Nesir Aeser (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
culbutiri) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
towerofanimus2013-04-20 10:02 pm
culbutiri) wrote in towerofanimus2013-04-20 10:02 pm
Entry tags:
In the greyness and drizzle of one despondent dawn...
Characters: Nesir Aeser and you
Setting: Floor 20
Format: Prose but I will switch
Summary: Aftermath of being a drone.
Warnings: just event stuff and dark thoughts
When Nesir had seen the dress laid out on her bed she had almost lost her temper, cut it up and thrown it away. But she had forced herself to stay calm because it had been given to her to provoke that reaction, to make her lose control. And she wouldn't, she had put it on instead, transferring the poisons to the hidden pockets, and moving her daggers across.
She had never worn it before, it had been stowed in her trunk in the temple after Lotte had thrown it at her in anger, I had it made specially for you, and I almost had to bury you in it.
Only fitting that she should wear it now then, beyond death. A soul trapped, away from the natural order of things and kept, contained.
Theirs to do what they liked with. Nesir sat on floor twenty, at the edge of the tower, legs dangling off the side staring out into the fog and emptiness. She remembered every moment, the pain, the brainwashing, the feeling that everything was alright, her actions, what she had done, attacking, killing.
She had been controlled before, both as training and punishment. Her body a puppet. It happened rarely, for she rarely disobeyed, had never disobeyed before she went to the temple. Yet this had been different, because her mind had always been her own. She might not be able to speak, to move except on the whims of whoever was pulling the strings, but she could think, she could curse them silently, she could fight back mentally.
But even that had been taken away, her mind had been theirs, she had obeyed them mindlessly. Helpless, like a child, unable to fight back, not even wanting to...
And as far as she could gather there was no reason except that they could.
Causing chaos, it was a motive she could get behind but these were blasphemers, they worshiped no shadow god, they stole souls, they played with life and death itself.
Her life and death, her soul, her mind. She was more than a puppet, she had proven that. She made her own decisions, she was her own person. She was Nesir, she had made the name her own, she was Culbu. She had earned a name, and she had earned her free will. She was obedient, she was loyal. She didn't need to be controlled.
But these people played by no rules she knew and seemed determined to prove her wrong.
She would destroy them, she did not know how, or when, but she would. She didn't know if the shadow god could hear her hear, but she closed her eyes and pledged it, the destruction of this place, the blood of everyone who stood against her.
Setting: Floor 20
Format: Prose but I will switch
Summary: Aftermath of being a drone.
Warnings: just event stuff and dark thoughts
When Nesir had seen the dress laid out on her bed she had almost lost her temper, cut it up and thrown it away. But she had forced herself to stay calm because it had been given to her to provoke that reaction, to make her lose control. And she wouldn't, she had put it on instead, transferring the poisons to the hidden pockets, and moving her daggers across.
She had never worn it before, it had been stowed in her trunk in the temple after Lotte had thrown it at her in anger, I had it made specially for you, and I almost had to bury you in it.
Only fitting that she should wear it now then, beyond death. A soul trapped, away from the natural order of things and kept, contained.
Theirs to do what they liked with. Nesir sat on floor twenty, at the edge of the tower, legs dangling off the side staring out into the fog and emptiness. She remembered every moment, the pain, the brainwashing, the feeling that everything was alright, her actions, what she had done, attacking, killing.
She had been controlled before, both as training and punishment. Her body a puppet. It happened rarely, for she rarely disobeyed, had never disobeyed before she went to the temple. Yet this had been different, because her mind had always been her own. She might not be able to speak, to move except on the whims of whoever was pulling the strings, but she could think, she could curse them silently, she could fight back mentally.
But even that had been taken away, her mind had been theirs, she had obeyed them mindlessly. Helpless, like a child, unable to fight back, not even wanting to...
And as far as she could gather there was no reason except that they could.
Causing chaos, it was a motive she could get behind but these were blasphemers, they worshiped no shadow god, they stole souls, they played with life and death itself.
Her life and death, her soul, her mind. She was more than a puppet, she had proven that. She made her own decisions, she was her own person. She was Nesir, she had made the name her own, she was Culbu. She had earned a name, and she had earned her free will. She was obedient, she was loyal. She didn't need to be controlled.
But these people played by no rules she knew and seemed determined to prove her wrong.
She would destroy them, she did not know how, or when, but she would. She didn't know if the shadow god could hear her hear, but she closed her eyes and pledged it, the destruction of this place, the blood of everyone who stood against her.
no subject
"So, how long're you planning on just sitting there?" Her sentence came to an end with a loud chomp as she tore off another chunk of the bar.
no subject
"I do just be enjoying the view." She shrugged, her voice bitter.
no subject
"There's not much to see."
no subject