My Victory
Theme: Your character's death.

My father towered, immobile and daunting. He didn't flinch nor falter, never showing a glimpse of weakness - of humanity.
They call him 'Rook,' with good reason. As I am 'Liquid.' I am beautiful, adaptable, destructive and curative. I promote growth and can cause death, I bend around obstacles and set a new course for the horizon, I can clean a child or rend a mountain in half. I am free, free to dance, twist, run and play.

Free.

Lilac told me something of freedom, once. She spoke such powerful, deep words. She spoke with such conviction, her voice full of meaning and strength as her body failed. I was so distraught with her death I couldn't register what she was saying, but with age and experience it makes sense now.
'Life comes at the cost of freedom,' she said. 'To survive, we need to adhere to certain rules, we need to follow rituals and codes we may not understand or like.'
Freedom comes at the cost of life,' came next. 'No liberty is ever given without sacrifice, no man can be truly free while he exists in the system. Someone needs to rise to the top so he can fall to his death... only then can his brothers be released.'

She saw this battle long before it came. Some say that's why my father stole her from me. Her ability as a seer was unparalleled in our recalled history, only tales of The Prophet matched her feats. She foresaw storms with unerring accuracy, she declared deaths and prevented them. My beautiful, flawless Lilac...
I'll never forgive him. The world grieved her death, I swear. On her funeral the skies wept. The sparse crops of roots and potatoes we could grow on the mountain turned up empty that season. Three wars started in the following months, though unremarkable ones.
Less flowers bloomed.
Less birds sang.
The air itself tasted sour and bitter. We all knew Our Mother was angry at him and it drove him mad. He knew that no measure of violence or anger would move the Brujah to serve him until the full ten suns had passed - hers was the first mourning uninterrupted in decades.

I don't remember much of the months after her murder. They tell me I broke, I receded into myself and refused to talk, eat or move unless it was necessary. Father let me be, he assumed I was invalid from that day. What makes it worse is that her death was technically my fault - or rather, it will be.
He treasured her as a tool, an instrument of his grand scheme. She aided in many successful raids and prevented many clan disasters, though one day she told a prophecy he didn't want to hear. She spun a tale of his son rising to slay him, she told that I would free the Brujah from his clawed grip. Of course, he couldn't have her encouraging that. The clansmen were visibly growing defiant, they looked to me with a new resolve and stood against him more often. Taking her out was supposed to break the chain, demoralise the insurrection, reduce me to a mindless slave.

I've got bad news, father.

As I stand here, the blood we share staining the mud beneath us, rain weighing down my coat and making my twisted hand slippery, I know something. I understand something you never could, I hold knowledge far beyond your reach.

I know that I will die here. I know that it doesn't matter which of us deals the final blow and that I may not even be the one to kill you... but my death will free our people. I have stood against you. I have defied you openly, I have taken step after painful step, I have gotten up each time you knocked me down.
No matter how much blood I shed, I have already won. As I stare blindly at the sky, feeding the crows, my brothers and sisters will avenge me. Your prisoners will revolt and you will fall.

You can see it in my eyes, can't you? My face is haunting and ghastly, my body is in shreds but my eyes will never cease to burn. You're afraid. You're looking for a way out, deluding yourself into believing you'll be able to quell the rioting clan...

You've lost.

I'll see you in the sky, Father. I'll be waiting for you with Lilac, with Venre, with Evander and your dead wife. I'll be waiting with all your victims, with your slaves, with your foes and with every man before me who stood against you.
I'll be waiting, Father, with Our Great Mother.

© Myke of Mercury Ice. If you are a guest viewing this, please take the time to register.