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IC - General / The fate of Seramine
« on: July 28, 2011, 06:23:46 am »
OOC: I found this written out in the bottom of my dresser drawer. It never got posted for some reason...
Seramine woke once again in the ornate, luxurious bedroom. This was not the usual place where she would wake after dying. Onarya was not here, smirking at her. No, she had woken here once before, and knew that it was the palace of her Goddess in Murcaste. She moved swiftly to the large wardrobe. The summons to the throne room could come at any time. Inside of the wardrobe there were no beautiful dresses as there had been the last time. There was only a black robe. By sight, it appeared to be made from fine silk, but upon touching it, it seemed to be made from Shadow. When she slipped it on, the front closed seemlessly of it's own accord. The material clung and flowed at the same time, the hem swirling around her bare feet. She stood expectantly in the middle of the room staring at the door.
Minutes passed.
Hours.
Seramine focused her thoughts and meditated to maintain her patience. How long could Kaelan be without her? She began to pace. All of the threats against her daughter...!...no, she mustn't think of that now. Calmness. Cool poise. This is what was expected of the Shadow Mistress of Sophism. She sat on the plush wing-back chair next to the window when her feet and legs began to tire from standing.
Hours passed.
She felt no fatigue other than her muscles, and did not grow hungry, but it felt as though days passed as she sat in the chair. Kaelan...no, no, she could not think of her now. The fastest way to return to her daughter was to appease her Mistress and then she would be returned to Tharel and her daughter. But why was she here? She had not been unfaithful in deed. Not technically...but in her thoughts, in her soul...
There was a knock at the door, and Seramine stood, gathering calmness about her. An extremely handsome young male human opened the door at her word. Seramine felt the insult immediately. In this place, surely a young man would be the lowest of the low servants. Not one which would be sent for the foremost leader of the Mistress' temple.
He lead her down several corridors, and eventually stopped in front of ornately carved, large ebony doors. He grasped the handle and swung one open, carefully sidestepping so that he could not be seen in the hall beyond. Seramine stepped through the door and stopped. The throne at the opposite end was shrouded in Shadow. The door closed with a soft, solid sound behind her.
The shadows swirled, and revealed the goddess Jirah lounging in her throne. Seramine immediately prostrated herself, saying,
"As you have summoned me, Mistress, so have I come."
Jirah gave a low, throaty chuckle, which was somehow threatening. They both knew that she had had no option in this summons.
A rose appeared in front of Seramine's face, and a whip in the goddess' hand.
"Bring it to me, Seramine."
She reached out to pluck it from the polished stone floor with her fingers, but the whip lashed out, striking her fingertips just as they reached the stem.
"Ah, ah!! Not with your hands, Seramine. You'll bring them to me in your beautiful little mouth"
Seramine gingerly closed her teeth around the stem, but the thorns were sharp and thick, catching on her lips no matter how careful she was. As she rose to approach the throne, the whip lashed out again.
"I did not say you could rise!"
She crawled towards the throne. As she was nearly half way there, the whip cracked again, and she cowered lower. She didn't dare stop, but dropped to her elbows and toes. She dared not cran her neck to look up, and only stopped when she could see the perfectly manicured toes of her goddess in front of her. She dropped the rose before the throne, the blood on the thorns as red as the blossom.
"And the next."
Seramine lost count of the roses she brought to the throne like a dog bringing her owner a stick. Her lips raw and bleeding from the thorns, and several marks from the whip. Hours seemed to pass. Days? She dropped another rose before the throne.
"Seramine."
"Yes, Mistress?"
"You may look upon me."
"Thank you, Mistress."
The goddess cupped her chin, and Seramine couldn't help but feel worshipful euphoria at her touch.
"You have never gone against me in actual fact of deed, Seramine. Therefore I shall be lenient with you. But I feel you could use some more...direct supervision."
"I will do as you say, Mistress" The goddess' low throaty and threatening chuckle emanated from her chest once more, and she withdrew her hand, the shadows slipping around her once more.
Seramine woke once again in the ornate, luxurious bedroom. This was not the usual place where she would wake after dying. Onarya was not here, smirking at her. No, she had woken here once before, and knew that it was the palace of her Goddess in Murcaste. She moved swiftly to the large wardrobe. The summons to the throne room could come at any time. Inside of the wardrobe there were no beautiful dresses as there had been the last time. There was only a black robe. By sight, it appeared to be made from fine silk, but upon touching it, it seemed to be made from Shadow. When she slipped it on, the front closed seemlessly of it's own accord. The material clung and flowed at the same time, the hem swirling around her bare feet. She stood expectantly in the middle of the room staring at the door.
Minutes passed.
Hours.
Seramine focused her thoughts and meditated to maintain her patience. How long could Kaelan be without her? She began to pace. All of the threats against her daughter...!...no, she mustn't think of that now. Calmness. Cool poise. This is what was expected of the Shadow Mistress of Sophism. She sat on the plush wing-back chair next to the window when her feet and legs began to tire from standing.
Hours passed.
She felt no fatigue other than her muscles, and did not grow hungry, but it felt as though days passed as she sat in the chair. Kaelan...no, no, she could not think of her now. The fastest way to return to her daughter was to appease her Mistress and then she would be returned to Tharel and her daughter. But why was she here? She had not been unfaithful in deed. Not technically...but in her thoughts, in her soul...
There was a knock at the door, and Seramine stood, gathering calmness about her. An extremely handsome young male human opened the door at her word. Seramine felt the insult immediately. In this place, surely a young man would be the lowest of the low servants. Not one which would be sent for the foremost leader of the Mistress' temple.
He lead her down several corridors, and eventually stopped in front of ornately carved, large ebony doors. He grasped the handle and swung one open, carefully sidestepping so that he could not be seen in the hall beyond. Seramine stepped through the door and stopped. The throne at the opposite end was shrouded in Shadow. The door closed with a soft, solid sound behind her.
The shadows swirled, and revealed the goddess Jirah lounging in her throne. Seramine immediately prostrated herself, saying,
"As you have summoned me, Mistress, so have I come."
Jirah gave a low, throaty chuckle, which was somehow threatening. They both knew that she had had no option in this summons.
A rose appeared in front of Seramine's face, and a whip in the goddess' hand.
"Bring it to me, Seramine."
She reached out to pluck it from the polished stone floor with her fingers, but the whip lashed out, striking her fingertips just as they reached the stem.
"Ah, ah!! Not with your hands, Seramine. You'll bring them to me in your beautiful little mouth"
Seramine gingerly closed her teeth around the stem, but the thorns were sharp and thick, catching on her lips no matter how careful she was. As she rose to approach the throne, the whip lashed out again.
"I did not say you could rise!"
She crawled towards the throne. As she was nearly half way there, the whip cracked again, and she cowered lower. She didn't dare stop, but dropped to her elbows and toes. She dared not cran her neck to look up, and only stopped when she could see the perfectly manicured toes of her goddess in front of her. She dropped the rose before the throne, the blood on the thorns as red as the blossom.
"And the next."
Seramine lost count of the roses she brought to the throne like a dog bringing her owner a stick. Her lips raw and bleeding from the thorns, and several marks from the whip. Hours seemed to pass. Days? She dropped another rose before the throne.
"Seramine."
"Yes, Mistress?"
"You may look upon me."
"Thank you, Mistress."
The goddess cupped her chin, and Seramine couldn't help but feel worshipful euphoria at her touch.
"You have never gone against me in actual fact of deed, Seramine. Therefore I shall be lenient with you. But I feel you could use some more...direct supervision."
"I will do as you say, Mistress" The goddess' low throaty and threatening chuckle emanated from her chest once more, and she withdrew her hand, the shadows slipping around her once more.