Time is often perceived as linear by those lacking the fortitude to see past the veil. This reality, this dream merely a tapestry, meant to be bent by those deemed above mortality. The nexus within the old world's carcass had been digested, Mazana, part homunculus, part Djinn, an unholy fusion by all metrics, now above a mere spirit. Her siblings, those that had spurned her, imbeciles tugged by strings beyond fathomability. Their vision myopic, unable to see, polluted by the grime and filth of their mother. Victims in a grand orchestra, pawns to be navigated by insidious wills. The empire they knew, the society they sought to protect, stitched together via the use of innumerable corpses. Those innocent victims were begging for redemption, imploring any who may listen for retribution.
Mazana was stepping free from those silvery pools, carrying a cadaver, the arcane energy thoroughly consumed. That voracious appetite hardly satisfied; she needed more power to bend this wretched realm to her whims. The sands outside may seem white, but in truth, they were varnished in the blood of the unsullied. Those thigh-high heels colliding with the floor, the dragon watching as the spirit sat on the ruined throne of the former Mer empire. Those faultless legs were overlapping, as a broad and wicked smile ubiquitously sprawled forth, across soft to behold features. The hand was stretching forward, as the essence begged Comm'Orra to fulfill his end of their bargain, as Viessa corpsed laid resting on top of her lap. That quaint hallway of bone, the theater that labored as their little fray, would serve as an agreeable stage.
Like a mirage, an illusion, the blue streaked beauty emerged into view—the sight of Mazana's golden and black dressed attire, those reddish and dark heels on display. As crimson painted nails stroked Viessa's cold, lifeless face, a demure expression resided on the visage as the head tilted curiously. The air within plummeting, those inhabitants observing their breath now twirling from lips, as the icy blood coursed through the regal enigma's veins. The thumbs were wiping away the tears still staining the Mer's cheeks.
"These tears of lamentations, what virtue they possess. Indeed, such heartfelt expressions are the most estimable substance of our world. Don't be frightened; this husk is hardly a corpse. Hunter, my brother, I wonder, are you deserving of shedding such tears? The act of mourning our failures and the fallen resides within the domain of mortality."
The hand was trailing down the face and body, clutching that dangling forearm from the inert vessel. Mazana deviated her gaze from her sister to her still living brothers, gifting them with a delirium enriched smile.
"Tell me, can you all seriously call this aberration a corpse!?"
The frosty maiden suddenly snapping the bone, the forearm puncture the skin and muscle, before tossing the rag dolling body from the throne onto the boney floor. Standing free from the perched position as she offered them all a theatrical bow.
"Frivilotiy, thy name is woman! No, that doesn't seem reasonable, as we Homunculus weren't even born from flesh. Humor me, Beastkin, can something not birthed from a womb ever be classified as a carcass? Thats right brothers, she too, was one of our kind. An unfettered soul, purged of all impurities, transcending the levity that is morality."
The apparition was melting from view. The Djinn only reappeared ten feet in front of her siblings with an ice dagger clenched tightly in her grasp.
"My beautiful comrades, we are all marionettes, just some of us have longer strings than others. What you're experiencing is merely the first moment your consciousness has been awakened—time, space, meaningless ideas, much like subjectivity. Revolution, discord is the fuel that propels life forward. Civilization, ethics, all constructs formulated by mediocre wills to justify the futility of thwarting and eluding the ravenous abyss. What is delirium, but to repeat the same cycle expecting a differing result? What I offer is change, brothers, join me in this venture? Let us ride the spiral to the end and take our rightful place within the new epoch. Don't be alarmed; I sense proof is required of our divinity. Of which I am delighted to oblige for all those in this room...Behold."
The wintry enigma laughed as she raised the dagger, placing it to her neck, as her free hand clenched those locks of soft mane. The jagged implement hacking away, a bloody mist was pushing itself toward her siblings as the head was untethered from the body. The decapitated top being tossed to their feet, rolling around so that the eyes faced them, peering up at Rakash and Hunter. Those haunting eyes were staring into their very souls as the lips smacked together.
"Myrriah, the empire, used us all for their devices. No more, I have seen the way forward. For us to survive, drastic recourse must be...enforced!"
The foot raised, crushing the skull from the temple, caving it in, as blood pooled onto the surface. A swarm of shadows and fireflies circled from the hole, its blinding light filling the room, as it vanished. Mazana was standing resolute, the APV orbiting her curvaceous body, as a new head sprouted into view as she leaned down toward her brethern.
"Boo!"
Whether or not any of this was real remained to be seen, but one thing was tangible. Mazana, the frigid rose, had gazed into the lamenting void and awakened from its chaotic depths changed. Rakash wanted to be a unit once more, Hunter barely spoke, as the spectators Watari and Aiveera added their pointless conjectures to the mix.
Mazana was looking toward the Kitsune, making the connection between his lineage, as the fright-filled expression of a mother was a laborious thing to conceal. Watari, a rabid animal who thought of himself as wise and eloquent but disgorged absurd ideals. Aiveera, the loyal flea-ridden mutt, powerless to think for herself, lapped at the shit crusted fingers of her mistresses spawn. This audience demonstrated themselves as nettlesome, beyond redemption, their minds far too befogged to discern the veracity of her words. An asinine quality both Rakash and Hunter dishearteningly shared. What heartfelt supplications, the feeble rodent was pleading for his family, a bond that never tangibly existed. While all amphibian could do was stand there and witness the edifice of his transgressions, the manifestation of the "honor" bound warrior's failures.
This intruder retired those arms behind her back, interlocking digits, as the side of her palms rested against her rump. Those heels were riding natural acoustics, as the frigid rose paced rather calmly from side to side as if contemplating Watari and Aiveera's words.
"Am I real? Rakash, a vapid question, as empty as the future of the Empire. Permit me to counter your query with what you sincerely wished to demand but lacked the testicular fortitude to, are you real? "
Her movements ceasing, peering over the side of her shoulder toward her distressed brother, chuckling softly as a madness infused smirk resided on attractive features.
"This isn't about mother, nor is this about me. We are both pawns in your tussle over self-identity. How quaint, but fret not my forgetful brother, I will provide the answer you solicit after. Us homunculus are the product of mothers' sins, the culmination of her misadventures stitched with others' flesh. Your cognizance transcends that of man. Yet, it is still hampered by your unwillingness to embrace the rancid reality of our permanence."
The spurned daughter pivoted to face hunter, peering unwavering into his soulless eyes. The APV oscillating maintaining that mesmerizing orbit as it was now time to address her forgetful kin.
"Hunter? Our brother?"
Mazana laughing, leaning back as her right hand deviated from the back, placing the back of her hand against the forehead. This atrocity in an ostensible jubilant mood.
"No, not even an acquaintance will turn their back on you as you are tortured. Hunter, thanks for inquiring into how I have been; it's so refreshing to see you care! Maybe I should delight you with a retelling of what torment I suffered while you stood next to mother at clockwork when the fox transcended. Oh wait, thats right...you didn't know I was watching, now did you? Tell me, "brother," how is it you didn't open your mouth than when our mother dearest was at your side?"
The rejected matron taunting, as eyes rode toward the rat. The Djinn genuinely fascinated to observe how he'd handle this dismal epiphany.
"As to what I will do, why would a dead man care about a future he has no stake in? On second thought, I won't exterminate you. Death is so finite, but life, there will be perpetual misery there for you here. Hunter, the honorable warrior, the coward who turned his back on his sister. The aversion accountable for what is to come, all the death, the piles of burning carcasses. It's all thanks to you, your magnum opus. Do not weep; I am not displeased with you; in fact, I am appreciative."
(Writing sample.)
