The Guardian: Part One
A Guardian is most simply described as a manifestation of one's darkest emotions--rage, malice, hatred, viciousness, violence--existing to preserve the core of one's psyche and will from outside damage. Guardians are at their strongest when brought out with specific purpose, not simply by circumstance and necessity. When this happens, the Guardian will know its job is to protect the mind from whence it was created, and in the strongest minds, balance between the Guardian and the Host is easily achieved and maintained, even in times of high stress.
That said, a Guardian will always want to be in control of the Host--
- Marius De'Fairwryn, Viramata Nas Vox: A Planar Guide
**
Senkha hasn't been present in her body for several days, at least not for more than twenty minutes at the most. She's safe, somewhere in the back of her mind, where she keeps her precious things, like her treasured memories and her bond with Oliver. Safe from all but the physical pain of the horrors visiting her body. Safe until this is all over, one way or another. Her Guardian is doing its job.
The Guardian's name is Itzhal. She doesn't know how Guardians get their names or why, but she knows what her name is. She knows that injuries to Senkha make her stronger and that injuries to her cause that strength to triplicate on itself. If someone knew how to specifically injure her--it would have to be mental trauma, of course--she would be unstoppable, she believes. Senkha's mind would be impenetrable, at least until the wounds healed themselves and she bore only the scars to remind her what had happened.
For these several days, Itzhal has waited for someone to try injuring her specifically, but none have. The last Senkha saw of the waking world was that stupid child Ariadine, the failure of an artificially-grown mentalist shoved into the body of Senkha's daughter, Dizzy. Senkha differentiates between the two now; Itzhal does not. That retarded child has caused as many problems in her Host's mind as someone who actually intended to cause problems may have caused, but because she didn't mean to, Senkha is much more forgiving, and Itzhal hates it.
But no matter. Now she is in control, and she admits to herself that it is a nice change.
**
They taunt her and try to torment her, trying to break down someone who isn't there. Senkha can't be touched now. She's assured that herself, and Itzhal is willing to bear the brunt of their attacks. She wants to bear the brunt of their attacks. She wants them to make her stronger. She cannot attack them properly in this place, no; she feels the weight of their god bearing down on her at every moment, and though the creature has been forced into a memory, its influence is strong in this place.
But Itzhal bears the torture with a laugh. The physical body is growing weaker; blood loss and hunger are taking their toll, and she can sense the beginnings of a nasty infection along her wounded leg and near the other injuries given Senkha by people she no longer distinguishes between. Itzhal laughs with each injury; despite Senkha's physical weakness, her Guardian has never been stronger, though she yearns for still more power.
What's more, she yearns for Hers. Ximos exists in the back of Senkha's mind, in some form. An Imprint, Itzhal recognizes, but one she loves dearly. Ximos was the one who helped draw her out and gave her purpose, fighting alongside her the first time she really defended Senkha's mind as she was supposed to. When this is over, if Senkha survives, Marius will likely remove the Imprint of Ximos himself, and Itzhal is pleased by this thought.
It's the others she misses. Her Shadow-brother, the one who taught her to fight and fly, whom she drew out and gave purpose. And, more than that, Virh...
**
One night, the one they call Apophan speaks to her directly. He doesn't mock her or treat her badly; in fact, his tone is almost artificially respectful. Itzhal is no fool. She knows what he wants of her. She knows he wants to use her as a weapon, to corrupt her purpose.
Don't you want to stay out?
Yes. She wants to stay out desperately. Every Guardian wants exactly that. To have control, to be the one who takes over the body that houses the Host, to be a full person. But even having control, Itzhal knows she will only ever be part of a person. The fullness belongs to Senkha, of whom she is part.
She wants to stay out. She wants it more than anything. But not for him. Not to be used as a puppet by these cultists, not to be pointed and told to kill that or to destroy that. If she ever were to take over entirely, it would not be with these chains around her neck. She does not like chains. Not in the least.
So Itzhal laughs and says no. No. No. Eventually, the fever from the growing infection in her wounds drops her into unconsciousness, and with only a mindslave guard standing before her, she is in no danger tonight.
**
He always comes at night. He comes for Senkha. Itzhal is fond of him because he knows that he belongs to her, that she is his master. He wants to belong to her; she broke him in one brief night, when she took over, when she was free. For almost a decade, he served in the Scourge, and belonging is instinct to him, just as it is to Senkha.
When he comes tonight, though, something is not right and Itzhal feels the sort of excited spark she has not felt in a long time. The Hosts speak in gentle, hushed tones, comforting each other, but under Oliver's voice, Itzhal senses the tension. She speaks to it, and the words come back, etched on her consciousness like metal on stone. YOU CHOSE to CHASE it. HOW would they have known -- - YOU PLAYED and you PLAYED LOUDLY. YOU WERE NOBODY. WOULD HAVE BEEN NOTHING worthless guardian-- PLAN AHEAD TAKE OFFENSIVE don't let her have it...
Take the body. Make it hers. Itzhal repeats the temptations; coming from Virh, they are even more tempting. Even more enticing. Take control! This is your body! Take it! she taunts him, the heart she lacks pounding in anticipation.
You're mistaken. It's MINE.
If it's your body, then come and claim it. Claim me.
How little you value yourself.
She waits. Will it work? Will he come for her? And suddenly, her head screams in pain, and it is her head, not Senkha's. His claw-like nails dig into her skin, not Senkha's. He forces himself on her, not Senkha, drawing blood, tearing her apart as well as he can. She screams with the agony of it but laughs as well, feeling strength coursing through her, renewed. Itzhal is unbound. Unleashed. Unstoppable.
As Senkha drifts off to a dreamless sleep, as Oliver and Virh draw back to focus on the task of rescuing them, Itzhal reaches out one last time, little more than a hiss of breath on the Guardian's neck.
Massssterrrrr...
That said, a Guardian will always want to be in control of the Host--
- Marius De'Fairwryn, Viramata Nas Vox: A Planar Guide
**
Senkha hasn't been present in her body for several days, at least not for more than twenty minutes at the most. She's safe, somewhere in the back of her mind, where she keeps her precious things, like her treasured memories and her bond with Oliver. Safe from all but the physical pain of the horrors visiting her body. Safe until this is all over, one way or another. Her Guardian is doing its job.
The Guardian's name is Itzhal. She doesn't know how Guardians get their names or why, but she knows what her name is. She knows that injuries to Senkha make her stronger and that injuries to her cause that strength to triplicate on itself. If someone knew how to specifically injure her--it would have to be mental trauma, of course--she would be unstoppable, she believes. Senkha's mind would be impenetrable, at least until the wounds healed themselves and she bore only the scars to remind her what had happened.
For these several days, Itzhal has waited for someone to try injuring her specifically, but none have. The last Senkha saw of the waking world was that stupid child Ariadine, the failure of an artificially-grown mentalist shoved into the body of Senkha's daughter, Dizzy. Senkha differentiates between the two now; Itzhal does not. That retarded child has caused as many problems in her Host's mind as someone who actually intended to cause problems may have caused, but because she didn't mean to, Senkha is much more forgiving, and Itzhal hates it.
But no matter. Now she is in control, and she admits to herself that it is a nice change.
**
They taunt her and try to torment her, trying to break down someone who isn't there. Senkha can't be touched now. She's assured that herself, and Itzhal is willing to bear the brunt of their attacks. She wants to bear the brunt of their attacks. She wants them to make her stronger. She cannot attack them properly in this place, no; she feels the weight of their god bearing down on her at every moment, and though the creature has been forced into a memory, its influence is strong in this place.
But Itzhal bears the torture with a laugh. The physical body is growing weaker; blood loss and hunger are taking their toll, and she can sense the beginnings of a nasty infection along her wounded leg and near the other injuries given Senkha by people she no longer distinguishes between. Itzhal laughs with each injury; despite Senkha's physical weakness, her Guardian has never been stronger, though she yearns for still more power.
What's more, she yearns for Hers. Ximos exists in the back of Senkha's mind, in some form. An Imprint, Itzhal recognizes, but one she loves dearly. Ximos was the one who helped draw her out and gave her purpose, fighting alongside her the first time she really defended Senkha's mind as she was supposed to. When this is over, if Senkha survives, Marius will likely remove the Imprint of Ximos himself, and Itzhal is pleased by this thought.
It's the others she misses. Her Shadow-brother, the one who taught her to fight and fly, whom she drew out and gave purpose. And, more than that, Virh...
**
One night, the one they call Apophan speaks to her directly. He doesn't mock her or treat her badly; in fact, his tone is almost artificially respectful. Itzhal is no fool. She knows what he wants of her. She knows he wants to use her as a weapon, to corrupt her purpose.
Don't you want to stay out?
Yes. She wants to stay out desperately. Every Guardian wants exactly that. To have control, to be the one who takes over the body that houses the Host, to be a full person. But even having control, Itzhal knows she will only ever be part of a person. The fullness belongs to Senkha, of whom she is part.
She wants to stay out. She wants it more than anything. But not for him. Not to be used as a puppet by these cultists, not to be pointed and told to kill that or to destroy that. If she ever were to take over entirely, it would not be with these chains around her neck. She does not like chains. Not in the least.
So Itzhal laughs and says no. No. No. Eventually, the fever from the growing infection in her wounds drops her into unconsciousness, and with only a mindslave guard standing before her, she is in no danger tonight.
**
He always comes at night. He comes for Senkha. Itzhal is fond of him because he knows that he belongs to her, that she is his master. He wants to belong to her; she broke him in one brief night, when she took over, when she was free. For almost a decade, he served in the Scourge, and belonging is instinct to him, just as it is to Senkha.
When he comes tonight, though, something is not right and Itzhal feels the sort of excited spark she has not felt in a long time. The Hosts speak in gentle, hushed tones, comforting each other, but under Oliver's voice, Itzhal senses the tension. She speaks to it, and the words come back, etched on her consciousness like metal on stone. YOU CHOSE to CHASE it. HOW would they have known -- - YOU PLAYED and you PLAYED LOUDLY. YOU WERE NOBODY. WOULD HAVE BEEN NOTHING worthless guardian-- PLAN AHEAD TAKE OFFENSIVE don't let her have it...
Take the body. Make it hers. Itzhal repeats the temptations; coming from Virh, they are even more tempting. Even more enticing. Take control! This is your body! Take it! she taunts him, the heart she lacks pounding in anticipation.
You're mistaken. It's MINE.
If it's your body, then come and claim it. Claim me.
How little you value yourself.
She waits. Will it work? Will he come for her? And suddenly, her head screams in pain, and it is her head, not Senkha's. His claw-like nails dig into her skin, not Senkha's. He forces himself on her, not Senkha, drawing blood, tearing her apart as well as he can. She screams with the agony of it but laughs as well, feeling strength coursing through her, renewed. Itzhal is unbound. Unleashed. Unstoppable.
As Senkha drifts off to a dreamless sleep, as Oliver and Virh draw back to focus on the task of rescuing them, Itzhal reaches out one last time, little more than a hiss of breath on the Guardian's neck.
Massssterrrrr...