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"Go on," she hissed, "Slit my throat. Let me bleed out in this prison. Let my blood splatter your shoes. But when I'm gone, there will be no one left who ever loved you."
♱
Act I.
There's something festering on those of The House of the Scorpion, making them rot from the inside out.
Maybe the venom that runs through their veins instead of blood is to blame. Or perhaps it's Maenna Qorgyle's unceasing yearning for being more than just human.
The offspring of Sandstone's Scorpion is not just flesh, bone and sinew; belly and breasts; elbows and liver and toe. One could say she's a daughter, but only really half one. Because how can you be a daughter if your mother refuses to be one? She could be considered a lover, but how can you truly love if you haven't been taught to? Not to mention a scorpion. One with cutthroat claws, and sharp fangs, and a deadly sting. No one sees this, however. They only see pretty smiles and shining eyes.
Nothing more.
Act II.
Now she's also a wife — on paper alone. A mother but not quite one. In reality, Lady Maenna Qorgyle is a scorpion with angel wings and girlhood's naivety decomposing like a corpse that has been long under the ground.
