Ramblings of a Villain

Rage

You, servant of Misery. Approach. 

Pitiful. Has she ever done anything for you? All the quiet tears by the windowsill, all those extra hours in your bed looking up to the brickwork and the patterns in your ceiling? 

No. 

Every moment of grievance has been for nothing. 

Be quiet, zealot. Do not protest. I come to bring you a new dogma. 

Yes, it is true. I am here to release you from Her clutches. You are to leave Her domain, abandon Her worship, forget Her practices. They are of no further use to you. 

Where She weakens you, I will empower you.

Where She drains you, I will give you succor. 

All the time She has taken from you, I will give you tenfold, and more. 

Yes, with a price. We will speak of it, in time. 

My name?

Rage. 

I am lord of ember and cinder. The firey sword that strikes from the heavens.
I am energy, force, motion. I am all that She is not.
And all that I am will be in your hands to wield. 

Close your eyes. Grip tightly, and swing with abandon. Do not question. Do not seek context. These are distractions that will slow you.
From this point on, you live and die by the blade. 

Come with me. I will teach you to dance. Every step, purposefully given after the other. Your eyes, forward, unblinking. You wield purity, your enemies do not.

Your enemies are fragmented. Unworthy. Bladeless.They lack conviction. You do not. You must not.

Dance.

Feel the weight, get accoustomed to it, Disciple. 

It will keep you alive for as long as you follow the steps.

Stray from the dogma, and you will invite doubt. 

You will invite Her back. She will drag you from the shoulders, push you deeper into the mire. She will drown you. Stray, and the Lady of All Wounds smiles. 

Vanquish her with fire.

Let the flames surround you, and no longer will you feel heat nor cold. No longer will you feel your wounds and the tics in the clock. Only the dance exists.

Dance, Disciple. 

Become momentum.

 Vanquish time.

 Vanquish meaning.

 Follow every swing with another.

Correct any misstep with a swing. 

Return any strike with one of your own.

You are ready, Disciple. It is time for you to wear the mantle of my legion. 

This is my last gift for you. The symbol of the chosen, the passionate, the aflame.

To always deter Her from intruding context in your quest;To keep Her vile sisters at bay from clouding your conviction;To keep you on the path and forever dance, I give to you:

A blindfold.