Post by Ser Mehran S'Disraeli on Jun 30, 2008 9:52:43 GMT -5
[glow=green,2,300]Silly, stupid, tiny fool. Can't you do anything right?[/glow]
Shut up. Shut up! Just leave me alone.
[glow=green,2,300]But no one else will tell you what you are. So I will. You and I both see the way they look at you. They think you a failure. You should probably just disappear now.[/glow]
That's not true! They love me. I am needed.
[glow=green,2,300]You? And insignificant spider like you? Ha! When you're gone, no one will mourn you. They'll probably applaud your absence.[/glow]
What do you mean, when I'm gone? I'm going nowhere. I'll always be here.
[glow=green,2,300]But you're so worthless, little fool. You really ought to give up this charade of life now. You will lose in the end. You always do. Just look at Reikoku and Pyra. And Sidheag...[/glow]
ENOUGH!
Mehran slammed her head down to the make-shift desk. These arguments had increased as of late, with herself, it seemed. It was her, and it wasn't her. It tasted of dark fury, avarice, and wrath. And she was her own bright, saving light, continually fighting against the anger that threatened to overtake her. Glancing around the room, her eyes fell upon the toothy dagger left to her by the Cannibal Kriggud. It had been a gift to her for the Winter Solstice, and though her plans were to eventually undo him, she had treasured it with great love. Now, it appeared a means of escape.
But she rejected the thought almost as instantly as it came to her. First, she valued her own life above most others, and would certainly not end it so soon. And then, that would be letting the taunting voice win. For weeks, she had battled with the ugly thing, first ignoring it, and then getting weary and so drawn into the fights. And occasionally, fights they did become, with the only way Mehran could win to be to hurt herself. And rarely was the pain as mundane as a forehead plant to a desktop. Her legs and waist told stories Mehran had never thought to tell. But she'd be damned if she let the voice win all the time.
But Mehran knew that it must win sometimes. It would happen, upon a particularly ferocious argument, that she would close her eyes to gather her thoughts...and open them two and three days later to discover herself elsewhere. Never was it too strange a place--she always knew how to get back to where she ought to be. It was still disconcerting, however, and she knew it was unsafe. So she began to seek help from the only thing she could trust--the scrolls of power.
She read frantically over them for hours, sometimes neglecting money-making tasks or trades to get the power she needed. And as always, the words acted like drugs to her reeling mind, calming her down enough to think. At her most paranoid, driven hours, she almost believed the scrolls had been sent to her for this express purpose, but never did she make the connection between the voice and the scrolls. After all, who knew the Mistress of Murderers? No one. She rested her comfort in that thought.
Worse, though, was that the voice seemed to have qualities of its own. Places she woke up were often filled with upheaval, if not downright chaos. And more than one occasion had she awoken and been referred to as "Madam Disraeli." This frightened Mehran more than she would or could put words to, for as beautiful and bold as the name was, she had never taken it as one of her own. Phen was hers, as well as Fox, Stormdancer, and Water. But never the exotic sounding "Disraeli." And without fail, wherever she went, atrocities occured. In true fashion, they were never linked back to her, but horrible things did beset people. And it often followed her back home.
One morning, a man had come to put a hit out on his cheating wife. Mehran took the case--a large sack of gold and a lovely emerald and ruby necklace lay at the end of the task--and promptly upon the man's exit, she laid into an argument with the voice again. Four days later, she awoke to news: the woman had been murdered in a most vicious way, but the man had been downright destroyed. It was not Mehran's way to kill both parties, and she was disturbed. The news, mixed with her own absence of mind, upset her greatly, and she had set to reading her scrolls again to find some power that would oust the voice from her mind and allow her peace again.
Great wisdom and power could be found in the scrolls, but they always fell just short of giving her what she truly desired. They hinted at it, and she kept at reading them, always hoping that the next one would help. The trouble was, she was running out of scrolls. She only had 364. And she'd been through roughly 200 already. Unsure of what the next step would be, she continued reading, hoping at the end of the scrolls lay a secret that she would obtain. "All I want is some peace of mind...."
[glow=green,2,300]Not that you deserve it, tiny fool...[/glow]
Shut up. Shut up! Just leave me alone.
[glow=green,2,300]But no one else will tell you what you are. So I will. You and I both see the way they look at you. They think you a failure. You should probably just disappear now.[/glow]
That's not true! They love me. I am needed.
[glow=green,2,300]You? And insignificant spider like you? Ha! When you're gone, no one will mourn you. They'll probably applaud your absence.[/glow]
What do you mean, when I'm gone? I'm going nowhere. I'll always be here.
[glow=green,2,300]But you're so worthless, little fool. You really ought to give up this charade of life now. You will lose in the end. You always do. Just look at Reikoku and Pyra. And Sidheag...[/glow]
ENOUGH!
Mehran slammed her head down to the make-shift desk. These arguments had increased as of late, with herself, it seemed. It was her, and it wasn't her. It tasted of dark fury, avarice, and wrath. And she was her own bright, saving light, continually fighting against the anger that threatened to overtake her. Glancing around the room, her eyes fell upon the toothy dagger left to her by the Cannibal Kriggud. It had been a gift to her for the Winter Solstice, and though her plans were to eventually undo him, she had treasured it with great love. Now, it appeared a means of escape.
But she rejected the thought almost as instantly as it came to her. First, she valued her own life above most others, and would certainly not end it so soon. And then, that would be letting the taunting voice win. For weeks, she had battled with the ugly thing, first ignoring it, and then getting weary and so drawn into the fights. And occasionally, fights they did become, with the only way Mehran could win to be to hurt herself. And rarely was the pain as mundane as a forehead plant to a desktop. Her legs and waist told stories Mehran had never thought to tell. But she'd be damned if she let the voice win all the time.
But Mehran knew that it must win sometimes. It would happen, upon a particularly ferocious argument, that she would close her eyes to gather her thoughts...and open them two and three days later to discover herself elsewhere. Never was it too strange a place--she always knew how to get back to where she ought to be. It was still disconcerting, however, and she knew it was unsafe. So she began to seek help from the only thing she could trust--the scrolls of power.
She read frantically over them for hours, sometimes neglecting money-making tasks or trades to get the power she needed. And as always, the words acted like drugs to her reeling mind, calming her down enough to think. At her most paranoid, driven hours, she almost believed the scrolls had been sent to her for this express purpose, but never did she make the connection between the voice and the scrolls. After all, who knew the Mistress of Murderers? No one. She rested her comfort in that thought.
Worse, though, was that the voice seemed to have qualities of its own. Places she woke up were often filled with upheaval, if not downright chaos. And more than one occasion had she awoken and been referred to as "Madam Disraeli." This frightened Mehran more than she would or could put words to, for as beautiful and bold as the name was, she had never taken it as one of her own. Phen was hers, as well as Fox, Stormdancer, and Water. But never the exotic sounding "Disraeli." And without fail, wherever she went, atrocities occured. In true fashion, they were never linked back to her, but horrible things did beset people. And it often followed her back home.
One morning, a man had come to put a hit out on his cheating wife. Mehran took the case--a large sack of gold and a lovely emerald and ruby necklace lay at the end of the task--and promptly upon the man's exit, she laid into an argument with the voice again. Four days later, she awoke to news: the woman had been murdered in a most vicious way, but the man had been downright destroyed. It was not Mehran's way to kill both parties, and she was disturbed. The news, mixed with her own absence of mind, upset her greatly, and she had set to reading her scrolls again to find some power that would oust the voice from her mind and allow her peace again.
Great wisdom and power could be found in the scrolls, but they always fell just short of giving her what she truly desired. They hinted at it, and she kept at reading them, always hoping that the next one would help. The trouble was, she was running out of scrolls. She only had 364. And she'd been through roughly 200 already. Unsure of what the next step would be, she continued reading, hoping at the end of the scrolls lay a secret that she would obtain. "All I want is some peace of mind...."
[glow=green,2,300]Not that you deserve it, tiny fool...[/glow]