« Reply #27 on: September 13, 2019, 11:13:06 PM »
The dissatisfaction gnawing at Suspiria was more than a lack of sustenance at the Aasimar’s not having fed in a wintry fortnight. In the frigid dusk of the Gray City she regretted ever feasting on human flesh and promised herself once more she would desist from this mortally dangerous dining Julian had taught her. How she yearned to enjoy wholesome food …but the longer she delayed giving into her appetite, the more heavenly pleasure her entire body experienced once she felt warm blood cascading down her throat, filling the hungry vacancy within her abdomen, as vulnerable flesh yielded to her beautiful teeth and dissolved in the lubrication of her saliva.
With each swallow of the precious nourishment, she knew what a god must feel—and a taste of the power that was rightfully hers. Not only the dark energy that pumped into her long limbs and torso, but the power of life and death over others: she was not born and bred to serve but to rule. The weak lived so that the strong might devour them.
And that truth was the source of her angst. How was it she must still skulk about and hide her true self from this impotent world—a world of fearful fools who judged what she did as wrong, when every lesson she had ever learned taught her the sublime morality of her course? As a child, she had been pure and good, only to see her virtuous parents slaughtered and to suffer more than a decade of unrelieved torture and abuse.
Violent murder had freed her, violent murder brought her material security, and now violent murder would abate her painful hunger.
Those who believed in the superiority of the Good were pampered and deluded children, sheep waiting to be gutted, quartered, and fed to the ravenous. Power came from the will to do all that was necessary to attain it.
Her might strengthened apace, as her enemies failed and her allies grew more numerous. Even so, she was impatient and wanted more. She yet dreamed that Baroness Armont would take her again to Borca, where her star would rise to a more prestigious firmament than backwards Barovia. Suspiria was not, however, one to sit idly by and wait for dreams to come true. Or willing to rely on the mercurial whims of others.
As much as she grasped now—more security and wealth than most Barovians could ever hope to achieve—the prize tasted in her mouth as bland as any cuisine not made of human flesh. Let the mediocre be content by a comfortable hearth with friends and kinship. Her superior spirit would always be restless and driven by infinite ambition…this consuming, hellish fire to repay the gods of Light for what they had allowed to happen to her.
« Last Edit: September 13, 2019, 11:19:20 PM by Iridni Ren »
Logged
My windows cracked, but they can be replaced.
Your arm will tire throwing stones my way.