To breathe

And yet to suffocate at the same time is quite the feeling. I am free and yet I am bound by my own mind. Without the whiles and goings in of the library to keep me occupied I am left to my own devices, a dangerous thing indeed.

I have thusly commuted several acts of violence against otherwise innocent citizens. I have sought and skinned two felines and declawed one. I have removed a demon from it host with lies. I have plucked a pair of lovely blue eyes from a human girl. I have stripped the nerve endings out of a man's feet, left them attached and dipped them unkempt juice as well as held them too close to a flame. I have bent a werewolf in two and tore his pectorals open then pinned them as one would a butterfly. Finally I have pulled a woman's tongue it's full length and flayed it over her body in order to show her the correct percentage of skin a lady could show and still be considered a lady.

All of this to sate my mind. There was no reason for any of it. I was bored and my mid has been screaming. On the same turn I have also done such acts of kindness. I have aided in an exorcism, I have settled an angel's mind, I have given information freely and helped countless new citizens find their way. I have been called nice, kind and warm... For whatever reason. I have healed and defended, I have given confidence and suppressed fear.

But now I feel that I am slipping again. There is something wrong in the balance and it is not something I can see or touch. Something is shifting unkindly against my mind. It cannot be She, we have made an agreement and were he to break it it would be quick, this feeling would not linger as it does. There is a darker tug at my fate and it is slowly winding me taught to snapping.

The Dreamer Must Sleep

After many months of being leader to the Illuminati and successfully bringing it back from what decay it was left in I must leave. The GLLC has deemed my sanity to be a hamper upon the continued success of the organization and have requested that I step down.

I leave my place respectfully and have come into council for the Illuminati instead.

That was the understanding near three months prior. I stayed upon the council for sometime, kneeling to the orders of the Mr. E fellow and his unabashed ways if directing orders. I followed as a dog told to sit. Thus it came to my appointment that a certain witch, Russ, be harmed for harming the library over a fateful full moon.

I tricked Russ and forced my way into her mind, by orders of Mr. E I was to near exterminate her being. I was to give her all that which she had harmed against us. With my darkness I tore through her mental barriers, this being so easy to do now, and opened her secret. where normally I would delight in this revenge there was something wrong. Something did not feel right. I had explained to her the reason for my attack and she did hold her own as best she could. The secret that I revealed to her unmade her. I ruined her beyond recognition. She was left to the rescuers that had come to late with only the parting whisper of her mind to my own, that she had no part in the coincidence the wolves attacked that night.

I stood stock still, letting the other Covenites retreat her to safety, they were unaware of the damage I had done, more so how to respond to one which they would call friend. I had been betrayed by my own leader. This information and revenge was given in falsehood and in such a manner is one I cannot stand for.

I looked to Jane being Mr. E's right hand and explained to her that I could not continue my work under a leader that refuses to reveal the truth to his own. The Illuminati had greatly changed in a way that does not uphold with my own understanding.

I gave in and gave up for self-preservation.

This city is a terrible place. While everyone seems vastly different from the other, different goals, different methods, there is but one tie to us all... Survival.

It is with heavy heart that I leave formally, it is however entrusted that informally I remain and will always have a place there.

I will continue to make them fear the light.

Needless things

I crawled on my belly like the snake that I was accused of being, to the hospital and found a wheelchair to use for the coming days. My head was swimming, I had wronged my best friend, betrayed him to his eyes and for that he discarded me. He will not see my ways and I damn my humanity for giving me emotion. Were I so without it I would have no care for doing as I was made to perform. If I were as heartless as others call me things would be so much easier.

But there I sit within the library day after day, shelving what I can, aiding those who I may. There is not a purpose for this form, I have come to realize. These legs that do not work ate pointless to have. This body is far from perfect as well. The face is all wrong as us the overall structure of it. The nose is crooked, the eyes are too wide and the breasts are all together mispronounced on the cheat. The legs are too long but what does it matter when the no longer work.

This is a very disturbing line of thought, but it is a wretched cycle, the likes of which I cannot find reprieve until I am mended to continue. If my spine refuses to right itself then off with my legs.

It had been three days wince I returned. The haunted if hell fresh in my mind, as well as the loss of near everything dear to me. The Denenthorn would drop me so also means that I had lost dear Viviane. The two have always gone hand in hand and it felt heavy for such knowledge. I rolled the blasted chair to a store house at the edge of toxia.

I would rid myself of these legs and then my heart and to finalize this torment, I would lobotomize myself and hopefully perish eternally from the undertaking, let my mind be free if my body is cursed to remain.

I searched the storehouse for an ice pick it a skewer, something log to drive within my brain. I found a discarded swizzle stick and settled with a sigh. I unsheathed my large knife and raised it high and I pushed my leg out with my other hand. I let the blade fall with a sickening shunk, it didn't hurt at all but the bone was in the way. I was starting to saw when I heard a voice behind me.

It was Denenthorn. He asked what I was doing, but really I was incredibly fearful of him, what more he could take of me is beyond my thoughts now but he approached me. He restored my body and bade for me to stand.

Out of the frying pan...

I didn't remember that mud was cold, that water was wet, or that air could be breathable (considering) when I woke again at the bay of Toxia.

I fumbled for my glasses, putting them on with shaking hands, i tried to drown out the raging voices in my head; too busy to notice anything round me.

It wasn't until Denenthorn was right upon me that I had sense of place. My place now was in the midst of Denenthorn's blade. Pain racked my upper body as all feeling in my legs was cut off by the exact severing of my spine. My wings unfurled, a shining sapphire amongst thise feathers and with a quick yank my conquest was gone. Denenthorn stole back Eversoris. He accused me of an attempted murder against him to which i denied flat out.

Denenthorn believed my lesson to be that it was all right to be dark, to be free in being evil. It was not the case at all. I tried to explain to him my plans of perfection, that by what he asked me was to make him perfect, his soul so shattered I only meant to remove the extra pieces. He would have nine of it. He told me that he does not wish to be perfect, who is he to have such wants and be in control of them?! I know just what he would say to that rhetoric as well. That he is Denenthorn Darkstorm Masukami, that he is Righteous and that he is as such, the Prince of light...

He does not understand what it is to be haunted by imperfection. I only wished to help him to such a place, that which Gods can only create. To be perfect is to be pure, he does not and will not understand my vision, not understand my very existence. The preparations must be made for the time of Her coming. The world will be perfect, those that are not perfect will be fixed to her vision, I have so much ahead of me no mortal could dream of it!

Denenthorn knelt over my helpless form. He refused to hear me, he brought upon the guilt as he asked how his dearest Viviane would feel should he have left this world. She would understand my want to make him happy, she would understand my want to make her happy as well, they both would NOT understand the method; this has become abundantly clear.

He took from me my happiness, removing the feathered gifts which he'd given me that would let me glance to memories so easily lost. He then took more revenge for my work and removed my eye. Admittedly I was stunned for him to commit such acts against me and my beliefs. With as long as it took for me to actually trust him and give all what I could for him he cast it away in mere moments.

I am now more alone than I have ever felt before. The body is ruined of its usefulness, my entrapment is within myself. However, before I can fix any of this, I must get out of this wretched swamp.

I devised a plan to release Denenthorn. I didn't think he'd go along with it willingly, thus I had to betray the one of two that I have truely come to call friend here. The thought hurts even now.

I asked him to meet me in the usual spot, atop the hospital, to speak on a matter of importance. I had him examine me, a made up wound upon me, in a difficult place so that he would have to get close.

I did trick him and managed to stab him as a misdirection to upper cut into his nose. This attack knocked him out and on the ground. I worked quickly to finish my design on his face. It was perfect but I needed to set him free, to remember me and remind him of the strife he put me through, to help me.

I knew his eye contained power, he had as of several months ago kept it hidden behind an eye patch. I took my scissors and with a precise jab popped his eye from the socket. I kept it secret, I kept it safe. I left him on the roof knowing he we be safe from harm until he would come to.

I secreted myself back to the library, preparing myself for the backlash I thought would come within the hour.

But all was quiet.

I waiting, becoming anxious, I started to pace. I walked in circle in front of the fire, I started counting, there was always something to count in the library. Then I thought I heard a clearing of the throat. It sounded as though it were just behind me but, when I turned to greet whomever was there, I was alone.

I searched for a possible citizen, traveled upstairs an looked between shelves. I was just reaching the Hemingway collection when I heard, too close to be someone beside me, "You piece of shit, twit."

I knew this voice, it had been a long time since I'd seen Eversoris, but here he was, in my head. "What in the hell do you think you're doing." therein was a whirlwind of dark whispers. Most of these voices were in languages I did not understand but all were berating, all threatening and each of them calling foul to my betrayal against Denenthorn. Eversoris spoke again, "I'm going to make you regret what you have done.". The eye in my pocket had gone hard like a stone and I felt it vibrate. A tug, a twist and then all was darkness around me.

I was not in the library. I was not even in Toxia, but I daresay that I would have given near anything to return there again.

This was hell, I knew not by sight, but by smell. It is the smell that every demon carries, it can never come off. I did not have to see where I was being taken but I did open my eyes. There was nothing here that I had not already dreamt... Though in dreams one has the ability to wake up.

I was flown through the pits and valleys, twisting and winding downward, where orange became red, red to black and black into blue. It was in this blue void that I was strapped down and for e through countless physical torture, performed by Eversoris. Time is different here, a week away and I had spent lifetimes parted. It was filled with physical beatings, The knowledge of my body is now full in my understanding of it, I know my thresholds quite clearly and fir once I longed to have a memory of being held and protected. To only have what is written or told by experience, by another, is worthless.

I did not expect to see Eversoris give mercy, but after what must have been my seventieth lifetime, he released me. He swept me through and up and rocketed me out of hell onto the muck of the swamplands in Toxia.

I was out, the stone ceased vibrating in my pocket, my clothed were unmarred save for a bit of smoldering at my shoulders. The brimstone will fade from my wings but not a scratch was upon my body. I had not aged a moment, though the memory was bright in my mind, I had to collect myself.

I had already run out of time, the Darkstorm was already upon me. When I did realize, such folly, I was ruined where my mercy was delivered.

An act of violence

Denenthorn has asked me to perform an act of violence against him. His is willfully going to allow my hands, my skill to slice his skin and press ink within those cuts, more like punter wounds. He wishes of me a traditional Maori design ... I know what I have in mind and I have studied his body so intricately in the last three years that I will be able to map it out in perfect precision.

I have the materials on hand, stashed along with my other art supplies working he walls of the asylum on the third floor of the hospital. All the is left is for my canvas to arrive with me.

He is displeased with the place, I in turn confess my regrets to him but cannot help the feeling for the need of utter privacy. No one comes here anymore for the same reasons I never had visitors when I stayed her some 160 years ago. It is a dreadful place, filled with lonesomeness, abandonment, and the screams if boredom.

Denenthorn lays down, stripped if his clothing. His form is immaculate as always. I must admit that the humanesque form is rather disgusting in most cases. I feel the need to make changes in most, but little can be changed on his form, at least physically.

Let me trail off a while as these acts... These thoughts might seem a bit odd for me. It has been too long since I have written anything. Since Michon left this world, assuming to the next, he was captured by Spectre. His soul us in the fatal grasp of a demon and I have been restless. I have hardly slept, hardly been able to concentrate on more than what is at hand for near a year. I had been forced to self preservation by Michon, he had to die if I were to continue, I could only hope that he would be delivered into the rift hands so that I may meet with him later. Since his capture I have been in dealings with Selk'Tar'Oth and admittedly it does not always show my best side but to be stronger I had to reclaim a portion of my destiny, at least for a while. Selk'Tar'Oth and I have merged to one, as we were when I was still alive. She is no longer just pulling the strings as Yaweh would, she and I are working like a well oiled machine.

As I had reclaimed the memories of my mortal life, tue reasons and motivations for how and why I do things became clear. Selk is one with order in chaos. She approved of my vision in perfection long ago. When the nightmares made sense is when I knew she was with me.

Now that we are together I can look at the wretched fools for a higher purpose. Too long have I stood on this plane and been abused. Too long I have sat and watched as rape, humiliation, torture and murder have commenced with hardly a reason to it. These beings, bound to this existence have no use within them save to power the machine of
my own creation.

There remain, a mere handful of creatures I have taken fondness to. These being I will kill personally, mercifully, before my design is set into place. They will go where they meant but Toxia will be the first to be claimed.

Denny being one of these people, he lay before me just as his god had created him. I doubly check my measurements in my head before I start. The design is already upon him, merely have to strike it into existence for him to see it too.

The work was meticulous, the conversation idle. Strike after strike to his body was like one upon my own. I watched him bleed and waited to clean it away, the final work was to be a surprise. When I came to his shoulders, working from the bottom up, Selk spoke to me. I nearly missed my mark as she reminded me what was to come next. It was to be Denenthorn's face.

Immediately the face of that boy was in my mind. The fact I had fixed his features, in the act killing him unknowingly. He was staring at me, just as he did when my father yanked me away. Sell whispered, "The time is now, you are too evenly matched and he bows to you."

My rhythm hesitated, Denenthorn noticed. I had hit too hard and he yelled at me. The time wasn't right. There is a ways more yet to go. I stopped. I told him I was finished and struggled hard against my wing to keep it down.

He dressed, seemed upset, and left. I stayed a while and cleaned up my tools, all the while arguing with Selk.

I wasn't finished. Selk and I came to the agreement that the design must be completed or she would leave me again. I had to make Denenthorn happy, I bad to free him before I would have to kill him. I had to show him what has happened inside my head so that he would understand, maybe even find a way to save me.

The Fight

The dearest librarians rallied together. The would force Michon to their grounds and defeat him. They would have to be quick tongued and quick on their feet.

I read the reports of the happening some time later and all had their part.

Mina was to spot Michon first. Rivers would follow soon after, his own emotions over took him and he struck first. Mina would stand back to watch in case something terrible were to happen. Rivers practically tackles Michon, yelling at him, "You vile creature! How could you lie to my sister!" he threw him form the building on which Michon had perched himself. Roxy was quick to throw herself on top of Michon and hold him down while Octobre made quick work with bindings that Lorne had created and imbued with a deep power to keep him bound. Octobre would not stop there, to further hinder him he shot ice through Michon's legs to keep him immobile, Roxy would so effeminately deliver a well placed kick to Michon's crotch. Rivers made his final peace with a kick to Michon's head and they all whisked him back to the library's basement where I had set up a welcoming of my own.

It had been days since Michon was seen and I was getting so tired. I let Selk'Tar'Oth over take me a bit to give me strength. My head turned black, my eyes smoking with darkness, even my wings wilted and curled unhealthily. I was not so much Felice as I was Her and I was more than ready to take on this giant.

When Michon was brought Octobre laid him over the table, securing him tightly and left me there with him. Lorne appeared from the depths of the darkness and cast some magic over Michon that would force him to live and feel every pain that I would deliever to him, Lorne turned Michon mortal.


I cut his chest open. I said that he would become my newest masterpiece. I was not myself... not as most would know me. Not as many would see me. I was Sister Dementia for certain at this time but I was as always driven by Felice. It was my hand, it was my words, I just needed the push from Her to stay my hand.

I tore his rib cage open, I cut it on either side to get to his heart. Just as he played with mine, I would play with his and he would never forget it. I would make sure of it.

"Lorne grins under the surgical mask, and chuckles lightly "Ah, the sound of bone under a saw. Unique. I hope you appreciate the privilage, Michon. Actual humans are not able to experience what it feels like to have their heart damaged enough that it no longer functions well enough to keep them alive. You, on the other hand, will have that opportunity. I have even taken the liberty of augmenting your nervous system's capacity for processing pain, so that it won't be overloaded, and cause you to miss out on any nuances.""

I reached into the cavity and used my own power to snap his ribs like chicken wings. I cupped his heart and took in the scent of his living blood. It held this muscle in my hands and looked into his face. He had come back, Michon was whole and he was terrified by what he saw.

I bore holes into his heart for my work to take place, root and grow.

"Felice Nightfire pushes her thumbs through to the other side, the creatures writhing still within him as she watches his face. "You stole my heart." she states, her dual tone resounding in the small room still, "I hardly want yours but only to show you what it is now." she mutters as a long barbed creature unfurls from her hand. It crawls around her wrist swiftly before diving into Michon's heart. It lengthens and twirls, fitting itself into each chamber still beating. The creature expands, letting its body lock itself within his heart so that with each beat the barbs would make her pain clear to him."

My work was finished but there was yet one more person for Michon to meet with. He deserved to have his say, he would be brought to the light as Felice would have wanted him to be.

"Felice Nightfire almost tenderly slide overs Michon's torso, pressing his muscles back into place once more as she mutters. A croaking sound from her chest can be hear as the creatures she set in Michon's body all scurry from him at once, creating new exits where there were none. These creatures crawl up her arms and into her mouth as she opens it, eating them as her hands work healing Michon's torso once more."

Michon would wait one more night and Felice would recover to deliver him.