05-23-2016, 08:36 PM
Dacia
Jamie x Astri
Brokenness. They all know of it. Dacia has been broken, Malis has been broken, Killdare has been broken. They step among a valley of glass shards, each one reflecting past, present, and future lives for them to consider. She cannot say what Malis or Killdare see when they turn their eyes to their own shattered mirrors, but for her it is something of a sad story, strung along in a series of disappointments and heartaches. Their world is unkind to the softhearted and Dacia has the softest heart of them all. She is weak, she knows it. It is because she is a woman - a woman in a world where men have always had the upper hand. What can she do but make the best of her situation?
So she gathers the shards, all of them, and assembles them within her to shape something of a soul - using Mortal and Hellbane as the glue. Piece by piece she molds them together until what was broken becomes whole again. A window of stained glass, bleeding reds and blues and yellows and made glorious in its rebirth. The picture is one her mother had painted so long ago when she herself had crossed the borders of the Chamber, defiant yet loyal to Straia. Astri had dreamed of a future for her children and their children, for generations she would never see. A line so strong it could not be broken by deceit or false love. When Malis’ question drifts into her consciousness Dacia’s thoughts have come to their conclusion.
He waits, their King. Silent as a deaf-mute because he cannot find the strength to speak when he should have spoken. The skin-changer hates the anger that rages inside of her now but it rises to the surface all the same. His noiseless entrance has her ears falling flat, tail twisting at her hind in a display of irritation. “Of course he didn’t.” She mutters, knowing all too well the shame he should feel because she feels it anew right now. Shamed in her innocence, shamed at her belief that she could somehow bring someone like Killdare to devote his heart to her. He’d seen the weakness and he’d fed on it all the same, taking and taking and devouring until he’d been satiated by both. What had he left to lose? He’d gotten everything he wanted and more, with Dacia none the wiser for it.
She could not stay. “Make it the home I never found.” She tells the blue woman, stepping forward to brush her nose along the indigo neck of her superior. Hellbane is wrapped up in his half-sister now, ogling over her magnificent wings and explaining his brother to her. It’s an idle chatter that soothes her as she gains the courage to finally turn around and look her King in the eye. “Killdare.” She calls, nodding softly before easing away in his direction. In all her life she’d never wondered what it was like for Lupei to shed his skin and sink his teeth into bloody flesh, but in this moment she nearly craves the ability. What she wouldn’t give to return the pain he’s inflicted upon her.
Her skin undulates as she stops abreast of him, fading to a solemn grey while her eyes flash red. “I could have forgiven you of almost anything, were it not for the deception. I trusted you, but perhaps my trust was misplaced.” She hisses, jaw snapping shut in her haste to snip her chiding short. It would do her little good now. “I cannot serve you.” She whispers, head turning away from him for fear that the shape of his face would strip her of her bravery. All that she had ever desired stood before her now, cloaked in his own magnificence and still she felt that he had never truly cared to know her.
“Save your apologies for someone who has the wish to hear them.”
So she gathers the shards, all of them, and assembles them within her to shape something of a soul - using Mortal and Hellbane as the glue. Piece by piece she molds them together until what was broken becomes whole again. A window of stained glass, bleeding reds and blues and yellows and made glorious in its rebirth. The picture is one her mother had painted so long ago when she herself had crossed the borders of the Chamber, defiant yet loyal to Straia. Astri had dreamed of a future for her children and their children, for generations she would never see. A line so strong it could not be broken by deceit or false love. When Malis’ question drifts into her consciousness Dacia’s thoughts have come to their conclusion.
He waits, their King. Silent as a deaf-mute because he cannot find the strength to speak when he should have spoken. The skin-changer hates the anger that rages inside of her now but it rises to the surface all the same. His noiseless entrance has her ears falling flat, tail twisting at her hind in a display of irritation. “Of course he didn’t.” She mutters, knowing all too well the shame he should feel because she feels it anew right now. Shamed in her innocence, shamed at her belief that she could somehow bring someone like Killdare to devote his heart to her. He’d seen the weakness and he’d fed on it all the same, taking and taking and devouring until he’d been satiated by both. What had he left to lose? He’d gotten everything he wanted and more, with Dacia none the wiser for it.
She could not stay. “Make it the home I never found.” She tells the blue woman, stepping forward to brush her nose along the indigo neck of her superior. Hellbane is wrapped up in his half-sister now, ogling over her magnificent wings and explaining his brother to her. It’s an idle chatter that soothes her as she gains the courage to finally turn around and look her King in the eye. “Killdare.” She calls, nodding softly before easing away in his direction. In all her life she’d never wondered what it was like for Lupei to shed his skin and sink his teeth into bloody flesh, but in this moment she nearly craves the ability. What she wouldn’t give to return the pain he’s inflicted upon her.
Her skin undulates as she stops abreast of him, fading to a solemn grey while her eyes flash red. “I could have forgiven you of almost anything, were it not for the deception. I trusted you, but perhaps my trust was misplaced.” She hisses, jaw snapping shut in her haste to snip her chiding short. It would do her little good now. “I cannot serve you.” She whispers, head turning away from him for fear that the shape of his face would strip her of her bravery. All that she had ever desired stood before her now, cloaked in his own magnificence and still she felt that he had never truly cared to know her.
“Save your apologies for someone who has the wish to hear them.”
Color-Changing Vixen of the Chamber