Netzhal's PK Post

[Spindle 651]

Dost thou love picking meat? Or would’st thou see
A man in the clouds, and have him speak to thee?
Bunyan

Mists & Rushes
In the twilight came a woman in her middle years. Before her was a broad bridge, and near the water's edge a hedgerow of rushes mingled with a mist by the bank. She was with herself—her thoughts and the occasional murmurs of the wind her sole companions—and everything lay before her very still. The far-away noises and lights seemed near and clear and there was upon her a great silence. She was spurred on by the occasional wind-words at a heartpace when a new sound came.     
          Gravel crushed underfoot as a secondary woman (one of less years but built lean and muscular) drew behind in tandem. The mild air of the sloping Petran landscape was sucked through her teeth like the bellows of a forge; a breath that was bated and held in it an evil.  
          The first woman crested the bridge without regard; her ear remained to her thoughts and the silence seemed heavy and vast like morning mist. 
           ‘Kazimira,’ came a hard voice. Her free hand rose. She sought to stop the woman's carefree meander.

            She turned to regard the sounds. ‘P-pardon?’ the woman said and blinked the night from her eyes.    
Soon many thoughts stole quietly into the woman-called-Kazimira’s mind. They mingled with the midnight tricks of moonlight and mist and drew her in a world known only to her. For all it seemed, the world held fast its breath; it came to her as if through a fathom of murkwater, and she realised then her fate. 
            She was dead. 

 

 

Kain:
      ‘Kazimira, I presume?’

 

Blædswiþ:
                     ‘This— This is her.’

 

Kain:
      ‘It was.’

 

Blædswiþ:
    ‘Was.’

 

From the door came a rapping.

 

Alabaster: 
‘It's me.’ 

 

Kain:
      ‘A-ah-h.’

 

Alabaster: 
‘What the f*ck are you doing. She is Hesperia's girl.’

 

Kain:
     ‘It was. And I'd never seen this old thing until good-Blædswiþ brought her as she is now. ’
 

 

Notes
I’m not exactly sure how or where to start with this. Netzhal/Kazimira was fun, but it felt high time to get her out of my hair—combing out an annoying (but dearly loved) knot. Apologies if some stories remain unfinished, for I know there were a few. Chiefly it seemed I’d done too much on Netzy as it was. Too many rounds, in too many communities. Time for something new! If there are any cute character ideas bubbling away in your minds, get to me here: Spindle#7394. I’m open for anything. 

<3    
 

[The King Of The Moon 5117]

"Rise now, my child..." Kain withdrew from the murderer he'd created, gesturing to the corpse that was once Netzhal.

 

"Seize the key. Let the human that was die with her; replaced by something more.

 

Nemuritor.

 

Goddess."

[TheBigBubbles 650]

It had been months since Hesperia had seen Netzhal. It was just the other evening that Hesperia had lamented the wrinkles on her middle-aged daughter's face. The knowledge that Netzhal remained mortal despite all of those promises, despite everything, that she was withering  away before Hesperia's eyes.  The woman she'd promised forever to.

 

Where was her favorite daughter? The elderly vampire sat by her window, the pallid woman neatly sewing her daughters yet another dress. The days were long now, and the nights longer. How could the halls be so lively and yet no matter the occasion, the weight of loneliness weigh so heavy on Hesperia.

 

Sewing, piano, alchemy... Nothing felt right. Hesperia had had so many hobbies throughout her ninety  years but things just didn't feel important anymore, nothing quite had the same weight to it. Where was her wife? Her daughters? Everyday was merely filled with duty and schemes. The days were spent placating allies and mitigating damages, it was tedious, it was a chore. Nevertheless it was a tedium Hesperia was ever willing  to endure for loyalty to her family that brought her everything.

If only she had known Netzhal had been slain by the very people she'd been trying to broker peace with. Alas, she could only conclude Netzhal to be missing. Except... Did Netzhal not say she had something to bring up with her? Something troubling on her mind? Hesperia took pause in her sewing, peering to the empty bed chambers just a room away, slowly she'd pace into the room, peering into it for her love... her daughter, her pride. Empty.

That couldn't be right, where was she?

 

Spoiler

 

 

[christman 2216]

Eyes snapped open, 
Faux breath was called upon.

 

She was dead and alive; a walking Deity amongst cattle. 

 

Netzhal was reduced to a quivering pile of bloodless gore.