Post by The Beldam on Jan 22, 2023 2:03:35 GMT -5
The Beldam
Discord: The Supreme Gaiety#5352 (Mitsu)
Password 1: Kitai's Debt
Password 2: Sanctus Teamwork
Type: Technique Master
Affiliation: Espada/Las Noches
Rank: Segunda Espada (Rank 4)
Basic Information
Name: "The Beldam" (True Name Unknown)
Age of Death/Damnation: Varies (Death) | 143 (Damnation)
Age: 805
Birthday (Month/Day): March 8th
Blood Type: AB-
RP Sample (Optional): [Insert Here]
Appearance
Height/Weight: 7ft (215cm) | 220lbs (100kg)
Physical Description: Contrary to her moniker, at first glance the Beldam is quite beautiful. She is an unnaturally tall woman with a full, if a bit willowy figure. Her limbs are long and elegant, and she moves with a natural grace that makes her appear to float more than anything. She possesses long black hair that falls in a straight curtain down her back, brushing the backs of her thighs ever so slightly. Her hair is cut into bangs that fall to her jawline and just above her eyes, framing a gentle face with soft features.
However that is, as was stated, the first glance. Anyone who looks upon her for a longer period of time will take in more and more features that make her appearance truly monstrous. Her skin is not simply pale, it is wan, a color more akin to a corpse that has been trapped within a mausoleum for centuries and yet has not become desiccated. While it is an interesting comparison, it is all the more unsettling as she gives the air of something that isn't alive but is masquerading as one of the living. When looking at the Beldam in all her glory, her "willowy" figure takes on a distinctly skeletal feel. Her long limbs being strong and predatory where they were once delicate and graceful, the elegance of her movement now taking on an eerie quality that makes her appear more like a stalking specter than a dancer upon a stage.
Taking an even closer look at her body shows a strange infection that has taken root across her form. It manifests in a strange rot colored in deep reds, flaming oranges and warm yellows, showing concentrated mostly within her extremities and across her chest. The highest concentration of the infection has colored her hands in a red so deep its near black at her fingertips, however the worst of it has manifested in a much more disfiguring way. Her arms and legs, as well as across her ribcage, seem to be in a state of perpetual decay, with large gaping wounds opening up to expose the bones within her body. While her internals are exposed to the elements, no blood drips from these wounds and they do not seem to be affected by contamination or the outside world.
The Beldam's facial features, while contorting at first, quickly contort to something one might only see in their nightmares. She possesses large, doe-like eyes and lips that gently lilt up into a smile, however looking at her eyes reveals that their sclera are completely black in coloration while her pupils are a ghastly white color that is startling in its brilliance. Her irises are a deep red-orange, reminiscent of fire or the color of leaves in autumn. And while on anyone else her smile might be comforting or charming, she possesses vicious cuts that span from the corner of her lips across her cheeks to her ears, and are stitched together with blood red thread.
The Beldam's clothing is comprised of dark, flowing fabrics with a maple-leaf motif, with several similar accessories decorating her hair. This motif itself mimics a strange pattern present in the infection that has taken her body, as the discoloration of her flesh takes shapes reminiscent of clusters of maple leaves. She also possesses a strange sort of "companion", and it cannot be certain if this creature is a part of the Beldam herself or simply some entity she has taken a shine to. It takes the form of a blackened skeleton comprised only of a spine and a large bird skull. From the mid-point of this creature's spine extends two wing-like protrusions, more membranes than anything. They are colored in orange and red, though singed at parts as though burned at some point in the past.
While the Beldam's entire appearance can be seen as something gravely unsettling, what can truly put one on edge is how her appearance seems to shift. What has been described is what she generally looks like when one addresses her, but in certain high stress situations her appearance flashes to that of other beings less monstrous but all the more tragic in their forms. This tends to only occur at moments of heightened emotion for the Beldam, with particular emotions eliciting specific shifts in appearance.
When taken by fits of joy and elation, she seems to shrink, appearing as a young women with messy brown hair and bright eyes. This girl smiles widely with unadulterated glee, however her smile is marred by large gashes cut into her face from ear to ear. When shocked, surprised or rarely fearful her visage changes to that of a darker skinned woman with haunted eyes, wearing a dress of all white with blood drenching her front. Finally, when angered or taken by a bout of madness she takes the form of a tall old woman with a wild expression, dressed in rags that are singed at the edges as though they had once caught flame.
{The Belle Dame}
Personality
Overall Personality: The Beldam is a study in complexity, to the point where one would question her sanity after interacting with her consistently. The truth of her mind is that it is an amalgamation of individuals more thoroughly than any other Hollow-born entity. Rather than a single Hollow winning out, the Beldam is a combination of three and as such possesses features from all of them, as well as the result of the three soul's traumas and experiences. Because of this, she appears to be an extremely fickle individual, with her interests and attentions changing like the seasons.
The Beldam is quite easily distracted, even by the most mundane of occurrences, which makes it extremely unreliable when it comes to completing certain tasks. It is often a grave mistake to give the Beldam a job to do without sufficient incentive to complete it, because the odds are that it simply will not get done. Or at the very least it will be completed on her timeline and not one that was desired by the person who gave her the task. There are few things she seems consistently interested in, and those that she does show an interest in can range anywhere from music to knitting with little if not no connections between them.
Her second interest is much more gruesome: battle. More specifically the act of killing therein. She takes great pleasure in taking a life, and will most often play with her “prey”, drawing out their torment or even giving them a false sense of hope that they might escape before killing them. Though this is what makes her an exemplary combatant, getting her to complete a job that doesn’t have a prospect of battle or death is a fool’s errand.
Much like her interests, her loyalties and feelings towards others can be changed quickly as well. If someone falls out of her favor, appears weak too often, or simply annoys the Beldam too much she is likely to leave them behind without a second thought. When her trust is truly earned, usually through a feat of great power or by proving they care for her, she is a fierce and steadfast ally. Though these are few and far in between for the little assassin.
Despite her moods and attention shifting often, the Beldam always displays a friendly or cheery demeanor. For all intents and purposes, she appears as a small woman with a bright smile perpetually painting her face and not a malicious killer, and often leads others to feel at ease around her when they shouldn’t. While she is almost always bright and bubbly outwardly, that doesn’t mean she doesn’t feel other emotions, they are just veiled in her smile when she does let them come to the surface.
Those who have experience with her, or with people who hide their true feelings behind sweet words and saccharine smiles, will notice the slight difference in her features when emotion takes her. When angry, her smiles take on a sharp edge, showing more teeth than necessary. When saddened, though this rarely happens, they waver ever so slightly at the edges. When taken by a bloodlust, her smile and eyes become more manic than joyful, giving a glimpse at the dangers behind her careful facade.
To go along with the air of gentleness she carries, the Beldam is also overly affectionate with others. She gives hugs, cuddles, kisses on the cheek and other displays of physical affection freely to those who are open to receiving them, and even to those who aren’t. This extends not only to people she knows, but strangers and even those she is antagonistic towards or are antagonistic towards her. The woman knows few boundaries and will often invade personal spaces without a care. She also knows fully this is capable of making people uncomfortable, and takes more pleasure in doing so when it does.
The Beldam does her best to come across as soft and sweet, but there is little she can do about her inherently sarcastic nature. It slips free no matter how much acting she puts forth, so rather than repress it she has learned to express it in such a way where her remarks seem genuine. Her cheery affect is enough to make others think she doesn't have a mean bone in her body, making it all the more satisfying that she is capable of whispering insults that sound like compliments, fiction that sounds like fact and lies that appear to be truth.
Alignment: Lawful Evil
Aspect of Hell: Monstrosity
Dislikes:
✿Pacifists: If there's one thing the Beldam can't suffer, it is those who refuse to fight. Anyone who is incapable of fighting, whether for themselves or others or something they believe in or want to protect, she views them as nothing more than livestock to be slaughtered and fed to her voracious appetite for blood.
✿Men: Though she doesn't show it in any significant change to her smiling persona, the Beldam has a deep-seated dislike for men, and even some especially masculine women. She is colder to them in general, and when fighting them tends to be much more vicious, a feat in and of itself.
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✿Men: Though she doesn't show it in any significant change to her smiling persona, the Beldam has a deep-seated dislike for men, and even some especially masculine women. She is colder to them in general, and when fighting them tends to be much more vicious, a feat in and of itself.
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Likes:
✿Flowers: While it is in-keeping with the persona she has adopted, the Beldam's love for flowers is a strange outlier in her otherwise bloodthirsty outlook on the world. But love them she does, and actually keeps a garden in impeccable condition. Though it can be noted that she uses the bodies of some of her victims as fertilizer.
✿Fighting: Created to be a weapon of war, some could argue that the Beldam's conditioning took a little too well. She has a love for fighting that goes beyond obsession, though it is during a fight where she finds herself in her element.
✿Bloodshed: Though one might think that bloodshed and fighting go hand in hand, the Beldam isn't of the same mind. Bloodshed covers that which doesn't always come from fighting: she a child-like joy in murder and torture, anything where she enacts suffering and pain on a victim.
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✿Fighting: Created to be a weapon of war, some could argue that the Beldam's conditioning took a little too well. She has a love for fighting that goes beyond obsession, though it is during a fight where she finds herself in her element.
✿Bloodshed: Though one might think that bloodshed and fighting go hand in hand, the Beldam isn't of the same mind. Bloodshed covers that which doesn't always come from fighting: she a child-like joy in murder and torture, anything where she enacts suffering and pain on a victim.
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Habits:
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Powers
Fighting Style: The most notable feature about the Beldam as a combatant is the fact that she lacks any notable release state. She shed the power of Saisei Oni early on in her existence as an Akki, assimilating the whole of her power fully into herself through the purifying heat of Hellfire. Many might view this as an act of self-mutilation, something that would limit her power and make her all the weaker however in truth the Beldam has reached greater heights of power after having freed herself of her perceived shackles.
The Beldam, as her name suggests, is a witch. She possesses a magical aptitude surpassing those of the masters of Kido within the Soul Society, however her magical aptitude is not restricted to the use of Kido as theirs are. The practice of magic is a precise art, requiring the confluence of spiritual energy as well as the application of intent in the form of incantations and the shaping of both in a formulated way in order to bring about the desired effect of a spell. This leads to many casters being systematic in how they perform their art, but the Beldam is not beholden by these restrictions. Her method of casting is more instinct, she brings the energies required for her spells to bear and breathes them to life simply by force of will.
The ease at which she is capable of evoking spellcraft makes it appear as though the Beldam is capable of bending the world around her to her will with a flick of a finger. This is exemplified in the way she most favors fighting: control. Her spells are manifested in such a way to cut off any options her opponents might have, to coral them into a position most favorable to her so that she may mow them down at her leisure. The practice of spellcraft requires a highly intelligent mind, and hers is impeccable in such a way that she is capable of even bending her spells to match how her opponent most favors fighting. This makes facing her head on feel as though one is fighting the forces of nature made manifest, a battle that no one desires or envies.
While capable of calling to bear a wide variety of magical powers to cut down her opponents, that which comes easily to the Beldam is that which she has deemed "Hell Magic". It is a brand of magic that taps into her very blood, drawing into the world the energies of hell and allowing those energies to twist the world around her to fit her whims. She most favors channeling these energies into the elements of the world, corrupting them with the principles of Hell in order to turn them into ghastly weapons she can use to enact horrific punishments upon those who dare to face her in combat. She favors the use of seven "elements" in combat, each brought forth by enforcing an Aspect of Hell onto the world.
The first of these element is formed by manifesting Hell's Aspect of Emptiness into the very atmosphere around her, turning the winds to deadly purposes. These winds sound as though they carry the voices of thousands of the damned, moaning out voices full of woe. When they come into contact with an individual, they leave a feeling of being drained of all energy, emotion and even will to live. To be surrounded by these winds is to also discover that while they are indeed made up of the element, they do allow one to breathe and actually rip the breath from one's lungs. The truest danger of these winds is the fact that they do in fact drain one of energy, leaving them metaphorically and literally empty as they are assailed by the ghastly gales.
The second element is manifested by channeling Hell's Aspect of Slavery into the ground at the Beldam's feet, turning the soil, the minerals, all the materials of the deep earth into servants for her cause. Spells of this element form structures almost exclusively, and these structures more often than not take the form of monstrous beasts or hulking individuals bound in chains that are commanded by the Beldam herself. This should not lull one into a sense that this element is any less dangerous than the others, as any of these creations are capable of turning their own bodies into bonds or prisons with which to entrap and ensnare unsuspecting victims. It is easy for anyone to be made a slave to the Beldam's will, and with the sheer force of it, this element shouldn't be underestimated in comparison to the others.
By channeling and charging the air with Hell's Aspect of Eternity, the Beldam is capable of concentrating and consolidating her power into the form of lightning and electricity. This element is rather straight forward in how it affects the world, as its Aspect imparts itself onto the nature of lightning itself rather than whatever the lightning strikes. Where flashes of lightning are often quick and fleeting, the Beldam's manifestation of it has paused the clock on its manifestation, dragging out the presence of the lightning in perpetuity. Spells of this element last for much longer than any of her others, defying the inherent transience within the nature of lightning in order to assail or hamper her opponents.
In-keeping with the theme of defying the nature of the world's elements by imparting the powers of Hell upon them, the Beldam is capable of channeling the Aspect of Rot into the flora around her, twisting plant life to her means rather than killing it outright. She is capable of growing monstrous roots and plants even in environments that would be hostile to their production, causing them to lash out at her victims or restrain their movements. Hell's power manifests in this element's ability to spread rot and decay into all living matter that it touches. This infection, a scarlet miasma that permeates the area around any of these created plants, corrupts other plant life while causing a spreading sickness in all other living organisms, spiritual or physical.
Applying Hell's Aspect of Resurrection into the moisture surrounding the Beldam in order to form an element that almost appears benevolent in its effects. The water brought forth by the Beldam spreads a soothing energy through one's body, refreshing and restoring them from fatigue and wounds they may have received. These waters are capable of restoring one from even the most grievous of wounds should they be fully submerged for a long enough time. What hides within these depths is truly insidious, however, as it does not heal but rather taps into one's previous state, "resurrects" them in a form contrary to what they are at present. And as it is capable of restoring one to a whole condition, it is also capable of restoring old wounds, bringing back old pain, plunging a victim into an endless cycle of painful resurrection.
The Beldam is capable of channeling Hell's Aspect of Agony into a form very familiar to her as a Sinner: flame. It manifests in a form reminiscent of Hellfire, however due to its nature it does not burn the same, it requires no fuel to exist or propagate. Where it touches, it "burns" leaving behind a feeling as though one's cells are being broken down at a structural level without the "fire" producing any heat. While this element manifests in the form of fire, it gives off no warmth and doesn't even seem to illuminate like regular fire. All the parts of flame that allows for life is removed, leaving behind a pure heat that can only blister and incinerate, something that brings only suffering, spreads only pain, and is intent on consuming everything and everyone in its path.
The final element that the Beldam calls upon is perhaps her least favorite, as it simply tends to end a fight far sooner than she'd like. She channels Hell's Aspect of Death into the cold that permeates the world, manifesting a dark ice that simply ends life where it touches. The cold and frost she produces is cold in its purest sense, not only in a physical sensation but to the point that wherever it spreads begins to feel as though it any ability to sustain life has been completely sapped from the space. Experiencing the cold alone begins to leech the energy from any "living" individual, whereas coming into contact with the ice itself begins to quickly necrotize cells, spreading death slowly but surely.
The Beldam's
Other Techniques (Kido, Cero, Etc.):
Freedom of Barbatos - Wind Spell
Contract of Morax - Rock Spell
Eternity of Beelzebul - Lightning Spell
Wisdom of Buer - Plant Spell
Justice of Focalor - Water Spell
War of Flauros - Fire Spell
Love of Dantalion - Ice Spell
History
Birthplace: Varies
Current Residence: Las Noches, Hueco Mundo
Memorable Figures: Husband (The Maiden's Killer), Doctor (The Mother's Killer), Mayor (The Matron's Killer), Boys (The Monster's Victims)
History: Trigger Warning: Depictions of murder, domestic abuse, transphobia and misogyny.
{The Maiden}The Maiden lived a happy, if sheltered, life. She was the daughter of a well regarded shop owner in a small town so she grew up in the public eye more often than not. Which she didn't mind, no sir, she was a good and dutiful daughter. She brought pride to Mother and took Father's words as gospel. She was professed by many to be her father's favorite child, a fact which she did not dispute even if it caused her to be somewhat distanced from her siblings. They still loved each other deeply, as family was meant to do, and that's what mattered to her.
The Maiden was a spot of light in the lives of anyone she met, which made her beloved around the town. She was known for the baked goods she and Mother would make to be sold at Father's shop, and for the flowers she would deliver to those around the town that she felt were in need of a loving presence. To have the Maiden around was to feel like the warmth of the sun was turned on you and you alone, and it was no wonder that many a man of high repute sought her hand in marriage. Someone so pure and so loved would make an excellent wife, after all.
The man that won out was someone from a town over, offering Father deeper business connections than anyone else could. The Maiden didn't mind much, she wanted to do her utmost to help Father and her family. Besides, Husband was a nice enough man. Older than she by more than a bit, but with a kindly face and gentle bearing. He was a business man, much like Father, but on a grander scale and with more resources to hear others tell it. Even in all her perfection, she was lucky to have been made such a perfect match as Mother was sure to remind her. And she agreed.
Her life didn't change much outside of the scenery. Husband lived in a grand house with large grounds just outside of the town where he worked, and went to great lengths to supply for her all she needed to feel comfort and security. She was given free reign over the kitchen and had her own garden supplied. The Maiden carried on handing out baked goods at market, and flowers to those in need of a brighter day. Husband took great pleasure in going with her on these outings, watching her smile and bring light to those they met.
The Maiden was content for a time, but it came to her attention that Husband was not. The more outings they went on, the less and less content he seemed. He insisted that she smiled differently for others, that she showed strangers a light that he didn't get to see as the man she married. The Maiden was confused, sure that she had shown everyone she met, including her Husband, the same warmth and light as she always had. She did her best to correct this, channeling all the care she could into her interactions with Husband in order to make sure he was appeased. He didn't complain for a time, but he never truly became comfortable with their visits to the people of the town.
Soon enough, Husband began to join her less and less frequently, and when he did he would turn upon her sharp words of admonition whenever she smiled too brightly or conversed too long with anyone he did not approve of. And he did not approve of so many people. The Maiden's confusion only grew, as she saw no way to assuage whatever wounds she had dealt to her Husband. How could she, when she didn't know how she had inflicted those wounds in the first place? Her journeys into the town became more and more scarce in an effort to offer more attention to Husband, hoping that their spending time together would make him happier.
He was not made happy by the increase of the Maiden's presence, but he seemed to bear it with grace. Their lives continued on for some quiet years, and with each one that passed without her bearing him a child he became more and more cold towards her. It was not for lack of trying, as she did her duty as a wife as often as possible so that she could become a mother. Without her visits to the town, she lacked anyone other than those who worked within the house and on the grounds to interact with, and there was a distinct lack of love there. She wanted someone to call her own.
The longer she went childless, the crueler Husband became. He began to critique everything about her, even coming to cast aspersions on things that he had praised to high heavens when they had first been married. He seemed to anger at the slightest provocation as well, and his anger evolved from turning sharp words upon her to lashing out both verbally and physically. It took a toll on her, appearing more and more drained and waifish the longer the treatment continued. She counted herself lucky that visits to her family had become as rare as her visits to town, she didn't know if she could stomach Mother seeing her in such a state.
Throughout all of this, the Maiden never gave up trying to brighten the lives of others even as hers became more and more bleak. Husband began punishing her for that as well. Being too kind to a cook earned her a burn upon her palms that ensured she couldn't cook, or do much else for herself. Sharing polite conversation with a gardener as she watched him work on her flowers saw the Maiden's garden, which she had so lovingly brought up throughout all of this, plucked up at the root and thoroughly destroyed. She was steadily and systematically torn down by the man that she had once thought was so kind. At least she still had her smile.
And unfortunately, that seemed to anger Husband the most. The one thing he couldn't destroy, or even dim, was the brightness that she could bring with her smile. And that brightness, the brightness that he felt had been hidden from him since the moment they married, drove him near mad with rage. One night, delirious with that rage and strong drink, he dragged the Maiden from their bed bodily, the slight woman putting up little resistance but crying apologies and repentance all the same. All the way he spat venom about how she had never loved him, never smiled for him, never wanted to give him a child. He said that if she loved to smile, to show others such joy, that he would make it easier for her. That he would make her smile permanently.
Husband didn't heed her screams as he cut a bloody smile into the Maiden's cheeks. She struggled, though only weakly, and she had waned so much that it was nothing against the strength of the man brutalizing her. He left her upon the kitchen floor in blinding pain, trying to call out with a mouth that no longer obeyed her commands as mutilated as it was. She barely noticed as she passed, suddenly looking down on her still form and yet still attempting to call out to others for help. No one had heard her, and she watched with an intense horror and sadness as she was simply taken from the kitchen by the servants and buried in what was once her garden. She was not Husband's first wife. She hadn't asked about the other gardens that he had kept perfectly maintained. She should have.
The Maiden lingered, first in a numb haze and in uncertain denial of her death. Then, she lingered in pain and hatred. She had been so good, so kind in life, and she was murdered by a vile man who wouldn't have been satisfied even if she had lain the world at his feet. She was angry, and that anger manifested itself into the place of her death. She doesn't remember the specifics, but she does recall the deaths of the men who entered the kitchen. It always seemed to occur when one raised their voice to someone unnecessarily, or struck one of the cooks. The final death, the one that saw the house abandoned, was the death of the lord of the manor when he attempted to "discipline" his young wife. His death was gruesome, his stomach ripped out and his mouth cut open from ear to ear.
The Maiden also remembered the pain in her chest and the absolution of her obsession, or at least the ebbing of it. But now that she was avenged, now that other girls like her were safe...she was still hungry. Not just hungry, she was empty, with nothing to drive her or to keep her tethered to the world. She was Hollow. When had she gotten a mask? No matter. She was starving, and needed to find something to eat...
The Maiden was a spot of light in the lives of anyone she met, which made her beloved around the town. She was known for the baked goods she and Mother would make to be sold at Father's shop, and for the flowers she would deliver to those around the town that she felt were in need of a loving presence. To have the Maiden around was to feel like the warmth of the sun was turned on you and you alone, and it was no wonder that many a man of high repute sought her hand in marriage. Someone so pure and so loved would make an excellent wife, after all.
The man that won out was someone from a town over, offering Father deeper business connections than anyone else could. The Maiden didn't mind much, she wanted to do her utmost to help Father and her family. Besides, Husband was a nice enough man. Older than she by more than a bit, but with a kindly face and gentle bearing. He was a business man, much like Father, but on a grander scale and with more resources to hear others tell it. Even in all her perfection, she was lucky to have been made such a perfect match as Mother was sure to remind her. And she agreed.
Her life didn't change much outside of the scenery. Husband lived in a grand house with large grounds just outside of the town where he worked, and went to great lengths to supply for her all she needed to feel comfort and security. She was given free reign over the kitchen and had her own garden supplied. The Maiden carried on handing out baked goods at market, and flowers to those in need of a brighter day. Husband took great pleasure in going with her on these outings, watching her smile and bring light to those they met.
The Maiden was content for a time, but it came to her attention that Husband was not. The more outings they went on, the less and less content he seemed. He insisted that she smiled differently for others, that she showed strangers a light that he didn't get to see as the man she married. The Maiden was confused, sure that she had shown everyone she met, including her Husband, the same warmth and light as she always had. She did her best to correct this, channeling all the care she could into her interactions with Husband in order to make sure he was appeased. He didn't complain for a time, but he never truly became comfortable with their visits to the people of the town.
Soon enough, Husband began to join her less and less frequently, and when he did he would turn upon her sharp words of admonition whenever she smiled too brightly or conversed too long with anyone he did not approve of. And he did not approve of so many people. The Maiden's confusion only grew, as she saw no way to assuage whatever wounds she had dealt to her Husband. How could she, when she didn't know how she had inflicted those wounds in the first place? Her journeys into the town became more and more scarce in an effort to offer more attention to Husband, hoping that their spending time together would make him happier.
He was not made happy by the increase of the Maiden's presence, but he seemed to bear it with grace. Their lives continued on for some quiet years, and with each one that passed without her bearing him a child he became more and more cold towards her. It was not for lack of trying, as she did her duty as a wife as often as possible so that she could become a mother. Without her visits to the town, she lacked anyone other than those who worked within the house and on the grounds to interact with, and there was a distinct lack of love there. She wanted someone to call her own.
The longer she went childless, the crueler Husband became. He began to critique everything about her, even coming to cast aspersions on things that he had praised to high heavens when they had first been married. He seemed to anger at the slightest provocation as well, and his anger evolved from turning sharp words upon her to lashing out both verbally and physically. It took a toll on her, appearing more and more drained and waifish the longer the treatment continued. She counted herself lucky that visits to her family had become as rare as her visits to town, she didn't know if she could stomach Mother seeing her in such a state.
Throughout all of this, the Maiden never gave up trying to brighten the lives of others even as hers became more and more bleak. Husband began punishing her for that as well. Being too kind to a cook earned her a burn upon her palms that ensured she couldn't cook, or do much else for herself. Sharing polite conversation with a gardener as she watched him work on her flowers saw the Maiden's garden, which she had so lovingly brought up throughout all of this, plucked up at the root and thoroughly destroyed. She was steadily and systematically torn down by the man that she had once thought was so kind. At least she still had her smile.
And unfortunately, that seemed to anger Husband the most. The one thing he couldn't destroy, or even dim, was the brightness that she could bring with her smile. And that brightness, the brightness that he felt had been hidden from him since the moment they married, drove him near mad with rage. One night, delirious with that rage and strong drink, he dragged the Maiden from their bed bodily, the slight woman putting up little resistance but crying apologies and repentance all the same. All the way he spat venom about how she had never loved him, never smiled for him, never wanted to give him a child. He said that if she loved to smile, to show others such joy, that he would make it easier for her. That he would make her smile permanently.
Husband didn't heed her screams as he cut a bloody smile into the Maiden's cheeks. She struggled, though only weakly, and she had waned so much that it was nothing against the strength of the man brutalizing her. He left her upon the kitchen floor in blinding pain, trying to call out with a mouth that no longer obeyed her commands as mutilated as it was. She barely noticed as she passed, suddenly looking down on her still form and yet still attempting to call out to others for help. No one had heard her, and she watched with an intense horror and sadness as she was simply taken from the kitchen by the servants and buried in what was once her garden. She was not Husband's first wife. She hadn't asked about the other gardens that he had kept perfectly maintained. She should have.
The Maiden lingered, first in a numb haze and in uncertain denial of her death. Then, she lingered in pain and hatred. She had been so good, so kind in life, and she was murdered by a vile man who wouldn't have been satisfied even if she had lain the world at his feet. She was angry, and that anger manifested itself into the place of her death. She doesn't remember the specifics, but she does recall the deaths of the men who entered the kitchen. It always seemed to occur when one raised their voice to someone unnecessarily, or struck one of the cooks. The final death, the one that saw the house abandoned, was the death of the lord of the manor when he attempted to "discipline" his young wife. His death was gruesome, his stomach ripped out and his mouth cut open from ear to ear.
The Maiden also remembered the pain in her chest and the absolution of her obsession, or at least the ebbing of it. But now that she was avenged, now that other girls like her were safe...she was still hungry. Not just hungry, she was empty, with nothing to drive her or to keep her tethered to the world. She was Hollow. When had she gotten a mask? No matter. She was starving, and needed to find something to eat...
{The Mother}The Mother grew up knowing she was different, no matter
{The Matron}
{The Monster}