Eddie’s Words

[Edema Rue]

On 1/5/2024 at 3:56 PM, Edema Rue said:

Well...7000th post! Stars, that's a big number. I didn't want it to get lost in RP (like all my other milestones lol) but all I had was a short scene I was in the middle of writing...and that got significantly darker than I thought it was going to. I'm still putting it here, but uh...yeah. It's kind of long and kind of dark. Sorry.

TW: Suicide, death, lots of gore, cannibalism, being possessed, more gore...yeah.

Control:

  Reveal hidden contents

I know what it is to be powerless. I know what it is to have no control. To be watched without ever being seen…to touch without being felt…I know these feelings well. It has been so many years…so long…but I’ve adapted. I’ve learned…

When the girl awoke, she couldn’t move. She tried to stand, but couldn’t, so she tried to cry out, but her voice wouldn’t make a sound…

That initial spike of terror is one of the greatest pleasures I still have. The panic that comes with not controlling your own body…oh, yes. When the one thing that has always been yours and yours alone is ripped from your control…and oh, how humans love their control. Taking it from them produces such a strong fear…but after that spike, every human reacts just a little differently. That’s where the hunt gets…interesting.

The girl felt her heart pounding. Her breathing would have sped up, but…but she couldn’t control her own breath. A tear dripped from her eye, soaking into her pillow. Then another, until her pillow was soaked. Still, she could not move. Her breath was steady…she felt a smile curl across her lips. 

I never have been able to figure out how to keep them from crying. Isn’t that strange? Every other part of her body is mine, and yet she still weeps…a pity, I suppose, but perhaps I should be glad for it. It keeps them from retreating into their minds, keeps them tethered to the bodies I now control…

The girl struggled for control. To take even a deeper breath, twitch her finger, anything…

They fight, sometimes. It used to give me trouble, when I was weaker. But I am not who I was, and I’ve learned a few tricks…

The girl felt herself stop breathing. Her eyes bulged as she tried frantically to draw breath with limbs that wouldn’t listen, into lungs that wouldn’t expand…

I let her stop breathing for longer than was necessary. How could I not? Her desperate struggle was utterly fruitless, her terror so sweet, and once I let air rush into her…

She stopped struggling. This was not a power she should fight. This was not a battle she would survive.

There is danger in controlling a body that isn’t your own. You have to be careful, if you want them alive. 

And I like them alive.

After all, I subsist entirely on their fear, do I not? 

And the dead do not fear…

She stood up. No, no, it wasn’t her. Just her body. She’d never thought there was a difference, but now it was stark and clear…her body was walking. She was not. Her body was moving and she was stuck inside it and there was no escape from the nightmare she was living.

Terror tastes the sweetest. Not to all of my kind, I am sure, but…humans are allowed their favorite foods. We are the same way. I like terror. It’s difficult to get it just right…like seasoning a particularly thick steak. It comes easily in small bursts, but prolonging it? There are many kinds of fear. I must be careful, lest I let terror wilt to simply fear, or evolve into anxiety, which fades to stress…so many variations of the same flavor.

There was a person in front of her. The girl knew the person. It was…it was her brother. She had no way of telling him she was not herself, no way of-

“Hey,” he said.

“Hey,” her mouth repeated, in her voice. She was still walking, walking closer to him, to the hunting knife at his belt…

The girl wanted to scream. Wanted to yell for him to run. Wanted to stop, stop, stop! But she was still walking…and then she took two quick steps, almost like a dance, and her hands were around the long hunting knife at his belt. He frowned as she held it in front of her, still smiling, still crying, still trapped in a body she no longer controlled.

Despair, though, makes for a much better food source. It isn’t as fun, because it doesn’t take as much of a hunt, doesn’t take as much effort…the hearts of mortals are such fragile things, and their broken edges are so wonderfully…routine, almost. Isn’t that funny? They build their lives around the assumption that everything they have will come to an end. And then, when it does, they weep salty tears to quench my thirst.

She raised her arm and brought the knife down, into his neck. He stumbled back, hands reaching for his throat, and her smile turned cruel. “Sleep well, brother,” her voice said.

The body collapsed. The girl ran over to it, barely noticing that she controlled her own body once more. Her tears were falling faster now, her face turning red and blotchy. “No, no, no,” she whispered.

You can’t take the body completely. If you do, they'll grow numb. Numb…is like hunger. It’s a void. If you push a human too far, break them until they can’t feel any longer, you’ll lose your meal. You’ve failed  your hunt. I rarely break mine. Not anymore. Practice makes perfect, I suppose…and I’ve certainly had practice. I do not like being hungry…but shock is unavoidable, sometimes. 

The girl stared at her hands, and the blood still flowing from…from…from the…the corpse. She stumbled back, horrified. She’d…she’d killed a person. Not just a person. Her family. Her breath started coming quicker. 

Breathing is a strange feeling. I don’t miss it. Humans always seem to, though…

The fear was returning. Growing, too. The girl found herself thinking about how she’d explain this to the people that were sure to be here any moment…any…she was standing up. Was that her? She couldn’t…couldn’t tell. Her breathing was speeding up, and she didn’t know if it was this…this thing controlling her, or if it was the fear, the terror, the panic, the…the…

Bliss. Utter bliss, distilled from the terror of the weak. 

A soft groan escaped the girl’s lips. It wasn’t hers.

It was mine. My pleasure, bubbling out of her.

The girl’s mouth twisted into a wide grin. It hurt. It was too big. It didn’t fit with the tears that dripped silently from her chin. Her hand tossed her brother’s knife into the air, and it flipped, and she caught it. 

The funny thing about fighting is that so much of it is simply practice. Muscle memory. I don’t have muscles. But I know how humans work. And all it takes is learning with one person…they’re all the same. And all utterly meaningless…but they feed me, and that is a worthy purpose. But that is beside the point. I can make them do things they never learned to do. I can make them dance…

The girl was walking again. The wood floor creaked under her bare foot. With a sinking sort of dread, she saw stain seeping from under the door…

She wanted to turn back. Wanted to leave. But her hand reached for the doorknob.

I spent a long while setting everything up. I couldn’t just let it go to waste now, could I?

The door swung open. The girl cried harder.

I’ve always wondered what I could do if I could control more than one person at a time. How delightful, to have two puppets dancing to my strings…what fun, neither of them in control, both of them producing terror enough that I could finally be filled…

The dead were everywhere. They must have been her parents. The must have been. No one else was in the room…but the remains were impossible to identify. A finger here. A blood-soaked cloak there. Splinters of bone arranged in a perfect, white heart that floated in a puddle that was surely too red to be blood…

It’s incredible, how much blood there is in a human body. 

The girl saw only fragments. Limbs, cracked and broken. A stomach, torn open and spilling organs onto the floor.

Human screams don’t satisfy me. But they certainly are a pleasure. So full of life, and emotion…everyone is allowed to enjoy their own music, right?

A face, peeled off of a skull and stuck to a looking glass…

I do love my performances. Some might think it a pity that they can only happen once…but those are the most beautiful sort of things. The most fragile.

A mismatched pair of legs, impaled on the same sword…

Only two bodies. But so much potential…their terror as I flitted between their minds, as they tore each other apart…

The girl wanted to vomit. There was some of that, too, splattered across the bed.

I do not need to be seen to be known. 

She sat down on the bed, between faceless heads with bloodied teeth. Her leg stretched out from below her dress. She whimpered, her pulse rising.

I can allow her such simple movements…such noises…After all, I must keep her connected to her pain…

Knife still firmly in her hand, it started toward her calf…and she began to carve, hand steady even as her eyes blurred with tears and her voice cracked from screaming…

With only one, I don’t get to dance. But the human body makes such a wonderful canvas…

Tiny swirls, at first, growing larger as she wrapped the design around her calf, her shin, climbed up to her thigh…

I don’t need to be tangible to be felt.

It continued for hours. The girl dropped into unconsciousness more than once.

I can control her while she sleeps, but there’s no fun in that…her pain is nothing to me if she doesn’t feel it.

Often, she thought she heard a voice in her head. “Do you like that, little girl?” “Would you like to see how they died?” “Are you ready to die yet?” She wept and wailed and pulled at the shackles that kept her imprisoned in her mind.

I do like talking to them. But not at first. First, they must be alone.

Eventually, I bored of the knife…

The girl clawed at her own face. Her eyes, her mouth, her hair. Jagged cuts ran across her cheeks. Blood dripped from an eyelid that was shut over an empty socket.

Face wounds are peculiar. They rarely do much damage, but they hurt…oh, they hurt…and they tend to crush whatever remains of a person’s hope. Once they can’t see, it’s as if they finally realize that they are stuck with me until I let them die.

The girl raised the dagger, one last time.

The end is near, now.

A slit for the left wrist,

But first, a final climax.

A slit for the right.

Her panic is at its peak, now.

Set the knife next to the mangled legs.

I take her other eye, too.

Put each finger into the mouth,

One at a time,

Now,

Bite,

Chew,

Swallow.

She flung her arms out,

Like a Queen on an altar,

And her terror peaked,

As tears dripped with blood from eyes that were no longer there.

And the girl died.

And I rose from the body.

Filled,

But never satisfied.

Um...

Yeah. 

So that happened. And on that note...happy 7000 posts?

@Kajsa I found itttttt :)))

(now you owe me words so there)

1 minute ago, Weaver of Lies said:

Dancer was a scary one.

Oh yeah!! That's the one that's published, though now it's both parts and it's called Wanderer.

[Weaver of Lies]

2 minutes ago, Edema Rue said:

Oh yeah!! That's the one that's published, though now it's both parts and it's called Wanderer.

That’s awesome!

[Edema Rue]

Guys guy please-

Please help-

Someone stop letting me write at night-

Especially creepy stuff-

I'm giving myself nightmares and I can't sleep-

How do you turn off your imagination???

Red:

Spoiler

The scarlet blood

On your pale skin

Is dangerously beautiful

Your lips

Your arms

Your neck

My hands

 

I want it

I want you.

 

I want 

To feel you tremble

As I

Taste

Your

Blood.

 

I want

To watch you

Panic

As you

Finally

Understand

That I

Can

Destroy

You.

 

I want

To paint

The glittering

Rubies

That drip

Enticingly

Onto

The floor.

 

I want

To bottle

You

And bring you

Out

When I

Am most lonely.

 

I want you.

I am

So

Hungry

And you

Smell

So

Sweet.

 

But I

Will hold on:

If you

Die today

I cannot taste

You

Tomorrow

 

So rest,

My love,

Be silent

And let me

Lick the red

From your lips.

 

I like to feel you quiver.

I like that you’re afraid.

I like that you don’t fight. 

I like the flavor of your tears

Mixed

With your blood.

 

Don’t move,

Precious.

My hands

Are shaky

And I’m

So hungry

That my razor

Just

Might

Slip.

 

Be still,

Darling

I’ve licked you clean

And I just

Might

Nibble.

 

You don’t need that finger,

Do you?

Or that one?

You have

So many

Can’t

I

Try

One?

 

I’m pulling

Your hair

It's strange

How much

it hurts you.

Are my fingers

Cold

On your

Neck?

Is that

Why

You're screaming

So loudly?

 

I’m trying

To taste

Your scream

It isn’t

As sweet

As your blood.

 

I only want

A little

More

Just one more

Sip

And then

I’ll stop

 

Please,

Love?

Can’t

I have

One

More

Taste?

 

Oh,

My darling.

Oh,

My dear.

Oh,

My.

 

Don’t speak,

My love.

I want your blood,

Not your voice.

 

The red

Is gone

From your

Pale skin

The sun

Comes up

And I

Must leave you

To

Its light

 

Enjoy your cage,

My precious.

I’ll be back

With the shadows.

 

[Wierdo]

7 hours ago, Edema Rue said:

Guys guy please-

Please help-

Someone stop letting me write at night-

Especially creepy stuff-

I'm giving myself nightmares and I can't sleep-

How do you turn off your imagination???

Red:

  Hide contents

The scarlet blood

On your pale skin

Is dangerously beautiful

Your lips

Your arms

Your neck

My hands

 

I want it

I want you.

 

I want 

To feel you tremble

As I

Taste

Your

Blood.

 

I want

To watch you

Panic

As you

Finally

Understand

That I

Can

Destroy

You.

 

I want

To paint

The glittering

Rubies

That drip

Enticingly

Onto

The floor.

 

I want

To bottle

You

And bring you

Out

When I

Am most lonely.

 

I want you.

I am

So

Hungry

And you

Smell

So

Sweet.

 

But I

Will hold on:

If you

Die today

I cannot taste

You

Tomorrow

 

So rest,

My love,

Be silent

And let me

Lick the red

From your lips.

 

I like to feel you quiver.

I like that you’re afraid.

I like that you don’t fight. 

I like the flavor of your tears

Mixed

With your blood.

 

Don’t move,

Precious.

My hands

Are shaky

And I’m

So hungry

That my razor

Just

Might

Slip.

 

Be still,

Darling

I’ve licked you clean

And I just

Might

Nibble.

 

You don’t need that finger,

Do you?

Or that one?

You have

So many

Can’t

I

Try

One?

 

I’m pulling

Your hair

It's strange

How much

it hurts you.

Are my fingers

Cold

On your

Neck?

Is that

Why

You're screaming

So loudly?

 

I’m trying

To taste

Your scream

It isn’t

As sweet

As your blood.

 

I only want

A little

More

Just one more

Sip

And then

I’ll stop

 

Please,

Love?

Can’t

I have

One

More

Taste?

 

Oh,

My darling.

Oh,

My dear.

Oh,

My.

 

Don’t speak,

My love.

I want your blood,

Not your voice.

 

The red

Is gone

From your

Pale skin

The sun

Comes up

And I

Must leave you

To

Its light

 

Enjoy your cage,

My precious.

I’ll be back

With the shadows.

 

Crazyy- woah 

[Weaver of Lies]

7 hours ago, Edema Rue said:

Guys guy please-

Please help-

Someone stop letting me write at night-

Especially creepy stuff-

I'm giving myself nightmares and I can't sleep-

How do you turn off your imagination???

Red:

  Hide contents

The scarlet blood

On your pale skin

Is dangerously beautiful

Your lips

Your arms

Your neck

My hands

 

I want it

I want you.

 

I want 

To feel you tremble

As I

Taste

Your

Blood.

 

I want

To watch you

Panic

As you

Finally

Understand

That I

Can

Destroy

You.

 

I want

To paint

The glittering

Rubies

That drip

Enticingly

Onto

The floor.

 

I want

To bottle

You

And bring you

Out

When I

Am most lonely.

 

I want you.

I am

So

Hungry

And you

Smell

So

Sweet.

 

But I

Will hold on:

If you

Die today

I cannot taste

You

Tomorrow

 

So rest,

My love,

Be silent

And let me

Lick the red

From your lips.

 

I like to feel you quiver.

I like that you’re afraid.

I like that you don’t fight. 

I like the flavor of your tears

Mixed

With your blood.

 

Don’t move,

Precious.

My hands

Are shaky

And I’m

So hungry

That my razor

Just

Might

Slip.

 

Be still,

Darling

I’ve licked you clean

And I just

Might

Nibble.

 

You don’t need that finger,

Do you?

Or that one?

You have

So many

Can’t

I

Try

One?

 

I’m pulling

Your hair

It's strange

How much

it hurts you.

Are my fingers

Cold

On your

Neck?

Is that

Why

You're screaming

So loudly?

 

I’m trying

To taste

Your scream

It isn’t

As sweet

As your blood.

 

I only want

A little

More

Just one more

Sip

And then

I’ll stop

 

Please,

Love?

Can’t

I have

One

More

Taste?

 

Oh,

My darling.

Oh,

My dear.

Oh,

My.

 

Don’t speak,

My love.

I want your blood,

Not your voice.

 

The red

Is gone

From your

Pale skin

The sun

Comes up

And I

Must leave you

To

Its light

 

Enjoy your cage,

My precious.

I’ll be back

With the shadows.

 

How? How are you so good at this?

 Amazing work as always.

[Edema Rue]

22 minutes ago, Wierdo said:

Crazyy- woah 

Thanks…

3 minutes ago, Weaver of Lies said:

How? How are you so good at this?

 Amazing work as always.

I…don’t know. Words are just…a part of me? They always have been. And my thought start to spiral, and so I let them spiral out onto a page, because then it’s not inside me. And it all looks so much less scary when it’s out of my mind. When it’s outside.

[Wierdo]

Just now, Edema Rue said:

Thanks…

I…don’t know. Words are just…a part of me? They always have been. And my thought start to spiral, and so I let them spiral out onto a page, because then it’s not inside me. And it all looks so much less scary when it’s out of my mind. When it’s outside.

*hug*

[Weaver of Lies]

3 minutes ago, Edema Rue said:

Thanks…

I…don’t know. Words are just…a part of me? They always have been. And my thought start to spiral, and so I let them spiral out onto a page, because then it’s not inside me. And it all looks so much less scary when it’s out of my mind. When it’s outside.

*hugs*

It makes you an amazing writer.

[Edema Rue]

2 minutes ago, Wierdo said:

*hug*

*hugs back* it’s ok, I’m all right today <33

Just now, Weaver of Lies said:

*hugs*

It makes you an amazing writer.

*hugs tightly*

[Spark of Hope]

Just now, Edema Rue said:

*hugs back* it’s ok, I’m all right today <33

*hugs tightly*

*slides into hug with chocolates*

[Wierdo]

1 minute ago, Edema Rue said:

*hugs back* it’s ok, I’m all right today <33

*hugs tightly*

Good-
*More hugs-*

[Edema Rue]

12 minutes ago, Spark of Hope said:

*slides into hug with chocolates*

*eats ALL the chocolate*

10 minutes ago, Wierdo said:

Good-
*More hugs-*

I love y’all-

so much-

[Edema Rue]

GUYS GUYS GUYS

LIZ

MY SWEET LITTLE DARLING

SHE LIVES!!

(thanks @Anguished_One and @The Wandering Wizard)

Empress:

Spoiler

The king wasn’t supposed to have a son.

He’d announced no heir, and he was supposed to be too honorable for concubines.

Liz grinned. The boy would have to die. She stalked through the corridors, a dagger in each hand, her torn cloak fluttering behind her. Occasionally, she neatly sidestepped a puddle of blood. A pity that they’d had tried to fight. These people hadn’t needed to die.

A sense of disapproval radiated through her, and she winced. It was strange, being connected to a being that was so other. Death was always hungry, and tonight he was feasting. He wouldn’t have her condemning his meal. Liz murmured a gentle prayer, not apologizing but yielding. As if she’d been given a chance to repent, a soldier came barreling around the corner towards her. She blinked, and then she was pulling her knife out of his neck and wiping it clean on her shirt. Warmth flowed through her, Death’s satisfaction, and suddenly she was laughing. The thrill. The thrill. Her hands were sticky and red, her hair was matted with blood, and surrounded by death she’d never felt more alive. What beautiful pleasure came from serving her god. This high was better than winning a bet. Just for a moment, groveling at his feet seemed to be paradise. Then she blinked and kept walking, forcing the ecstasy away. The others could kill for sport. Liz had a job to do.

But then she was in his rooms, and her hand trembled.

It smelled of flowers. Daisies. A thick bouquet of them, beautiful for their plainness, sat on a small table.

There was the sound of crying, and a woman’s gentle lullaby.

"Rest, my child

Rest, my dear.

The outside is dark

But look, I am here.

Sleep, my baby.

I'll hold you tight,

And always love you."

The screams from outside were dulled by the thick door, and Liz abruptly felt deeply out of place. She stepped further into the room and saw a boy of about five sitting in a woman’s lap. There was no doubt that he was the princeling. The woman gasped, pulling him against her chest.

“Please,” she whispered. “Please, don’t hurt him. You can kill me, he won’t ever know who he is. Please, just let my son live, please…”

She could have done it. She could have exiled them, imprisoned them, or just let them be. She could have killed the child and left the mother, or taken the child under her wing and destroyed the mother. But Death was hungry, and though she was loath to admit it, Liz was too. 

Then blood was dripping from pure white petals. The daisies had been a gift from the king. To my love, the note read. I picked them myself. You know I’d give you roses and diamonds. I’d give you palaces and servants. I’d give you the world itself, if you only asked. But these are your favorites, and so I’m learning to love them. They were so full of life. Liz hated them for it. “Your mistress is dead,” she murmured, pulling a single flower from the vase. “So is your master.” She crushed the stem in her hand, letting it fall into the puddle of blood that flowed from the woman’s neck. She watched it for a moment, then spun on her heel, slamming the door shut behind her. 

Slowly, slowly, the vase tipped off the table and shattered.

 

***

 

“Today,” Lord Marsvall intoned, “marks the beginning of a new era.”

Liz was knelt at the head of a column of assassins, head bowed so low that all she could see was the marble floor. Her knees and back ached from holding the position for so long, but she knew better than to show it. Even shifting slightly would result in punishment. Weakness was not tolerated here. 

“You have all performed admirably, and because of it I will be crowned king this afternoon.” He paused, as if waiting for applause, then seemed to remember that his assassins knew better than to make a sound. “Ah. You have all met my son, Iendenn.” Liz tensed, struggling to breath regularly. “He is to be the prince of this new nation. Soon, he will come home to lead you all. It will bring a new era of greatness for us all.”

Again, Lord Marsvall paused, then cleared his throat. “That will be all.”

But before anyone could move, Liz raised her head and met his eyes. “No,” she said. Coldly. Firmly. “It will not.” She could feel the others draw in a breath, almost as one. She could feel their muscles clenching, feel them preparing to reach for hidden weapons. Liz rose to her feet and stepped smoothly towards him. She smiled slyly. “My Lord.” 

“W-what is the meaning of this?” Lord Marsvall stuttered, droplets of sweat appearing on his forehead. “Lieutenants!” But the lord’s most trusted guards didn’t move. Liz nodded to them, and each gave her a nod in return. The assassins were hers.

“Terribly sorry, my Lord,” Liz continued, “but I’m afraid there will be no new king today.” She gazed out at the assembled assassins. “Look up,” she said. No one moved. “Look up!” Her voice cracked out like a whip, and two hundred eyes snapped to her. “Thank you.” Then, Death’s laughter echoing through her mind, she slid her dagger across Lord Marsvall’s throat. I’m sorry, Ien…but you’ll be better off this way. We all will. Or, we all would. If I wasn’t the one doing it.

It was so much easier than she’d expected.  One quick motion and he was dead. For a moment, all was silent. Then Uunz, ever faithful Uunz, bowed his head. “Empress,” he rasped. 

“Empress,” another took up the chant, bowing. 

“Empress.”

“Empress.”

“Empress.”

“Today I rule,” Liz announced, without pretense or preamble. “You’ve all given your loyalty to me. For that, you will be rewarded.” Then she let herself grin, meeting the eyes of several members of the crowd. “For that, you will be fed.”

Her words were met with a deafening roar. It filled her with a strange sort of dread. Or delight. Or…both? What fun this would be. Were they her feelings, or Death’s? She couldn’t quite tell. Poor, poor Ien. I’m going to break this world.

But I trust you to fix it.

 

[Weaver of Lies]

18 minutes ago, Edema Rue said:

GUYS GUYS GUYS

LIZ

MY SWEET LITTLE DARLING

SHE LIVES!!

(thanks @Anguished_One and @The Wandering Wizard)

Empress:

  Hide contents

The king wasn’t supposed to have a son.

He’d announced no heir, and he was supposed to be too honorable for concubines.

Liz grinned. The boy would have to die. She stalked through the corridors, a dagger in each hand, her torn cloak fluttering behind her. Occasionally, she neatly sidestepped a puddle of blood. A pity that they’d had tried to fight. These people hadn’t needed to die.

A sense of disapproval radiated through her, and she winced. It was strange, being connected to a being that was so other. Death was always hungry, and tonight he was feasting. He wouldn’t have her condemning his meal. Liz murmured a gentle prayer, not apologizing but yielding. As if she’d been given a chance to repent, a soldier came barreling around the corner towards her. She blinked, and then she was pulling her knife out of his neck and wiping it clean on her shirt. Warmth flowed through her, Death’s satisfaction, and suddenly she was laughing. The thrill. The thrill. Her hands were sticky and red, her hair was matted with blood, and surrounded by death she’d never felt more alive. What beautiful pleasure came from serving her god. This high was better than winning a bet. Just for a moment, groveling at his feet seemed to be paradise. Then she blinked and kept walking, forcing the ecstasy away. The others could kill for sport. Liz had a job to do.

But then she was in his rooms, and her hand trembled.

It smelled of flowers. Daisies. A thick bouquet of them, beautiful for their plainness, sat on a small table.

There was the sound of crying, and a woman’s gentle lullaby.

"Rest, my child

Rest, my dear.

The outside is dark

But look, I am here.

Sleep, my baby.

I'll hold you tight,

And always love you."

The screams from outside were dulled by the thick door, and Liz abruptly felt deeply out of place. She stepped further into the room and saw a boy of about five sitting in a woman’s lap. There was no doubt that he was the princeling. The woman gasped, pulling him against her chest.

“Please,” she whispered. “Please, don’t hurt him. You can kill me, he won’t ever know who he is. Please, just let my son live, please…”

She could have done it. She could have exiled them, imprisoned them, or just let them be. She could have killed the child and left the mother, or taken the child under her wing and destroyed the mother. But Death was hungry, and though she was loath to admit it, Liz was too. 

Then blood was dripping from pure white petals. The daisies had been a gift from the king. To my love, the note read. I picked them myself. You know I’d give you roses and diamonds. I’d give you palaces and servants. I’d give you the world itself, if you only asked. But these are your favorites, and so I’m learning to love them. They were so full of life. Liz hated them for it. “Your mistress is dead,” she murmured, pulling a single flower from the vase. “So is your master.” She crushed the stem in her hand, letting it fall into the puddle of blood that flowed from the woman’s neck. She watched it for a moment, then spun on her heel, slamming the door shut behind her. 

Slowly, slowly, the vase tipped off the table and shattered.

 

***

 

“Today,” Lord Marsvall intoned, “marks the beginning of a new era.”

Liz was knelt at the head of a column of assassins, head bowed so low that all she could see was the marble floor. Her knees and back ached from holding the position for so long, but she knew better than to show it. Even shifting slightly would result in punishment. Weakness was not tolerated here. 

“You have all performed admirably, and because of it I will be crowned king this afternoon.” He paused, as if waiting for applause, then seemed to remember that his assassins knew better than to make a sound. “Ah. You have all met my son, Iendenn.” Liz tensed, struggling to breath regularly. “He is to be the prince of this new nation. Soon, he will come home to lead you all. It will bring a new era of greatness for us all.”

Again, Lord Marsvall paused, then cleared his throat. “That will be all.”

But before anyone could move, Liz raised her head and met his eyes. “No,” she said. Coldly. Firmly. “It will not.” She could feel the others draw in a breath, almost as one. She could feel their muscles clenching, feel them preparing to reach for hidden weapons. Liz rose to her feet and stepped smoothly towards him. She smiled slyly. “My Lord.” 

“W-what is the meaning of this?” Lord Marsvall stuttered, droplets of sweat appearing on his forehead. “Lieutenants!” But the lord’s most trusted guards didn’t move. Liz nodded to them, and each gave her a nod in return. The assassins were hers.

“Terribly sorry, my Lord,” Liz continued, “but I’m afraid there will be no new king today.” She gazed out at the assembled assassins. “Look up,” she said. No one moved. “Look up!” Her voice cracked out like a whip, and two hundred eyes snapped to her. “Thank you.” Then, Death’s laughter echoing through her mind, she slid her dagger across Lord Marsvall’s throat. I’m sorry, Ien…but you’ll be better off this way. We all will. Or, we all would. If I wasn’t the one doing it.

It was so much easier than she’d expected.  One quick motion and he was dead. For a moment, all was silent. Then Uunz, ever faithful Uunz, bowed his head. “Empress,” he rasped. 

“Empress,” another took up the chant, bowing. 

“Empress.”

“Empress.”

“Empress.”

“Today I rule,” Liz announced, without pretense or preamble. “You’ve all given your loyalty to me. For that, you will be rewarded.” Then she let herself grin, meeting the eyes of several members of the crowd. “For that, you will be fed.”

Her words were met with a deafening roar. It filled her with a strange sort of dread. Or delight. Or…both? What fun this would be. Were they her feelings, or Death’s? She couldn’t quite tell. Poor, poor Ien. I’m going to break this world.

But I trust you to fix it.

 

Ooh, I love it so much!!! It’s so amazing! 
Go write more Eddie, I need more of this!

[Edema Rue]

55 minutes ago, Weaver of Lies said:

Ooh, I love it so much!!! It’s so amazing! 
Go write more Eddie, I need more of this!

Heehee oki, thanks Weaver! Anything in specific you want to see?

[Weaver of Lies]

18 minutes ago, Edema Rue said:

Heehee oki, thanks Weaver! Anything in specific you want to see?

Something further in the future, after Liz is captured, either another prison scene or something after?

[Edema Rue]

16 minutes ago, Weaver of Lies said:

Something further in the future, after Liz is captured, either another prison scene or something after?

Oo, ok! I’ll get to that tonight or tomorrow

[The cheeseman]

2 hours ago, Edema Rue said:

GUYS GUYS GUYS

LIZ

MY SWEET LITTLE DARLING

SHE LIVES!!

(thanks @Anguished_One and @The Wandering Wizard)

Empress:

  Reveal hidden contents

The king wasn’t supposed to have a son.

He’d announced no heir, and he was supposed to be too honorable for concubines.

Liz grinned. The boy would have to die. She stalked through the corridors, a dagger in each hand, her torn cloak fluttering behind her. Occasionally, she neatly sidestepped a puddle of blood. A pity that they’d had tried to fight. These people hadn’t needed to die.

A sense of disapproval radiated through her, and she winced. It was strange, being connected to a being that was so other. Death was always hungry, and tonight he was feasting. He wouldn’t have her condemning his meal. Liz murmured a gentle prayer, not apologizing but yielding. As if she’d been given a chance to repent, a soldier came barreling around the corner towards her. She blinked, and then she was pulling her knife out of his neck and wiping it clean on her shirt. Warmth flowed through her, Death’s satisfaction, and suddenly she was laughing. The thrill. The thrill. Her hands were sticky and red, her hair was matted with blood, and surrounded by death she’d never felt more alive. What beautiful pleasure came from serving her god. This high was better than winning a bet. Just for a moment, groveling at his feet seemed to be paradise. Then she blinked and kept walking, forcing the ecstasy away. The others could kill for sport. Liz had a job to do.

But then she was in his rooms, and her hand trembled.

It smelled of flowers. Daisies. A thick bouquet of them, beautiful for their plainness, sat on a small table.

There was the sound of crying, and a woman’s gentle lullaby.

"Rest, my child

Rest, my dear.

The outside is dark

But look, I am here.

Sleep, my baby.

I'll hold you tight,

And always love you."

The screams from outside were dulled by the thick door, and Liz abruptly felt deeply out of place. She stepped further into the room and saw a boy of about five sitting in a woman’s lap. There was no doubt that he was the princeling. The woman gasped, pulling him against her chest.

“Please,” she whispered. “Please, don’t hurt him. You can kill me, he won’t ever know who he is. Please, just let my son live, please…”

She could have done it. She could have exiled them, imprisoned them, or just let them be. She could have killed the child and left the mother, or taken the child under her wing and destroyed the mother. But Death was hungry, and though she was loath to admit it, Liz was too. 

Then blood was dripping from pure white petals. The daisies had been a gift from the king. To my love, the note read. I picked them myself. You know I’d give you roses and diamonds. I’d give you palaces and servants. I’d give you the world itself, if you only asked. But these are your favorites, and so I’m learning to love them. They were so full of life. Liz hated them for it. “Your mistress is dead,” she murmured, pulling a single flower from the vase. “So is your master.” She crushed the stem in her hand, letting it fall into the puddle of blood that flowed from the woman’s neck. She watched it for a moment, then spun on her heel, slamming the door shut behind her. 

Slowly, slowly, the vase tipped off the table and shattered.

 

***

 

“Today,” Lord Marsvall intoned, “marks the beginning of a new era.”

Liz was knelt at the head of a column of assassins, head bowed so low that all she could see was the marble floor. Her knees and back ached from holding the position for so long, but she knew better than to show it. Even shifting slightly would result in punishment. Weakness was not tolerated here. 

“You have all performed admirably, and because of it I will be crowned king this afternoon.” He paused, as if waiting for applause, then seemed to remember that his assassins knew better than to make a sound. “Ah. You have all met my son, Iendenn.” Liz tensed, struggling to breath regularly. “He is to be the prince of this new nation. Soon, he will come home to lead you all. It will bring a new era of greatness for us all.”

Again, Lord Marsvall paused, then cleared his throat. “That will be all.”

But before anyone could move, Liz raised her head and met his eyes. “No,” she said. Coldly. Firmly. “It will not.” She could feel the others draw in a breath, almost as one. She could feel their muscles clenching, feel them preparing to reach for hidden weapons. Liz rose to her feet and stepped smoothly towards him. She smiled slyly. “My Lord.” 

“W-what is the meaning of this?” Lord Marsvall stuttered, droplets of sweat appearing on his forehead. “Lieutenants!” But the lord’s most trusted guards didn’t move. Liz nodded to them, and each gave her a nod in return. The assassins were hers.

“Terribly sorry, my Lord,” Liz continued, “but I’m afraid there will be no new king today.” She gazed out at the assembled assassins. “Look up,” she said. No one moved. “Look up!” Her voice cracked out like a whip, and two hundred eyes snapped to her. “Thank you.” Then, Death’s laughter echoing through her mind, she slid her dagger across Lord Marsvall’s throat. I’m sorry, Ien…but you’ll be better off this way. We all will. Or, we all would. If I wasn’t the one doing it.

It was so much easier than she’d expected.  One quick motion and he was dead. For a moment, all was silent. Then Uunz, ever faithful Uunz, bowed his head. “Empress,” he rasped. 

“Empress,” another took up the chant, bowing. 

“Empress.”

“Empress.”

“Empress.”

“Today I rule,” Liz announced, without pretense or preamble. “You’ve all given your loyalty to me. For that, you will be rewarded.” Then she let herself grin, meeting the eyes of several members of the crowd. “For that, you will be fed.”

Her words were met with a deafening roar. It filled her with a strange sort of dread. Or delight. Or…both? What fun this would be. Were they her feelings, or Death’s? She couldn’t quite tell. Poor, poor Ien. I’m going to break this world.

But I trust you to fix it.

 

I NEED ALL OF IIIIIIIIIT. THAT WAS AMAZING!!

[Edema Rue]

40 minutes ago, The cheeseman said:

I NEED ALL OF IIIIIIIIIT. THAT WAS AMAZING!!

Awww THANK YOU! I have a lot of different (non chronological) scenes with her scattered throughout this thread…and split between 3 google docs…and an app…oh dear I should be more organized. 

[The cheeseman]

4 minutes ago, Edema Rue said:

Awww THANK YOU! I have a lot of different (non chronological) scenes with her scattered throughout this thread…and split between 3 google docs…and an app…oh dear I should be more organized. 

Pleeeaaaase organize it and make a book. It's so good. I need motivations, I need lore, I need the MAGIIIIC.

*ahem*

I'm not super organized either

[Edema Rue]

5 minutes ago, The cheeseman said:

Pleeeaaaase organize it and make a book. It's so good. I need motivations, I need lore, I need the MAGIIIIC.

*ahem*

I'm not super organized either

Heehee it’ll be a full book eventually, but right now it’s more a…collection of scenes

[Spark of Hope]

11 hours ago, Edema Rue said:

GUYS GUYS GUYS

LIZ

MY SWEET LITTLE DARLING

SHE LIVES!!

(thanks @Anguished_One and @The Wandering Wizard)

Empress:

  Reveal hidden contents

The king wasn’t supposed to have a son.

He’d announced no heir, and he was supposed to be too honorable for concubines.

Liz grinned. The boy would have to die. She stalked through the corridors, a dagger in each hand, her torn cloak fluttering behind her. Occasionally, she neatly sidestepped a puddle of blood. A pity that they’d had tried to fight. These people hadn’t needed to die.

A sense of disapproval radiated through her, and she winced. It was strange, being connected to a being that was so other. Death was always hungry, and tonight he was feasting. He wouldn’t have her condemning his meal. Liz murmured a gentle prayer, not apologizing but yielding. As if she’d been given a chance to repent, a soldier came barreling around the corner towards her. She blinked, and then she was pulling her knife out of his neck and wiping it clean on her shirt. Warmth flowed through her, Death’s satisfaction, and suddenly she was laughing. The thrill. The thrill. Her hands were sticky and red, her hair was matted with blood, and surrounded by death she’d never felt more alive. What beautiful pleasure came from serving her god. This high was better than winning a bet. Just for a moment, groveling at his feet seemed to be paradise. Then she blinked and kept walking, forcing the ecstasy away. The others could kill for sport. Liz had a job to do.

But then she was in his rooms, and her hand trembled.

It smelled of flowers. Daisies. A thick bouquet of them, beautiful for their plainness, sat on a small table.

There was the sound of crying, and a woman’s gentle lullaby.

"Rest, my child

Rest, my dear.

The outside is dark

But look, I am here.

Sleep, my baby.

I'll hold you tight,

And always love you."

The screams from outside were dulled by the thick door, and Liz abruptly felt deeply out of place. She stepped further into the room and saw a boy of about five sitting in a woman’s lap. There was no doubt that he was the princeling. The woman gasped, pulling him against her chest.

“Please,” she whispered. “Please, don’t hurt him. You can kill me, he won’t ever know who he is. Please, just let my son live, please…”

She could have done it. She could have exiled them, imprisoned them, or just let them be. She could have killed the child and left the mother, or taken the child under her wing and destroyed the mother. But Death was hungry, and though she was loath to admit it, Liz was too. 

Then blood was dripping from pure white petals. The daisies had been a gift from the king. To my love, the note read. I picked them myself. You know I’d give you roses and diamonds. I’d give you palaces and servants. I’d give you the world itself, if you only asked. But these are your favorites, and so I’m learning to love them. They were so full of life. Liz hated them for it. “Your mistress is dead,” she murmured, pulling a single flower from the vase. “So is your master.” She crushed the stem in her hand, letting it fall into the puddle of blood that flowed from the woman’s neck. She watched it for a moment, then spun on her heel, slamming the door shut behind her. 

Slowly, slowly, the vase tipped off the table and shattered.

 

***

 

“Today,” Lord Marsvall intoned, “marks the beginning of a new era.”

Liz was knelt at the head of a column of assassins, head bowed so low that all she could see was the marble floor. Her knees and back ached from holding the position for so long, but she knew better than to show it. Even shifting slightly would result in punishment. Weakness was not tolerated here. 

“You have all performed admirably, and because of it I will be crowned king this afternoon.” He paused, as if waiting for applause, then seemed to remember that his assassins knew better than to make a sound. “Ah. You have all met my son, Iendenn.” Liz tensed, struggling to breath regularly. “He is to be the prince of this new nation. Soon, he will come home to lead you all. It will bring a new era of greatness for us all.”

Again, Lord Marsvall paused, then cleared his throat. “That will be all.”

But before anyone could move, Liz raised her head and met his eyes. “No,” she said. Coldly. Firmly. “It will not.” She could feel the others draw in a breath, almost as one. She could feel their muscles clenching, feel them preparing to reach for hidden weapons. Liz rose to her feet and stepped smoothly towards him. She smiled slyly. “My Lord.” 

“W-what is the meaning of this?” Lord Marsvall stuttered, droplets of sweat appearing on his forehead. “Lieutenants!” But the lord’s most trusted guards didn’t move. Liz nodded to them, and each gave her a nod in return. The assassins were hers.

“Terribly sorry, my Lord,” Liz continued, “but I’m afraid there will be no new king today.” She gazed out at the assembled assassins. “Look up,” she said. No one moved. “Look up!” Her voice cracked out like a whip, and two hundred eyes snapped to her. “Thank you.” Then, Death’s laughter echoing through her mind, she slid her dagger across Lord Marsvall’s throat. I’m sorry, Ien…but you’ll be better off this way. We all will. Or, we all would. If I wasn’t the one doing it.

It was so much easier than she’d expected.  One quick motion and he was dead. For a moment, all was silent. Then Uunz, ever faithful Uunz, bowed his head. “Empress,” he rasped. 

“Empress,” another took up the chant, bowing. 

“Empress.”

“Empress.”

“Empress.”

“Today I rule,” Liz announced, without pretense or preamble. “You’ve all given your loyalty to me. For that, you will be rewarded.” Then she let herself grin, meeting the eyes of several members of the crowd. “For that, you will be fed.”

Her words were met with a deafening roar. It filled her with a strange sort of dread. Or delight. Or…both? What fun this would be. Were they her feelings, or Death’s? She couldn’t quite tell. Poor, poor Ien. I’m going to break this world.

But I trust you to fix it.

 

My oh my

I have a history of liking a lot of villains

But

Oh my gosh

I don’t write a lot of them

The series I like villains in aren’t told from there perspective (or if they are it’s like 2% at most of the tome

I’ve written one villain and she doesn’t kill

But this was sick

[Kajsa]

On 4/24/2024 at 11:43 AM, Edema Rue said:

@Kajsa I found itttttt :)))

(now you owe me words so there)

Oh yeah!! That's the one that's published, though now it's both parts and it's called Wanderer.

Holy shhhhii—

*clears throat*

eddie are u good dude??

[Edema Rue]

36 minutes ago, Spark of Hope said:

My oh my

I have a history of liking a lot of villains

But

Oh my gosh

I don’t write a lot of them

The series I like villains in aren’t told from there perspective (or if they are it’s like 2% at most of the tome

I’ve written one villain and she doesn’t kill

But this was sick

Thank you…I should probably start trying to filter my writing, I forget sometimes how violent I get  

Um but yes this is Liz, she made a bet about whether or not she can make a hero out of her basically boyfriend (the wording is still in the progress) and so she’s like “watch me” and kind of goes absolutely insane I love her. 

25 minutes ago, Kajsa said:

Holy shhhhii—

*clears throat*

eddie are u good dude??

Yeah I am!! Sorry I really need to pay attention to levels of violence…

[Kajsa]

1 minute ago, Edema Rue said:

Thank you…I should probably start trying to filter my writing, I forget sometimes how violent I get  

Um but yes this is Liz, she made a bet about whether or not she can make a hero out of her basically boyfriend (the wording is still in the progress) and so she’s like “watch me” and kind of goes absolutely insane I love her. 

Yeah I am!! Sorry I really need to pay attention to levels of violence…

lol you’re fine this just means that i feel better writing the things mira does to her victims so uh yeah