[Arien]

“Interesting…” whispered Dristi from beneath her robes. She was again wrapped deep within her priestess robes, and all but her gleaming, straight hair was hidden behind them. She watched the spectacle Sevora had arranged with amusement, an altar, drums and all! And Sevora doing her usual duty, killing a helpless person for sacrifice, how hard and strenuous on her physical and mental self. That was no sacrifice, it was simply cutting up the already dead meat for service to The Dark Lord. Kitchen duty as Dristi had recently nick named it.

The real sacrifice was when you hunted for the meat and then killed it, you efforts paying of and a little of your strength surrendered to the Dark Lord. Hey, but whatever riveted Sevora, she was not complaining. As the girl died, now Sevora ordered that idiotic gofer to kill her father. Hard job to seeing as the village was now filled with their company and running would surely result in a punishment worse than death. She continued to watch the play before her, smiling with delight at the insolent people she was bound to travel with.

“Dristi?” Sevora had turned to her and now looked into her eyes.

“Yes, oh high priestess?” smirked Dristi her eyes dancing with laughter.

“Dristi, you remember to see me in my quarters….” she drawled, seemingly oblivious to what Dristi had just said, but Dristi remembered not to take Sevora at face value.

“Yes, after I have a little exercise, pray if you will. You see Sevora,” she said menacingly, “ some of us have the skill to catch and slay the sacrifice, others need it laid down in front of their pretty eyes." She laughed and walked off before Sevora could reply. Dristi made her way quickly to the outskirts of the village, she swept across the sandy streets as if gliding. Night was falling and that torturous sun burnt the sky with and orange glow. As she came to a sandy clearing she sat herself down. And taking out one of her knives she drew a circle around where she sat. Then sitting upright she pulled back her sleeve to reveal a deep mark just above her wrist.

It was an eye, delicately carved by herself and the wound reopened every time the moon disappeared. When it was nearly all darkness, but for those blasted stars. She carefully gathered some dry leaves and twigs and made a fire. She sat up right, the small fire in front of her. She took her kife and carved into the wound, the blood spilling into the fire. A sweet smell of burnt blood rose into the looming darkness.

“Oh Dark One, envy I have, greed, lust, pride and anger. Receive these good things I have and make them more powerful. Tell me your wishes if you want, but to be kept in the darkness is your wish. For those who worship the light have never experienced your darkness.”

[ July 12, 2003: Message edited by: Arien ]