Is this a dagger which I see before me, the handle toward my hand?

[PRIVATE] Is this a dagger which I see before me, the handle toward my hand?

Psyche the DarkEmpress Posts: 380

Deceased

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

RayoDeSoleil

09-14-2013, 07:12 PM

Did she mean that which she had spat so vehemently in the engineer's face? Was this the end of her glorified reign, or only a show of her overwhelming emotions? She had worked oh, so hard, for oh, so long, to hold her feelings in check, to present only the face of superiority and victory to her peers; and yet now the mask had fallen in shambles at her feet, and so she plodded on towards her own demise, though one would be hard pressed to tell if she were unknowing or uncaring, or perhaps both. The bestowal of her title upon one so obviously lesser than she (for though he bore a horn on his brow, she refused to bow to his arrogance) was an act, perhaps, of revenge, or perhaps a poorly thrown tantrum. Anything to get herself out of the hole that she had dug on that battlefield. Anything to prevent her secret from forming words, erupting into the night and beginning yet another drama from which she could not hope to emerge unscathed.

I can't do this anymore.

She had felt it on the battlefield, and she felt it again now: failure. It sank into her bones, into her very soul, reminding her of why her father had never looked upon her with pride, had never chosen her to ascend the ranks; she had been but a soldier, a pawn in his chess game of eradication. And she had bought it, hook, line, and sinker; she had followed his lead without pause, idolized him, given all that she had to follow in his footsteps, even when presented with evidence that his line was corrupt. She had arrived in this land knowing, knowing that her blood was toxic, and yet she had pursued its course eagerly, never pausing to wonder if there might be another way. And now, she had lost everything. Now, she was no one. Before, there was her crown; now, there was nothing.

She was nothing.

There was nothing for her here.

She did not deserve her title. She did not deserve her crown.

But she could not admit it. Would not admit it. With nothing else to call her own, she clung to her misshapen identity as though it might provide buoyancy through the political turmoil that she found herself in; without it, she might sink, never to be heard from again. Who was she kidding? Even with it, she was drowning, flailing hopelessly in a never-ending sea of defeat. She would not rule Helovia; she would not stomp the life out of the lesser beings. She would not even hold her own kingdom. No, she would leave. She would run. Like a coward. Perhaps that was all she really was.

When Deimos followed her, wanting clarification, she almost told him that she had nothing left to give him; almost, but not quite. Instead, she bit her tongue to keep herself from shrieking her frustration before whirling on him, anger flaring in her belly. Its brief fire was enough to bring some of the old condescension to her vocals, though it died down just as quickly as it had come, replaced instead by the numbing despair of loss. "Clearly you think you could do better without me," she hissed. "Never mind that I brought us here. Never mind that the God of Time granted me his favor. But you do not want me here, so I will leave."

[W/C | ---]

Walk walk walk.
"Talk talk talk."
Think think think.