Post by Deleted on May 24, 2015 0:10:18 GMT -5
Her. A shape shifter, barely pass the age of adulthood. A young woman that was brought to her untimely death through the actions of others, though she herself wasn’t completely blameless.
The name Hera was given to her by her Master at the age of twelve when she was found by him, scavenging for food. It was hope that was given to her that day, being taken in and learning how to control her abilities. Safe and warm finally. By the time she was thirteen, nearly fourteen, she was finally able to see what she truly appeared without her body continuously shaping her into something else.
Hera was a thin, dark skin girl with unruly hair that came to her shoulders and dark freckles that decorated her body. She had a pension for orange and made it a necessity to wear the color everyday possible. Her eyes were a deep brown, warm and bright when locked onto the man that saved her and gave her purpose so long ago. She took his word as truth and gave him her full loyalty. And in return she was treated like family. She was cared for and loved more than she thought ever possible.
Because of her abilities, she was given many missions, mainly those that were gathering information in nature. Her temper didn’t always help her in this, but she proved capable of gathering whatever her Master wished and able of getting herself out of sticky situations. She was uncanny in acting the parts given to her. Following order to the final detail. And that may have been what lead her to death. She was chosen to deliver a message for the Master to a cult member across large masses of land. Eagerly, she accepted the challenge and made her way to the Candle Cult.
Surprisingly or not, it was easy for Hera to infiltrate the cult. She kept to watching the members, slipping in for short periods of times only. There was a lot of information she had gathered on the members, each strange as the last, but her target had yet to reveal themselves. It wasn’t until a week of being undercover that the target had shown. Somehow they were able to sneak in without Hera’s knowledge, which shouldn’t be as surprising as it was. Master gave her many warning about the embodied form of death. Death has taken many forms with the rebirth of life, but this one was apparently more dangerous considering how human in form it was. But there was no mistaking it. The moment Hera’s eyes laid on the monster, she knew. Every instinct in her told her to run. Staying true to the mission, she ignored those feelings and perused her target.
Maybe she should have stayed back another week, studying the person that Master wanted her to give the message to, but she didn’t. She confronted the recipient two nights after their arrival. The person seemed amused with Hera, but she could feel those eyes following her everywhere under the mask. That was until she handed over the message and the feeling of those eyes were gone.
The message was parchment, wrapped up tightly and sealed with Master’s mark. It was impossible to open unless given to the recipient. A heavy weight fell over Hera’s shoulders when the monster looked over the seal, easing it open and reading the contents. The paper wrinkled as the cloaked cult member read the words and a strange, echoing hiss came from them.
“Godric.”
They hissed her Master’s name with such venomous hate. They went on, asking how he took a soul from her. Apparently this monster has been on the search for the missing soul. Hera didn’t know and took that as her moment to escape. She should have done so earlier, but curiosity had gotten the best of her. Taking off through the dense woods, she could only hope she got too far away for the other to chase. She was wrong. Dreadfully wrong.
She wasn’t even aware of the other until it was too late. The monster was on her, pinning her to the ground as black tar like substance dripped down around her. She screamed, demanding to be let go, but her captor ignored such pleas. Instead, demanded their questions answered. Who was she? How did she know where to find her? Why was she here? What was her Master planning? Did they have hold on any of the other cult members? Were there traitors amongst their group? Hera refused to answer most, lying where she could. Worry edged at the back of her mind, though. Why wasn’t this monster torturing her for information? And in a way, she wished the beast had done that.
The tar that dripped around her suddenly shot up around her and throw itself down her open mouth. It burned. It felt as if she was on fire. She couldn’t breathe. Her body convulsed as the tar filled her. She tried to scream, claw at the captor, or even at least close her mouth, but she couldn’t move. Her body felt heavy like stone. She believed that she was going to die, but that would have been too kind and wishful thinking. No, her vision died, but later, she awoke. She was sprawled across cushions, in a dimly lit room.
Hera was quick to get up and search her surroundings, but she couldn’t see much with the lighting. Irritated, she went to shift her eyes to something more doable with the darkness, but was fast to find out she couldn’t. In a panic, she stumbled out of the pit she awoke in, only taking note of the weird robe she wore once she stood. Touching the soft, white fabric she saw her hands. They were pale as death. A white that barely covered the darkness underneath it. Her hands reached out and brushed over the unfamiliar features. Searching the room again, she found a large mirror hanging off the far wall. She ran to it, taking in the sight of herself. She was taller, pale, and with the whitest hair she had ever seen. Her face was long, thin, and sharp in comparison to her more rounded face. Dull yellow eyes stared back at her as she stared to shake. This wasn’t her. Closing her eyes tightly, she tried to change again. Opening them and to her horror she was the same as before. Her heart raced to the point that it ached. She closed her eyes again and again, hoping that something would be different, but it never was. Not until a strikingly similar figure was beside her in a black rob.
The woman’s eyes glowed as she gave Hera a feral grin. The woman made quick in informing Hera that she better get used to her new form, that Hera would be used as a decoy to many that are in the cult while she looked for any that were in any connection to the her Master. She would be in full control of Hera’s body for the most part, using her until she gathered what she needed. Allowing Hera to use her form for this because of her form being so unknown to others and the ones that do know would be willing to help.
Before Hera could demand anymore answers or even make her escape, she felt herself being pulled back, within as her body moved without her. That was when the small whispers started. She couldn’t make out what they were saying, but it just kept to a dull roar.
“You’ll get used to it.”
That was the beast’s comfort. Unfortunately, she was right. Hera did get used to it.
Months, she had to play this part. It was humiliating. The things she had to say and do and all the while she heard that woman laughing in her mind and at times she swore the voices joined in. Eventually she stopped looking into mirrors or anything that held a reflection. It unsettled her every time she saw that face. If that monster was in control, it would twist and speak to her. She rather not deal with that. She kept to her prays, hoping that her Master would hear her eventually, before it was too late.
It wasn’t until near the end that she was gaining back control. That or the beast was playing with her. She wouldn’t be surprised. She tried to warn others, gain a bit of help, but that beast didn’t even bat an eye. It knew Hera had no hope. Speaking with members that knew did nothing for her. Some mocked her. Even in her last chance of hope, she pleaded with the leader, telling the woman things that had happened to her. All to no luck. She decided tell the leader things about their fellow member that would surely do something and it did. Her body froze up. She didn’t even feel as the blade of the scythe slipped through her neck and vanished before anyone could see it. Her head falling, detaching from her was a surreal experience, but she didn’t die. Her body was lofted up on a tall man’s shoulder while that monster took care of her head.
Her body was tossed haphazardly to the floor in the room she spent too many nights in. She actually thought she was going to be left to rot when a searing pain ripped through her and her soul was removed from her body.
She had used up her usefulness, the beast told her. But as a kindness, Hera’s soul was going to be returned to her Master.
The name Hera was given to her by her Master at the age of twelve when she was found by him, scavenging for food. It was hope that was given to her that day, being taken in and learning how to control her abilities. Safe and warm finally. By the time she was thirteen, nearly fourteen, she was finally able to see what she truly appeared without her body continuously shaping her into something else.
Hera was a thin, dark skin girl with unruly hair that came to her shoulders and dark freckles that decorated her body. She had a pension for orange and made it a necessity to wear the color everyday possible. Her eyes were a deep brown, warm and bright when locked onto the man that saved her and gave her purpose so long ago. She took his word as truth and gave him her full loyalty. And in return she was treated like family. She was cared for and loved more than she thought ever possible.
Because of her abilities, she was given many missions, mainly those that were gathering information in nature. Her temper didn’t always help her in this, but she proved capable of gathering whatever her Master wished and able of getting herself out of sticky situations. She was uncanny in acting the parts given to her. Following order to the final detail. And that may have been what lead her to death. She was chosen to deliver a message for the Master to a cult member across large masses of land. Eagerly, she accepted the challenge and made her way to the Candle Cult.
Surprisingly or not, it was easy for Hera to infiltrate the cult. She kept to watching the members, slipping in for short periods of times only. There was a lot of information she had gathered on the members, each strange as the last, but her target had yet to reveal themselves. It wasn’t until a week of being undercover that the target had shown. Somehow they were able to sneak in without Hera’s knowledge, which shouldn’t be as surprising as it was. Master gave her many warning about the embodied form of death. Death has taken many forms with the rebirth of life, but this one was apparently more dangerous considering how human in form it was. But there was no mistaking it. The moment Hera’s eyes laid on the monster, she knew. Every instinct in her told her to run. Staying true to the mission, she ignored those feelings and perused her target.
Maybe she should have stayed back another week, studying the person that Master wanted her to give the message to, but she didn’t. She confronted the recipient two nights after their arrival. The person seemed amused with Hera, but she could feel those eyes following her everywhere under the mask. That was until she handed over the message and the feeling of those eyes were gone.
The message was parchment, wrapped up tightly and sealed with Master’s mark. It was impossible to open unless given to the recipient. A heavy weight fell over Hera’s shoulders when the monster looked over the seal, easing it open and reading the contents. The paper wrinkled as the cloaked cult member read the words and a strange, echoing hiss came from them.
“Godric.”
They hissed her Master’s name with such venomous hate. They went on, asking how he took a soul from her. Apparently this monster has been on the search for the missing soul. Hera didn’t know and took that as her moment to escape. She should have done so earlier, but curiosity had gotten the best of her. Taking off through the dense woods, she could only hope she got too far away for the other to chase. She was wrong. Dreadfully wrong.
She wasn’t even aware of the other until it was too late. The monster was on her, pinning her to the ground as black tar like substance dripped down around her. She screamed, demanding to be let go, but her captor ignored such pleas. Instead, demanded their questions answered. Who was she? How did she know where to find her? Why was she here? What was her Master planning? Did they have hold on any of the other cult members? Were there traitors amongst their group? Hera refused to answer most, lying where she could. Worry edged at the back of her mind, though. Why wasn’t this monster torturing her for information? And in a way, she wished the beast had done that.
The tar that dripped around her suddenly shot up around her and throw itself down her open mouth. It burned. It felt as if she was on fire. She couldn’t breathe. Her body convulsed as the tar filled her. She tried to scream, claw at the captor, or even at least close her mouth, but she couldn’t move. Her body felt heavy like stone. She believed that she was going to die, but that would have been too kind and wishful thinking. No, her vision died, but later, she awoke. She was sprawled across cushions, in a dimly lit room.
Hera was quick to get up and search her surroundings, but she couldn’t see much with the lighting. Irritated, she went to shift her eyes to something more doable with the darkness, but was fast to find out she couldn’t. In a panic, she stumbled out of the pit she awoke in, only taking note of the weird robe she wore once she stood. Touching the soft, white fabric she saw her hands. They were pale as death. A white that barely covered the darkness underneath it. Her hands reached out and brushed over the unfamiliar features. Searching the room again, she found a large mirror hanging off the far wall. She ran to it, taking in the sight of herself. She was taller, pale, and with the whitest hair she had ever seen. Her face was long, thin, and sharp in comparison to her more rounded face. Dull yellow eyes stared back at her as she stared to shake. This wasn’t her. Closing her eyes tightly, she tried to change again. Opening them and to her horror she was the same as before. Her heart raced to the point that it ached. She closed her eyes again and again, hoping that something would be different, but it never was. Not until a strikingly similar figure was beside her in a black rob.
The woman’s eyes glowed as she gave Hera a feral grin. The woman made quick in informing Hera that she better get used to her new form, that Hera would be used as a decoy to many that are in the cult while she looked for any that were in any connection to the her Master. She would be in full control of Hera’s body for the most part, using her until she gathered what she needed. Allowing Hera to use her form for this because of her form being so unknown to others and the ones that do know would be willing to help.
Before Hera could demand anymore answers or even make her escape, she felt herself being pulled back, within as her body moved without her. That was when the small whispers started. She couldn’t make out what they were saying, but it just kept to a dull roar.
“You’ll get used to it.”
That was the beast’s comfort. Unfortunately, she was right. Hera did get used to it.
Months, she had to play this part. It was humiliating. The things she had to say and do and all the while she heard that woman laughing in her mind and at times she swore the voices joined in. Eventually she stopped looking into mirrors or anything that held a reflection. It unsettled her every time she saw that face. If that monster was in control, it would twist and speak to her. She rather not deal with that. She kept to her prays, hoping that her Master would hear her eventually, before it was too late.
It wasn’t until near the end that she was gaining back control. That or the beast was playing with her. She wouldn’t be surprised. She tried to warn others, gain a bit of help, but that beast didn’t even bat an eye. It knew Hera had no hope. Speaking with members that knew did nothing for her. Some mocked her. Even in her last chance of hope, she pleaded with the leader, telling the woman things that had happened to her. All to no luck. She decided tell the leader things about their fellow member that would surely do something and it did. Her body froze up. She didn’t even feel as the blade of the scythe slipped through her neck and vanished before anyone could see it. Her head falling, detaching from her was a surreal experience, but she didn’t die. Her body was lofted up on a tall man’s shoulder while that monster took care of her head.
Her body was tossed haphazardly to the floor in the room she spent too many nights in. She actually thought she was going to be left to rot when a searing pain ripped through her and her soul was removed from her body.
She had used up her usefulness, the beast told her. But as a kindness, Hera’s soul was going to be returned to her Master.