.entry 11 - mercy vs justice
The smell of decay, a rancid aroma that lingers within the nose, that burns the surface of your tongue. It is a coppery stench that stings her lungs when she breathes it in and the plumes of black smoke that chokes any fresh air that may have remained. Scarlet and gold swags are bright with flames, immediately consuming the coat of arms embroidered into it. Among the fires she stood, the blistering heat does not deter her from her path, with a blade withdrawn; steel glittered in blood, some coagulated already at her feet.
Vengeance had a physical body, it was wrapped in plate, with hair that captured sunlight, and eyes that burned like the very flames that tore through the chambers. It came slowly, it came with patience.. and men always succumbed to it in the end, for it was a woman. Her wrath took life in the fire, and spreads wildly, hungrily. These men that burned, their fate was written already the moment they turned on her family - the moment they joined forces with a fanatical uncle that desired to cleanse his bloodline of her ‘ilk’.
His men were broken, poisoned and drowned in their soup, or their blood. The sight was a masterpiece that was turning to ash underneath every step she takes towards a equally broken man with his back to a wall, cornered like a snake about to be skinned and turned inside out. Crazed eyes stared at her as blood ran down his wrinkled features staining his gaze with scarlet.
She smiles, lips bruised, hair unruly, a wild goddess here for the rapture. He saw the fires around her, how she walked unburnt, unmoved. Her shadows spread like link, his body shrivels and shrinks whilst his knees weaken. He falls, hits the stone floor, and feels himself suffocating his luxurious coat that grows too heavy for his shoulders, the doublet that is squeezing at his ribcage, his pants are cutting off his circulation.
“It was merciful of thee to leave me at the age of fifteen unscathe after thy men announced the death of mine brother, it was this mercy that shalt be thine undoing.” An angelic voice dripped with venom, heaven and hell were wrought in her form. There was no anger in her eyes, but peace and joy even as the world was going to shit.
“So what, you are to deliver me to Halone’s halls?” He spat at her feet and began to grind at his teeth forcefully, enough that he could hear the rattling inside his skull.
Her laugh was cruel, anything but beautiful, yet her expression contradicts the hateful sound that haunts him, resonating into the polluted air they share. Rolling her shoulders back, the blade rises slowly, and he sees his terrified reflection, and then a flash of red as it is driven into his abdomen, then twisted ..slowly.
“Halone’s halls?” Rivienne watches the wretch wail as her wrist turns and she drives it deeper, yet it wasn’t enough - it wasn’t enough to satisfy her. She wanted him to suffer. Her justice wasn’t meant to be swift, but painful, agonizing, and enjoyed with patience. “Welcome to hell.”
His mercy created her.
And destroyed him.