giving her an elating feel of weightlessness. Freedom. She let her tears flow as she embraced the young woman before her, not as a Mistress, but as someone she loved dearly nonetheless. As she was embraced in turn, she could only whisper. “Thank you…”

She turned and ran. She couldn’t tell if she was running from something, or running towards something, but the collar was off and she had to run. It was what she wanted and needed, so run she would. She didn’t look back, but entered the shuttle at a run as Scotty raised his eyebrow once more at her speed. He didn’t waste much time, and had the shuttle given priority clearance within five seconds, shunting the various cargoshuttles into a holding pattern as he watched it take off and leave.

Mizhara held the silk cloth in her hands, studying the collar laying on it as she nodded slowly to herself.

“An ending. A beginning. And all we can truly have of our past… is a memory.”

She left the main hall and went to her quarters, to find a place for this treasured memory to stay safe.

She’ll be fine.

Her sister will be an unholy terror upon those who would hurt her, and she herself is becoming more dangerous to her enemies every day that passes. Who she truly are, will have to be seen in time. She now had the strength to cut herself off. To not be with either of us. No servitude to me. No servitude to Ithiria. This terrifies me. She needs someone to love. To care for. To be guided and cared for by. But she can handle it.

After all, she shot me a few times. Whoever thought it was a good idea to dial up the neural response from the prosthetics was an idiot. Was probably me, now that I think about it. A price I was all too willing to pay. I was right, though. I don’t think she was very, heh, fond of me when she left. Shot me in my foot… broke my prosthetic too…  all to get me on my knees. Didn’t expect anything less, after doing what I did to Ithiria.

And I smiled. Every bullet. Every word from her. She’ll be fine. She threw her collar at my feet, before she turned and left. My beautiful Carmilla. My dangerous snakebearer. My destroyer. My savior, in fact. If I hadn’t been able to focus so purely on her, I don’t think I could have held the madness at bay for long enough. Long enough that the Horned Mask could gather it all and hide it behind itself.

I can function now. I can quell the fire and madness while I think. While I plan. While I execute. It’ll take so much more to be rid of it, but for now, this will do. As I came to the Masquerade again, I realized what I had to do. She’s going away now. She’s going to fight. Fight until the anger within her is consumed.

And she will return. To where, to who…. who knows?

But if it is here, the Masquerade will be ready. It will be a home for her, if she wishes it. It will be our place. Perhaps… perhaps this was all just a beginning. All this horror. This pain. This terror and sorrow inflicted upon so many… perhaps it was just the beginning. She was Ithiria’s last slave, but her Holdings remain. She will have much work ahead of her. With my agents watching. I doubt Carmilla loves either of us much right now, but she’ll love again. Who will she love? New stories. New sorrows? The beginning is now past. It is time to continue. To once more walk the path of terror until slavery is ended across the cluster.

I sit down on the new throne they carved from the very stone of the asteroid. I survey my world… and I start laughing.

Let us bring down the Wrath of God.

The last word was said. She was unconscious, bleeding and crippled at my feet. Naked. Why would she be naked, I wondered? No real reason, except vulnerability. Either way… I had found her, and everything I had planned to do was in ruins. Ithiria… surrendering in her own way. But no… She didn’t surrender. This is as hard as I’ve ever seen her fight. Sacrificing memory. Sacrificing life… even temporarily. Well, would have, had the mask not kept the madness at bay. But who’s madness, this time?

She had faced me. Alone. Unprotected. Silly, really. Four bullets… incapacitated, bleeding and pained. Mine to do with as I wished. Oh how wrong she was. Wasn’t going to repent to me. Wouldn’t be taken alive. Wouldn’t have been her choice, and everyone breaks. I would have spent months making her scream until she had finally begged forgiveness for each of her sins. Not too hard.

I would have too… if it hadn’t been for Carmilla. What she did to me, I will not do to her. I will not do to her, what Ithiria did to Kaelali. Strange, how this woman is so secure… and yet so very insecure. So terrified that Carmilla would have found my teachings to have somehow broken their bond. Broken their love. “You took from me my love! It was not your choice! I was her Domme, I should have taught her! My own way!” Well, Ithiria… then you should have done it before someone… better at it… did it for you. You were too slow. Too entranced and content with the way things were.

Vile scum. Almost as vile as I am. Too bad she’ll never grasp just how evil she is.

She had had her memories taken away. Didn’t even know who Carmilla was, not to mention where she was. Doesn’t matter. I’ll find her. Two options at this point. Doctor Leander, and Victor Ballentyne. One I know has information about Carmilla, if not the whereabouts… the other claims to have information, but seems to wish to play with me.

Perhaps I’ll let the mask slip once or twice. Show them that playing games with a madwoman means there are no rules.

They flow together in my mind. Misan. Carm. Nothing similar about them. Almost polar opposites. And yet… when I think of one, I see half of the other. And oh how it burns. I’ve spent how long now, lying there in that cell? Just staring into thin air, keeping the faces of those I love and care for in my mind, to slow down the descent into murderous madness. All except one… all except Carmilla. Or so I thought. It took a while to notice, but after a while, Misan’s beautiful smile… her beautiful colors… her soul… it wasn’t just hers anymore. I saw parts of Carmilla there.

I almost screamed in terror. I couldn’t let her take that away from me to. Not Misan. I forced them apart, once more. I focused on every feature of Misan’s face… I focused on every emotion I’d seen on Carmilla’s. And suddenly… I couldn’t see her clearly either. I think of Carmilla, and I see part of Misan. I think of Misan and I see part of Carmilla.

It burned faster. I was losing control again. Until… until Kaela.

Gods and spirits, how hurt she must be from this. How terrified. How grieving. I am the one who taught her. I am the one she’s grown so dependant on. I… am no more. I can never be the one she wants, needs, desires and lives for… ever again. That one died. Was replaced. I could see it in her eyes as she came for me. As she knelt. In her eyes… she didn’t kneel out of want, need or desire… she knelt out of fear. How many lives are destroyed by now? For one little slaver girl.

I focused on Misan and Carmilla’s faces… it was the only way I could see the whole of either, as what was missing from one appeared on the other. Until the message. Until I saw the datapad she held before me. Until I knew. Suddenly both of them had collars… leashes… And they melded together and screamed in desperation.

And so did I. I don’t know where Kaela went. I blacked out. All I saw was the horror and pain on Carmisan’s face… I was finally mad. Finally I had reached the depths of madness and hit bottom. Or so I thought… the bottom slid away, opened, let me fall again… and Misan and Carmilla’s faces faded away. I looked down… and I smiled. There she was. The one I needed. She filled my vision, letting me see nothing else. Pale skin. Dead white eyes. A cruel cold grin. The other side of madness. The Horned Mask.

I managed to slip the mask on… taking tentative steps at thinking… deciding… caring…

I couldn’t. That’s okay, she’ll help me. She’ll be me, when it’s needed. The madness will be there, behind the mask, shown when it slips. Still… I should be able to do this… or if I can’t… I won’t care.  The Stormbringer… no… new name… Firestorm…

It will bring me to her. We will face each other… I wonder if the mask will hold?

Either way, the fires are gone, for now. I rose from the ashes they left behind. Burned. Scarred. Mad from the fires. But the mask will hide me, long enough that I can show them all that fire also purifies. It burns away the weakness. Let’s hope the madness doesn’t gain too much control of the strength it left behind.

She walked the halls of her estates with her eyes on the ground in front of her. Servants and workers dedicated to keep the Estates in top condition for her family passed her by, bowing as they did so. She didn’t even raise her eyes to acknowledge them. This pained her a little, but she couldn’t make herself summon the will for it. She remembered what she thought of as her old life. A life in what she now knew was sin. This was normal then. Why would you acknowledge the existence of property? You might as well acknowledge the wardrobe in your quarters with a nod each morning. Now… it pained her to act like this, but she quite simply couldn’t summon the effort.

And the worst thing was that none blamed her. None even thought to blame her. The banner flying over the estates proclaimed to all of her Holdings that the family was grieving. None knew for certain who had been lost. Most of the family didn’t know. But what no one was questioning, was that whoever it was had apparently meant the world to Lady Kaelali Teran, Holder and servant of all within her domain. And yet… it hurt.

She had taught her well. Taught her the error of her ways, and the truth of the crimes and horrors she was responsible for. All in the name of Amarr superiority and the twisted and darkened interpretations of the Words. And She had… loved her.. after a fashion. God’s mercy… she had loved her back, even after everything she had endured. Suffered. She still couldn’t be certain why. Was it the unrelenting drive to rid New Eden of the evils of slavery? She didn’t think so. Was it the gentle care provided to ensure her punishments didn’t interfere with her tasks and duties? Possibly… but that would apply to dogs as well.

She went with ‘because she tells the truth’. It was a reason as good as any. Kaelali Teran, the slaveholder who thought she had served God and the Empire had railed against it. Fought it. Resisted it with rage, conviction and prayer… and she had broken. The truth had ripped past her denial and twisted faith to reveal her stained and blackened soul. The pain of that had been so much worse than anything done to her body or mind beforehand. Seventy-nine years of being a Holder, and suddenly having your entire life turn out to be a vile and disgusting crime… a violation of humanity and the souls of each held in bondage…

She had almost been catatonic. No denial to shield her. No justifying faith. No superiority or false perspective painting the other races as less than human. Just pure, raw, unvarnished truth… and it had seared. It had burned.

She had held her. Three days on end, without pause, she had held Kaelali against herself as she had sobbed and cried, wailed and moaned as the realizations kept hitting her naked and already bruised soul. She had whispered comforting words, and stroked her head… and she soothed her. For no other reason than that Kaelali needed it. Sometimes Kaelali had slept fitfully, as exhaustion took over. The nightmares were horrible, but through it all the horror had been lessened by the whispered words… “The truth hurts… but it also cleanses. Be strong… I am here.”

As the days came to an end, Kaelali finally drained of all pain and sorrow for what she had done… no… not drained. Just numbed, exhausted… incapable of taking it anymore… She had looked up at the woman who had held her without pause for three days, expecting the scorn and hate she surely deserved. And She had smiled. “Now you are ready… Sleep now, child. Tomorrow, we shall teach you all that you must know, and together we will have you atone for your sins and crimes. You are past the worst… from here on out, you will know the truth, and it will strengthen your resolve.”

New tears had welled up in Kaelali’s eyes as infinite gratitude welled up inside her. She had embraced the young woman who called her child, and held her tightly as Her soothing words had started anew, slowly lulling her into sleep. This time… without the nightmares.

Three months later she had returned to her estates. A new strength in her step and determination on her face. Her family had almost panicked as they realized their seize of power was rather premature, a lesson taught quite firmly as she had led the estate guard to oust all the vultures and leeches that had attached themselves to the Holdings.

They certainly panicked when they learned her intent. Within a week, there was not a single slave on her Holdings. Some had left, others had remained… but none were slaves still. Oh, the panicked debates and terror from her family as they envisioned the ruins that would be left of the Holdings. And she had faced it all with the same calm She had shown her. She had taught the family. Shown them the new infrastructures. The new financial governing. The restructured and heavily modernized manufacturing and trade facilities. No one knew where the vast fortunes needed to do all of these reforms at once came from, but none could deny they worked. Slavery was abolished on her Holdings… and the flourished. The yearly income was almost thought to be doubled, due to the new trade arrangements and firm grasp on the markets was established. This lead to even more new investments, and now… six months after her return… the Holdings were stronger and more powerful than ever before.

And there was not a single guard or soldier left. No slaves. No overseers. No terror and horror that wasn’t already innate to any human society. And she was Holder Kaelali Teran, Empire loyalist, Sarumite… and hailed by the Matari on her estates and Holdings as ‘the Liberator’. And she had smiled and shook her head slowly. She was not the liberator. That honor felt to… Her…

She barely reached the chapel, slamming the door shut behind her before she fell to her knees in front of the altar and the sobs overtook her. Her body shook and curled up on itself as her grief once more held her in a firm grip. She had lost her. Lost her forever. Yes, She was alive, somewhere. Her kind didn’t die. Immortal, in their own way. But that cursed evil woman had still managed to take her away from Kaelali. Destroyed, not her body, but her mind. Lit the fires of hell within her heart and blood, threatening to consume all that She touched.

Kaelali had seen the body. The bulletwound entering the chin and exiting… she couldn’t even imagine it. She had shot herself in the head to douse the fire before it got beyond control. Before the cluster itself caught on fire. Somewhere within the Masquerade, She now hid. Hid from those who would burn on the fire that now smoldered instead of seared. And never again would Kaelali see that beautiful cold smile that hid the care and guidance bestowed so readily upon her.

Never again would she serve her Mistress. The one who had taught her how a Holder were not rulers without question. They were rulers who served their subjects. Administrated. Guided. Listened to and cared for. That was what a Holder was… a servant to those beneath the Holder’s feet. Kaelali had finally understood.. and she had learned to the surprise of even the one who’d be her Mistress that this is what she was made for. This was how she was happiest… when she served.

Kaelali ripped off the black silk covering the necklace… no, it only appeared to be a necklace. She grasped the collar with both hands, wailing her grief as the one who had once given it to her would never again smile down on her as Kaelali had performed a task well enough to be rewarded. Never again would she be punished and disciplined painfully by her Mistress, then thank her with joy in her heart for being given the guidance and help to understand her faults. Never again…

Never again should Holder Ithiria Deritan be allowed to commit such a grievous crime. Never again should she be allowed to enslave others. Never again should someone know this horrific grief borne by her actions.

She let go of the collar, leaving it in plain sight for God to see as she looked up at the stained glass window, tears streaming down her cheeks.

“Never again…”

I am editing away this post. Not because it’s less relevant, or because it’s obvious capability to raise questions. It simply doesn’t belong here as such. It’s me venting the anger at the disparity between ideologies and their viability within balanced roleplay. It’s not conducive to proper debate, as it’s full of harsh words, and ‘definite’ statements that while true as far as I can tell… is a bit hard to swallow.

Those who have read it, and commented knows what it held. The product of a roleplayer pushed to the point where the character in question loses it’s viability within roleplaying, without changing it to the point where it’s no longer the same character.

If any of those who read it wish to comment on it, or have actual debate on the points, I invite you all to Backstage@Inspiracy to create the debate. I will read, and answer, without the weight of an angry rant crushing it’s ability to shed light on issues between roleplayed archetypes and ideologies.

Thank you all for reading the blog so far, and it’ll not End. But barring unexpected events… I am not sure it can be a blog for Mizhara Del’thul. We will have to see.