Zehira

Zehira Al'thor
Status	Active
Race	Human
Gender	Female
Guild	Necromancer
Instance	Prime
Relatives	Sepharus

"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. "

< 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

< 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 the 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.

< 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 part of me 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.

< 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

< 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

< 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

< 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 liasons between two forbidden bodies who then drown

< within their own blood. The rift was here, the rift was calling to the being and it's unending desire to spread malice while it was 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

< floated on thin air. It wasn't hard, it was merely where the 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

< housed them. A hazed gaze was looked through, the veil had been lifted and the being stood within the shadows of the realm that was going to hell in a handbasket. So here I was in the flesh, in the cess pool that this world had become. The water had never washed it all away, not even when the mortal body had drowned.

< 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

< screaming in the night. A forboding 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.

< 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

<understood. I am the shadow of my former self, and I am here.>

You are Nightmare Zehira Al'thor, Funeral Director, a Human.

You have an oval face, gold-flecked jade eyes, a small nose and dimples accented by a pair of dark seordstone talons. Your red-streaked black hair is long and wavy, and is worn in a deceptively careless-looking arrangement of upswept locks held in place by some chitinous blade spider barbs fashioned into a crown. You have fair skin and a slender figure. You are a bit over average height for a Human.'

A triangular smoke grey diamond adorned with an intaglio striking scorpion nestles at the top of your forehead, brightened by faint, darting sparkles deep within the gem. You appear to be an adult.'

You have an elaborate arrangement of piercings in the flesh surrounding both of your eyes. Polished jade rings form an unbroken procession along the brow and cheekbones to create a dramatic effect that is enhanced with thin interwoven lengths of gold chain. Your left hip has a tattoo of a Harawep's Pawn spider bearing sharp fangs drenched in venom.