Decadence

[Oicha]

She watches. I am her perfect child. She watches with anticipation over every decision I make. She does not guide, she simply. Watches.

The swirling vortex of the unworthy reaches out for me. Calling, pleading for my love.

Yes, they are unworthy.

Less than human.

But I will love them all, in this abyss of decadence.

You pigs in the guise of humans, you who would claim experiences that I have yet to experience myself. I will love you all.
I am her perfect child after all. The offspring of love itself. I will not be denied. All will know my love.





Those who do not know the love of the goddess. Rejoice, I am your saviour. I am perfection given form. Fit to take on the love of all the world. You will soon know that you are nothing to me, and beg for my love. You will join the mass of outstretched hands which fills this abyss.
If you but peek into the abyss, you will reach the pleasure of your own flaws and depravity, as you are drowned by a whirpool of sweet nectar.
Is this your punishment? Or your reward? Questions and answers that swirl forth from naivety. 
Join my fleeting dream of decadence.

Come, all thee sinners, and know that you are loved. You are human. In this unprincipled realm I will create, you will know what it truly means to be human. Cast off the shackles of the false gods and join me in the debauchery. She who Thirsts will welcome you with outstretched arms, as will I.

No matter who you are.

How unworthy you are.

How sub-human you are.

I will love you.

It is who I am.

I am perfect.

[Oicha]

"A party for my name day? How quaint."

Festivities. An excuse for those who chain their lives in the shackles of a 'virtuous' life to let loose. Experience what it truly means to be human once in awhile.

For the faithful of Vaalmoora, no, the faithful of the Triumvirate. It was simply an everyday experience. Life is short, it should be celebrated whenever possible.
What was the point of it all? To put a name to your celebrations, to limit them to only specific times. It was all so, tedious. Why put a timer on enjoying yourself? Why contain yourself and limit what you want to only certain periods? Did these poor dregs who would call themselves humans really fear their emotions so much?

The sounds of a pleasurable evening ring out, meeting the ears of the young Gothar.

"It doesn't matter. All shall enjoy themselves in my presence. I alone am cause enough for celebration."

"My lady?"

"Nothing, an idle thought. Fetch me more mead would you?"

Around her, busy hands work to please her every desire. Even if it was not a celebration for her, it would still be the case. She was the perfect child after all. How could any refuse her requests?

Gifts are brought, food is bestowed and the smell of alcohol hangs heavy in the air.
Laughter, pleasure, pain and excess. All found in equal measure, as it should be.

But something was missing. Another thought enters her mind. A question she had posed, an unfulfilling answer.

"There must be something out there that one could look at and say it is perfect. Lacking all flaws."

"I don't think anything is perfect Sutoka. Even if you reach what you think is perfect, you'll just want something even more. Perfection is ever beyond reach. And that's o-"

Those words, why did they trouble her so?
She wasn't even someone who followed the Dark Lady. She hardly seemed as if she cared for their traditions and culture at all. And yet...
Still.
Those words had a troubling truth to them.

"Will I ever reach perfection, then?"

"Oh my lady, you are growing more and more perfect every day. You will surely be there in time!"

Comforting words, yet. They were the wrong words.

"Growing? In time? Are you saying, that I am not perfect as I am?"

Claws grip at the throat of the woman. Twice her own age.
Terror seizes her eyes, she can do naught but squeeze out yelps. Praying for forgiveness.

The skin of the throat changes, the dermal layer squeezing her wind pipe. Yet the claws do not pierce her skin.
Life ebbs from her, the color leaving her skin, just as the air had left her lungs.

Finally... She is spared, as the hand of the priestess drops her.

"Never forget, that you are allowed to live for one reason only. To love and be loved by me."

The woman chokes back tears as she rubs her throat. Coughs echoing throughout the now still room.
Soft yellow eyes examine each of those foolish enough to stop the merry making. Perfect, shining lips parting to give one last warning.

"All of humanity, all living beings on this earth, will love, and be loved. By me. So go on, drink, be merry. Feast my little piglets. I will drown you in pleasures yet unknown. All you need do, is enjoy yourselves."