Chernobyl

An anger burned in the pit of her stomach, swelling and expanding from the effort of holding back. It was not her Matron’s words that angered her so, but more so the fact that she longed… longed for more than this, more than everything around her. The Basin was magical, but it was not enough to soothe her restlessness, her direct prowess and desire to rise beyond. A cool smile touched her dry lips, once again reminding her of all things aesthetic, fake… her brow creased in amusement as she gazed at the ghostly figure of her replicate. Her words were so self-righteous, though it was a mere front that kept her standing. Whatever she offered was something truly heinous, something surreal. Power was something not handed out at random, it was something earned, at times. She pondered this revelation, wondered if this Psyche was actually willing to produce all that she promised, all that those predator lips seemed to purr. She paused in her gazing, laying shallow eyes upon those of amber. It must have been a frightening thing- to look into one’s eyes and see no soul, no depth. There was no light about her, no sense of humanity. But instead, she spoke, this Lady. she spoke so many empty lies that it was hard for Chernobyl to believe was what real anymore. However, this wasn’t the time to question her incentives, it was a time to take advantage of the situation.

Perhaps she thought her weak, foolish, insolent… but she was everything aside. She laughed, a demonic sound trickling from her gullet like a moan. She muttered soft words to herself, words of encouragement maybe? It was increasingly hard to hear, hard to see. The darkness surrounded them, pressing upon them like plastic, suffocating them and bringing them together in one moment of pure solitude. Silence ensued as the shadow chuckled. Loyalty? Was there ever such a thing? She glanced back at her liege, her yellowed teeth catching the faint light of the moon above, glittering gold in the midst of the night. Upon her now, illumination brought reality. Her flesh, far too thin against her brittle bones seemed to shift and concave along the planes of her malformed structure and her eyes seemed to widen against the onslaught of twilight.

“What would you have me think of them… darling?” her words were gruff, a slight challenge upon their notes. She had pressed onward, testing the mare’s resolve- she needed assurance, a gauge of trust in which she could confide. She wanted entertainment, a reason to entrust her loyalties. If the ghoul had nothing of interest to provide, then she might consider searching elsewhere to enlist her foolhardy minions.

But oh, I'm staring at the mess I made
As you turn, you take your heart and walk away