edenfalling:
Summary: Shortly after the Dolorosa flees the brooding caverns with the Signless, she meets the Demoness for the second time… at least from her perspective.
Note: Back in 2013 I had a story idea for the Ladystuck Dark challenge, which I called “The Time-Traveler’s Kismesis.” It was born from a couple stories I’d seen that had the Demoness tracking the Condesce through her life, and hating her passionately. And I thought, yeah, that works… but the thing the Demoness would hate most isn’t casual entitlement. It’s hope. And the person who has that, the one who tries to change the world for the better, and most particularly the one who also has personal experience with slavery, is the Dolorosa. The Demoness knows nothing is ever going to change. Nothing will ever matter. And the Dolorosa, despite being caste-bound into a form of servitude, and having her son killed in front of her and his movement destroyed, and being mind-controlled and raped, keeps on going.
I never did write that story. But this is one of the scenes that would go into it. Inspired by the 8/24/14 15_minute_ficlets word #200. (850 words)
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The Time-Traveler’s Kismesis: Counterthesis
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The Demoness is waiting at the crossroads. You don’t slow down. You can’t afford to waste time and it would be foolish to show fear. But you wrap the grub more firmly in your spare skirt as you approach.
You turn off the wide main road and take the narrow path into the wilderness. The Demoness falls into step beside you, as casually as one old hatefriend meeting another.
If you didn’t know her, you would never guess her name and function, not with her wands and her magic hidden away. Her horns are impressive, her posture unsubmissive, and the color of her dress borderline illegal, but those descriptions apply to many lowbloods. The Condesce’s attention has turned away from Alternia this past century, since the improvement in helmsblock technology that let your people expand to the stars. The planet is restive without her strong hand.
The Demoness is a harbinger of chaos. Small wonder she walks the world these nights.
You do wonder, though, at her interest in you. She is immortal, second in power only to Death himself. Surely there are other, greater challenges within her reach. Yet here she is, walking close enough to touch, refusing to explain her presence though simple courtesy dictates that she — as the interloper — should justify herself to you.
You grind your teeth and vow not to break the silence first.
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auuuuugh porrim ;_______;<3