Schala, Daughter of Cain, Thane of Dormaguez » 17 - Bile & Spite

I fell through the cracks
I dreamed of anathema
The winter will become spring
My will, fiery, spiteful
Unyielding and unbroken

I dreamed of a quiet end. When I knew it was over I sought it. A forested meadow of flowers all covered in mist, like Avalon in my innocence. That place could not be found. It was taken from me. Something deep within me has snapped, shattered to all to pieces. But it hasn't left me broken, no, no. I have found myself remade; reforged and unbroken. It was what has held me back which has broken. I loathed myself for my weakness. I could not protect my unborn son, nor my sweet innocent brother, both of whom I loved more than life. But what has come to pass, what words and treacheries which left my mouth are air, all dust in the unquiet wind. I'm laughing now. I'm furious, but laughing. What other response can one give?

Once, I would've sacrificed all Shadow to be with Iain. If the Eagle then had offered me what Garrick, a defeated man, more broken than I, had, I would have taken it, gladly, hungrily, greedily. I would have gladly seen Shadow fall to ruin and dust just to look upon my beloved's face. He would not have loved such a woman, not even as a sister or milk mother, let alone as a lover or wife, but, blinded by my pain, I would have taken it. But that offer was never made. Whether I was considered too dangerous, too impulsive and unreliable, or too powerless to matter is not important now.

Just moments before the finality I had finally given up hope. But you had to call us forth, to gloat, to bask in your coming victory. To play the role of teacher, and dare to play a benefactor. If you had left well enough alone, I would have embraced the end of my long, long suffering.

I am not the woman that I was, and yet, my response is the same. Spiteful, angry, revolting, defiance. You call it sound and fury, and that it certainly is. Anger can be power if you know how to wield it. Pain can be power too, and I have both in spades. But I will call on every speck of me, every mote and every memory, not just the pain and the anger which I used to rely on but all of it, everything I am... from the flowering fields of Avalon, to the butterfly sorceress of quick smiles and soft innocence, to the passionate longings which I lost myself to in the dusky sweet spring air on the desert oasis where I accepted that I loved him as more than just a brother. I will call on all of it. And now, the weak, the faithless, and the used have fled, and all that remain will do the same as I. There is no question. We have stood in our own way more so than you ever did, but now you've fucked up. You've left only those with the resolve to not only survive, but thrive. I may not reunite with Iain, but, I will treasure my memories of him, and I will be a woman worthy of his love. You will not have them to cast into oblivion. I will love again. And live. To spite you, yes, but for all my treasured memories as well.