Rocky Road 23, Cantaloupe 11, Chocolate Chip Mint 5
Title: Born at Rock Bottom
Story Continuity: The Lethean Glamour extra
Prompts: Rocky Road 23: a grave, Cantaloupe 11: all wound up, Chocolate Chip Mint 5: vulnerable
Rating: PG
Word count: 100 x6
Summary: Pocky chain, implied Lysandro/Capricia, slight Seven/Capricia. Seven and Capricia Viordi, the assassin and the woman, at war with one another. See if you can spot the slight Good Omens nod.
Capricia was never alone, even when she was locked in the white room.
Deep within her, the devil laughed over different plots to kill the matron, to bring the entire kingdom to its knees moaning like a whore, to make King Kirschwaller pay, in blood or in crown.
Capricia was seldom locked in the white room because she loved it. She could pretend there that she had the world to herself.
She longed to be the last girl on Anharo, but at the end of the day Capricia was never alone.
The devil had never been six; she was Seven.
* * *
Capricia loved Lysandro with the fullness of all her heart.
He didn't understand her at all, likely never would. Capricia was fine with that arrangement. If he ever understood her or Seven, their understanding would end in fire - possibly bloodshed, depending on Seven's mood. Seven had drawn a scenario diagram at the beginning of her infatuation, and was constantly revising it to make it more terrible for harming what was rightly Seven's.
Seven loved Capricia with all the passion of her heart. Or someone's heart, anyway. No sense in wasting hers on something as fluttery and wishy-washy as love.
* * *
Some said she was not born, others that she did not exist. Some said Adanvari had made her a goddess, so they might rule the shadows together. Seven was as much a terrifying, demonic myth as an odd or heavenly sum.
Cherota knew exactly the truth until her dying day; Seven was more real, more solid than her host Capricia, than even the ground beneath Cherota's feet.
As she fell to her death, Cherota wished only that she had never given that poor girl to the government to raise. Seven was, above the much else she'd achieved, a cosmic error.
* * *
Today, Capricia killed the king.
And it really was Capricia, not Seven. The 13th Guard had been planning the assassination for years, and Capricia was the only member who had enough connections for the plot to work.
Today, a new era had dawned.
Apollo Merces, who had served as Guard captain and the assassin known as One, was the new king, the princes his heirs apparent through Capricia's finangling.
Today, a king was born.
Today, Prince Lysandro declared himself the enemy of the crown.
Today, Capricia laid down in her uncomfortable, utilitarian bed and rued the day. All of them.
* * *
Seven plotted assassinating Lysandro for breaking Capricia's heart, but Capricia raged against the idea. Gradually, she learned denial of Seven. She constantly wondered what else could be denied, until one day, she tracked down a mark and boggled.
The man was obese, delusional, had a lazy eye, and was nothing greater than pathetic and nothing less than equivalent to the scum under Capricia's hiking boots.
Capricia gutted him. Seven snickered over the poetry.
Capricia looked around the house and saw her mark was loved.
His grandson was five. His son resembled Valentio.
Capricia was suddenly so weary of blood.
* * *
Capricia stood at Cherota's grave. She didn't find herself there; it was no accident. She'd thought about it for years, looked to see if they'd found and buried her, came to the cemetery, asked the office attendant for the plot number, then spent two damn hours searching.
She came with no words, and no words came to mind.
Chereta Viordi, 4213-4281. "She will be missed." That was all that remained of Cherota. Capricia wondered if she'd get a similarly modest memorial someday.
"I won't forget you. I'm so sorry, mama."
Capricia kissed the headless gravestone angel's feet and left.
Story Continuity: The Lethean Glamour extra
Prompts: Rocky Road 23: a grave, Cantaloupe 11: all wound up, Chocolate Chip Mint 5: vulnerable
Rating: PG
Word count: 100 x6
Summary: Pocky chain, implied Lysandro/Capricia, slight Seven/Capricia. Seven and Capricia Viordi, the assassin and the woman, at war with one another. See if you can spot the slight Good Omens nod.
Capricia was never alone, even when she was locked in the white room.
Deep within her, the devil laughed over different plots to kill the matron, to bring the entire kingdom to its knees moaning like a whore, to make King Kirschwaller pay, in blood or in crown.
Capricia was seldom locked in the white room because she loved it. She could pretend there that she had the world to herself.
She longed to be the last girl on Anharo, but at the end of the day Capricia was never alone.
The devil had never been six; she was Seven.
* * *
Capricia loved Lysandro with the fullness of all her heart.
He didn't understand her at all, likely never would. Capricia was fine with that arrangement. If he ever understood her or Seven, their understanding would end in fire - possibly bloodshed, depending on Seven's mood. Seven had drawn a scenario diagram at the beginning of her infatuation, and was constantly revising it to make it more terrible for harming what was rightly Seven's.
Seven loved Capricia with all the passion of her heart. Or someone's heart, anyway. No sense in wasting hers on something as fluttery and wishy-washy as love.
* * *
Some said she was not born, others that she did not exist. Some said Adanvari had made her a goddess, so they might rule the shadows together. Seven was as much a terrifying, demonic myth as an odd or heavenly sum.
Cherota knew exactly the truth until her dying day; Seven was more real, more solid than her host Capricia, than even the ground beneath Cherota's feet.
As she fell to her death, Cherota wished only that she had never given that poor girl to the government to raise. Seven was, above the much else she'd achieved, a cosmic error.
* * *
Today, Capricia killed the king.
And it really was Capricia, not Seven. The 13th Guard had been planning the assassination for years, and Capricia was the only member who had enough connections for the plot to work.
Today, a new era had dawned.
Apollo Merces, who had served as Guard captain and the assassin known as One, was the new king, the princes his heirs apparent through Capricia's finangling.
Today, a king was born.
Today, Prince Lysandro declared himself the enemy of the crown.
Today, Capricia laid down in her uncomfortable, utilitarian bed and rued the day. All of them.
* * *
Seven plotted assassinating Lysandro for breaking Capricia's heart, but Capricia raged against the idea. Gradually, she learned denial of Seven. She constantly wondered what else could be denied, until one day, she tracked down a mark and boggled.
The man was obese, delusional, had a lazy eye, and was nothing greater than pathetic and nothing less than equivalent to the scum under Capricia's hiking boots.
Capricia gutted him. Seven snickered over the poetry.
Capricia looked around the house and saw her mark was loved.
His grandson was five. His son resembled Valentio.
Capricia was suddenly so weary of blood.
* * *
Capricia stood at Cherota's grave. She didn't find herself there; it was no accident. She'd thought about it for years, looked to see if they'd found and buried her, came to the cemetery, asked the office attendant for the plot number, then spent two damn hours searching.
She came with no words, and no words came to mind.
Chereta Viordi, 4213-4281. "She will be missed." That was all that remained of Cherota. Capricia wondered if she'd get a similarly modest memorial someday.
"I won't forget you. I'm so sorry, mama."
Capricia kissed the headless gravestone angel's feet and left.