Bitter Victory, Bitter Defeat

[PRIVATE] Bitter Victory, Bitter Defeat

Psyche the DarkEmpress Posts: 380

Deceased

Mare :: Unicorn :: 15.3 hh :: 8 (ages in Orangemoon) Buff: ENDURE

RayoDeSoleil

#10

12-07-2013, 06:20 PM

To truly understand the depth of the shadow-mare's hatred, one would have to truly understand the complexity of her past. Are personality traits heritable? It is a question that presents itself as one looks into the family from which the Empress came. Her father was, perhaps, the most racist stallion of all times, destroying their home and family in one fell swoop designed to erase the lessers from existence, leaving himself and his offspring to rule. His plan had failed. Perhaps her hatred stemmed, then, not from a hatred of the inferiors themselves, but from how their presence had driven her family into extinction. Of course, she had never questioned it - after all, watching one's mother burn before one's very eyes leaves a bit of a bitter aftertaste. She had lived her life with anger and vengeance held within her heart. It was only now, when such negativity had fled her mind and left her tired and alone, that she found herself able to question her true motives.

What had she been trying to cleanse, anyway? Her world? Or herself?

She started as he mentioned the Basin wreaking havoc, her amber gaze meeting his with a jolt of surprise. There was a moment of pride before her mind banished it, sneering at the weakness that drew her to support those that she had led. They cast you out, a small voice hissed. They don't care that you led them to this glory. Another voice asked if that was how she wanted to be remembered, anyway. She sighed. "I doubt forgiveness will be so easily given for me," she admitted. "My past is a bit more... colorful than most." Her vocals were musing, and calmness settled into her mind as it had not done for days. At the stallion's next question, she frowned slightly, her brow furrowing. Again her gaze left him, and she found herself staring into the swampland surrounding them, lost in thought. How much misery would she have been spared, had she walked another path? Was she truly regretful of the misery she had caused, or was she merely cowering from the pain of abandonment?

It was not the first time she had felt so betrayed. She had been deserted before. She had been lost before. And she had rallied, pushed herself to the top - but for what? Here she was again, back at the bottom.

She couldn't do it anymore, she realized then. She couldn't hold on to hatred, not when she had come to know what love and friendship (though built, perhaps, on mutual disgust) felt like.

She couldn't be who they would want her to be.

"Hatred is what I was taught," she finally answered, and for once she spoke the truth. "It was in every moment of every day... I thought I was doing the right thing..." she trailed off again, not sure how to proceed, too proud to apologize but too lost to know what else to say.

"Talk talk talk."