Sunday, 20 March 2011


Carmilla sat on the edge of the mesa, her feet dangling over the hundred foot drop. The sun beat down on her and sweat ran in rivulets over the dust, dirt and blood that coated her body. Far above her birds of prey circled, a few whispy clouds and the burning heat of the midday sun.

Using the telescopic sight of the rifle she watched the squad of troopers making their way slowly up plain below, following her path. Rubbing her arm she waited as her datatablet connected to the planet comm-net, sifting through the net and locating her diary. Sipping from a bottle of tepid water she checked her chrono and started tapping away at the keyboard.

Personal Log - The Hour of timeless contemplation, the day of surprises

A month. One whole month, and maybe a few more days... or less... it's hard to count when you have no reference half the time. That's the time I have wasted on this trip to find my heritage. Minmatar... Amarr... Pah! I have a foot in both worlds and I belong to neither. Minmatar by my father, Amarr by my mother. And despised by both.

I took this journey to find where I belonged because of something three people said to me. Mizhara, in her dissapointment over my lifestyle and carefree ways... Sakura because she wanted to save me from myself... and Ithiria.


Even after all this time I still cannot think of what you did with malice. I must take a portion of the blame, even if you didn't realise that I went with Hinare to get you to notice me. Oh I noticed that I was loosing you, that you always seemed to be elsewhere when I needed or wanted you. And yes a part of me says 'Hey, your her slave, it's not your place', but another part of me said fuck that! Where is my wife. And then.... you were no longer my wife. I was no longer your slave. And truly my life ended there.

Sakura, aaah my little policewoman. So knowledgable and yet so niave at times. But you fanned the flames of intrigue and made me look to what I was doing.. where I belonged. Made me doubt myself and forced me to see, without even lifting a finger. I wonder if you know how subtle you can be, or if it's a deeper part of you?

And Mizhara. Oh how I remember what you did to me in the Masquerade, and I wonder now if what I am going through is not just another masquerade. I think it is. Time to remove the mask and become who I am. I will not say that I was displeased by what I almost became, indeed the thought of being like Kael was appealing....

Far too appealing. I like my freedom and it seems I like the thought of not being free. When I was Ithiria slave I was free, more free than the birds in the sky. For although she was once a power, and a figure of authority and nobility, that faded over time and events until now, well.... that is for others to say. I tried to bring her back to what she was, but there was too much damage done. Too much to be undone and far too many people who believe that what they want should be an extension of who she is. One day, maybe, she'll change.

But it won't be with me. She has a wife.

It is not me.....

I should have fought for her when I had the chance. Now it may be too late.

The time I spent with the minmatar shamans learning about my people and my place in their society has shown me much. Some of them despise me for what I have done, giving myself to a slaver and debasing myself for her pleasure. Whore, they call me. Traitor. And worse. But all was not one sided. For there were those there who remember me from my earlier days, when I freed the slaves and fought the Amarr. Others still who I have saved from the clutches of the Serpentis. Patriot they said, Hero. Warrior, said others. Souls I do not remember who pulled out their ceremonial blades and stood behind me and said they would fight for me. While others stood infront and said they would fight against me. Blood was spilt, much blood.

And I found out my father is still alive. Oh Kim, why did you not tell me this. Although I cannot help but admire his sense of timing. As I was lying on the floor of the arena surrounded by the bodies of those who supported me, and opposed me, while members of a family of Brutor who had a blood feud with me were about to eviscerate me... you leapt from the galleries with your followers and stood beside me, as I bled.

Blood.... is there any doubt why I would once have thrown my banner in with the Blood Raiders. There is a purity in blood that cannot be understood until you see your own blood pooling at your feet and your head is light from the lack of your own blood, your limbs are heavy and your heart pounding as heavy as a pile driver. Ian, you shucked off your coat and reaveled your form, the heavily scarred and tattooed form of a Sebiestor Shaman.... and your pod implant ports.

Why did it never occur to me that my father, who I thought I had killed in my escape from Gallicia and the Serpentis... was a capsuleer? Why did Kim never tell me? Not that it matters now, for in part I have been recognised as a Minmatar. I have my tattoos, my voluval which is the same as my fathers, and the rest of his clan. And did I laugh when it appeared? Yes, til the tears ran down my face and people looked on with worry. Close, did it look to the Pale Eye, but not for me the imposed exile.... a snake, eating it's own tail. Oroubus.

Snakes. Why does it always have to be snakes?

And so, after I departed from the arena, where my name is placed in the might tomes that list the heritage of the minmatar tribes, the usual happened. People tried to kidnap me. Do I have this sign on my head saying kidnap me? Does God have a plan for me that involves me being the helpless woman all my life? Should I fall to the ground and cry out, help! help! and seek a strong man to protect me? No, it seems far too much like the other.

Some people say that man is meant to be free. What a load of shite. Man is born a slave. What you do in your life determines how free you are. I was free with Ithiria's Collar around my neck, but I somehow wasn't free with Mizhara's boot on my neck.

Things have to change, and once I have stopped these people from trying to capture me, which I am revelling in.... I will go to Ithiria. I will tell her how I feel.

That I want her back.....

As my wife.

Message Ends

Carmilla pressed the send button and waited until the confirmation came through and closed the unit. With a sigh she picked up the rifle and looked at the body of men and women coming along the trail. She started to softly sing a song as she rolled over and laid down and trained the sniper rifle on the woman right at the end of the column, then moved up, her scope caressing each person, their loadouts and their faces. All of them were brutors. As she sighted the last woman again she started to sing louder and gently squeezed the trigger. When the rifle ran out of ammuntion she slung it over her shoulder and pulled out two pistols, hammered the end of a coil of wire from her belt into the rock and leapt over the edge screaming.

Ten minutes later she sat on a large rock watching one of the men die, bleeding from several abdominal gunshots. Blood covered her left side from a deep blade slash and was running freely. She looked at the brutors knife, a keen edged curving blade decorated with his tribal house insignia. It had come closed to killing her. It might still, she mused as she looked into his hate filled eyes.
"Tell you what, brutor. Whoever dies first, looses."
"We... will kill... you .... in the end.... traitor...."
Carm pulled out a lukeworm can of quaffe noir and popped the top.
"I dare say. If you lose."
The two of them watched each other in silence as they both bled.

The Brutor lost.

No comments:

Post a Comment