Zehira: Difference between revisions
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'''''Well hello, I know I know, you're wondering why I am what I am, what I do what I do, why I don't feel any sort of well anything at all. The answer is simple, at least simple to me. I am a killer, I kill with no emotion, no thought, no care. I will take down as many of you as I can, and anyone that wants to get in my way. Let the others play with their little knives, I see the bigger picture. My work is my own, my path is dark. Come and join me and feel the true meaning, see what I see, hear what I hear, learn what I know. It's just one simple step, just a little blood, I promise it doesn't hurt in the end. ''''' |
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Ershta Zehira Al'thor, Nightmare of Velaka |
Ershta Zehira Al'thor, Nightmare of Velaka |
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You have an oval face, ears accented by some animite earstuds dangling night black butcherbirds, unflinching and hardened lurid saffron eyes, a sprite bone set with duskbloom sapphires piercing the septum of her nose and dimples accented by some slender erythraean-hilted stilettos. Your red-streaked void black hair is hip length and wavy, and is worn in a haphazard tangle bound by some platinum-chased strands of vela'tohr-carved zoetia beads. You have a ghastly scar on the left arm, pasty white skin painted to look like it is drenched in clotting blood and a partially dried gore and a delicate array of tiny crimson poppies following the lines of a sleek, sylphlike figure. |
You have an oval face, ears accented by some animite earstuds dangling night black butcherbirds, unflinching and hardened lurid saffron eyes, a sprite bone set with duskbloom sapphires piercing the septum of her nose and dimples accented by some slender erythraean-hilted stilettos. Your red-streaked void black hair is hip length and wavy, and is worn in a haphazard tangle bound by some platinum-chased strands of vela'tohr-carved zoetia beads. You have a ghastly scar on the left arm, pasty white skin painted to look like it is drenched in clotting blood and a partially dried gore and a delicate array of tiny crimson poppies following the lines of a sleek, sylphlike figure. |
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You are captivatingly compact for a Human. |
You are captivatingly compact for a Human. |
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A nightmare black top hat rests askew on your head, slanting over one eye. |
A nightmare black top hat rests askew on your head, slanting over one eye. |
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A single black-and-white card juts jauntily from the shadesatin band. |
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Your left wrist has a tattoo of a crimson eye surrounded by a black sphere. |
Your left wrist has a tattoo of a crimson eye surrounded by a black sphere.'' |
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Chaos, it's always about chaos. My mind is nothing but chaos and for a long time that's all it's been. There are sometimes calms before the storm, but it is never easy to be me. It is not something anyone would want to do lightly. To walk in my shoes, to hear the whispers, the words not spoken directly to me. So much chaos. This life I chose, it was of my own doing. Not one person forced me to be what I am, perhaps they drove me to be what I am. Harsh words come and go but I never forget. |
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Brash, impulsive, cruel, all words I've been accused of being. It was a steep plunge off of that cliff, but my path is my own, my work is my own. There is one light in it all, one moment when the chaos calms. He is the calm in the center of my chaos, he is my person. It may be hard to understand, how that can be, how can I have a person. Once in a lifetime it happens and you have to make sure you never let go. He is my person. He has always been and he will always be my person. |
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I write this as the lucid moments come, sometimes I believe that it's just so one day I will know who I used to be, |
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not who I've become. There is no fault on anyone, not one person. I knew that the day would come when I would have |
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to choose who to be. In my mind, there is no right or wrong. From the first moment that he called to me that summer day |
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as we stood at the stones, there was no doubt what my mettle would be. I never fought it, there was no need. I've been |
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called brash, immature, impulsive and perhaps to an extent that is true. |
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Some think that it's all about power, it is not |
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just about power, it's about everything that comes along with it. It is more about being who I am destined to be. |
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When the voices are not calling, it's very quiet, like now, as I stare at the winter sky on this desolate island that |
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I have chosen to continue my studies upon. M'riss is very unforgiving and to stand alone in the midst of a desert has been called insanity. |
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That's not too far off right? |
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Or is it something that has already overtaken me to the deepest recess of my core. They say that I am cruel, uncaring, |
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unloving. They say that I am not who I used to be. It was a steep plunge to take the dive off of the edge of the knife, |
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but I had always known, deep down inside I had always known. My path is clear, if the voices ever stop... |
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my mind screams and my eye twitches, it's gone as soon as it started. |
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There is no more, the pull is gone, I have come home. Death always wins. |
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''' |
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''Time stopped in moments, and then the moments passed. The shadowed lands around the me were not the oblivion that would take the soul into it's final rest. Steps could not be taken, nothing could be touched, there was nothing but noise and the resounding screams of the tangled webs of burning bodies and ripping limbs. One by |
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'' |
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''one the bodies would fall and the screams would fill the black ink of the shadows. I felt as if I was wasting away in this place. The shroud that separated me from the them had been rifting, and tearing, but the I paid it no mind. It was not my time to flourish, it was not my time to, see what lay on the other side. |
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''But who am I? I am one half of a whole, I am the thing that makes grown men cry. I am the thing hiding beneath the bed to drag the wanting living parts to the Void. Restless, implacable, inescapable, and a foe to all that would try and stand in the way of the final rest. Selfish desires, malice, darkness, greed and hate, that lie in everyone.'' |
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''You will not stop me, you will not stand in my way of the final judgement that is to be made. Quiet and organized, I will take you apart like clockwork, layer by layer stripping your defenses to leave you a quivering mass of what you once were. I will take pleasure in your flaws and torture you with surgical precision. Rifling |
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'' |
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''through every back drawer of your mind to pluck out the most painful memories, cataloging every weakness and finding every flaw, no matter how small and forgotten it is. Your companions will hate you, your friends will turn to poison, and you will beg me to save you. My angst will grow and I will grow stronger. I will retrieve my other half'' |
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''and free myself into the oblivion. No one is safe, nothing is sacred. The happenstance has caught the my attention. Murder, rape, anger and hate, that which I need to take over completely. The weak willed, that wished to live the life among the living. To break through the Shroud and pretend that death did not'' |
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''exist. Weak willed and afraid of death. Death for some was not only the beginning, it was the life that had been ripped from them in a moment of weakness, in a wrong turn down a one way street. The anger that blew the fuse, the words that caused the shot to be fired. The dangerous liasions between two forbidden bodies who then drown'' |
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''within their own blood. The rift was here, the rift was calling to me and the unending desire to spread malice while able. Anger and hate were two very powerful things when used and twisted in the right way. Squeezing, turning and floating upon the shadowed edges of the two worlds, I was lifted among that which merely |
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'' |
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''floated on thin air. It wasn't hard, it was merely where I wanted to be. There was no clawing from the grave, there was no pushing dirt out of the way of the sudden appearance that was made. Sometimes, the thing about dead people was, they didn't know that they were dead. They wanted to be on this mortal coil that |
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'' |
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''housed them. A hazed gaze was looked through, the veil had been lifted and I stood within the shadows of the realm that was going to hell in a hand basket. So here I was in the flesh, in the cesspool that this place had become. The water had never washed it all away, not even when the mortal body had drowned. |
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'' |
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''It took days to find it, days and days. The angst and anger had time to sit and brew, to become the thing that was standing now before these, things. Let us get one thing straight. I am the thing that goes bump in the night, I am the creepy monster hiding under your bed, I am the boogeyman within the closet of every child that wakes up |
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'' |
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''screaming in the night. A for-boding feeling would surround any within it's sights, the chill of the air dropping another ten degrees at least. Invisible, yet on the thought of every viable person within it's touch. I am the mask of a thousand faces, I am that which you will never see. I am a shadowed touch of a lover, the whispered word of a mother. |
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'' |
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''The screaming of the banshee that fills the night air with the lick of lips that do not convey words. Oh, what a tangled web we weave. I am words unspoken and the brush of darkness that will turn the hardest heart to a chilly wave. The pricks of hair that stand on end, when the realization hits that there are things that will never be |
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'' |
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''understood. I am the shadow of my former self, and I am here. |
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'' |
'' |
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“MEMORY'S SO TREACHEROUS. ONE MOMENT YOU'RE LOST IN A CARNIVAL OF DELIGHTS, WITH POIGNANT CHILDHOOD AROMAS , THE FLASHING NEON OF PUBERTY, ALL THAT SENTIMENTAL CANDY-FLOSS ... |
“MEMORY'S SO TREACHEROUS. ONE MOMENT YOU'RE LOST IN A CARNIVAL OF DELIGHTS, WITH POIGNANT CHILDHOOD AROMAS , THE FLASHING NEON OF PUBERTY, ALL THAT SENTIMENTAL CANDY-FLOSS ... |
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Revision as of 14:29, 1 May 2018
| Zehira Al'thor | |
|---|---|
| Status | Active |
| Race | Human |
| Gender | Female |
| Guild | Necromancer |
| Instance | Prime |
| Relatives | Murmer |
Drawing of Zehira by the player of Delani
Ershta Zehira Al'thor, Nightmare of Velaka
You have an oval face, ears accented by some animite earstuds dangling night black butcherbirds, unflinching and hardened lurid saffron eyes, a sprite bone set with duskbloom sapphires piercing the septum of her nose and dimples accented by some slender erythraean-hilted stilettos. Your red-streaked void black hair is hip length and wavy, and is worn in a haphazard tangle bound by some platinum-chased strands of vela'tohr-carved zoetia beads. You have a ghastly scar on the left arm, pasty white skin painted to look like it is drenched in clotting blood and a partially dried gore and a delicate array of tiny crimson poppies following the lines of a sleek, sylphlike figure. You are captivatingly compact for a Human. A nightmare black top hat rests askew on your head, slanting over one eye. A single black-and-white card juts jauntily from the shadesatin band. Your left wrist has a tattoo of a crimson eye surrounded by a black sphere.
Chaos, it's always about chaos. My mind is nothing but chaos and for a long time that's all it's been. There are sometimes calms before the storm, but it is never easy to be me. It is not something anyone would want to do lightly. To walk in my shoes, to hear the whispers, the words not spoken directly to me. So much chaos. This life I chose, it was of my own doing. Not one person forced me to be what I am, perhaps they drove me to be what I am. Harsh words come and go but I never forget.
Brash, impulsive, cruel, all words I've been accused of being. It was a steep plunge off of that cliff, but my path is my own, my work is my own. There is one light in it all, one moment when the chaos calms. He is the calm in the center of my chaos, he is my person. It may be hard to understand, how that can be, how can I have a person. Once in a lifetime it happens and you have to make sure you never let go. He is my person. He has always been and he will always be my person.
They fear monsters. They run from them. Sometimes the world no longer needs a hero. Sometimes what it needs... is a monster
It has been said that time heals all wounds. I don't agree. The wounds remain. Time - the mind, protecting its sanity - covers them with some scar tissue and the pain lessens, but it is never gone.
You're right. I am a monster. And I've done bad. I've done things you can't even imagine. Horrible, evil, messy things. And I've loved every damn minute. So thank you, for reminding me who I really am.
“MEMORY'S SO TREACHEROUS. ONE MOMENT YOU'RE LOST IN A CARNIVAL OF DELIGHTS, WITH POIGNANT CHILDHOOD AROMAS , THE FLASHING NEON OF PUBERTY, ALL THAT SENTIMENTAL CANDY-FLOSS ...
THE NEXT , IT LEADS YOU SOMEWHERE YOU DON'T WANT TO GO...
...SOMEWHERE DARK AND COLD, FILLED WITH THE DAMP, AMBIGUOUS SHAPES OF THINKS YOU'D HOPED WERE FORGOTTEN.
MEMORIES CAN BE VILE, REPULSIVE LITTLE BRUTES. LIKE CHILDREN, I SUPPOSE. HAHA.
BUT CAN WE LIVE WITHOUT THEM? MEMORIES ARE WHAT OUR REASON IS BASED UPON. IF WE CAN'T FACE THEM, WE DENY REASON ITSELF!
ALGHOUGH, WHY NOT? WE AREN'T CONTRACTUALLY TIED DOWN TO RATIONALITY!
THERE IS NO SANITY CLAUSE!
SO WHEN YOU FIND YOURSELF LOCKED ONTO AN UNPLEASANT TRAIN OF THOUGHT, HEADING FOR THE PLACES IN YOUR PAST WHERE THE SCREAMING IS UNBEARABLE, REMEMBER THERE'S ALWAYS MADNESS.
MADNESS IS THE EMERGENCY EXIT...
YOU CAN JUST STEP OUTSIDE, AND CLOSE THE DOOR ON ALL THOSE DREADFUL THINGS THAT HAPPENED. YOU CAN LOCK THEM AWAY...
FOREVER.”
― Alan Moore, Batman: The Killing Joke