Nachash

alam

• 
  
  
  

  R E N T A L S 07.22 - Rented by Phantasm for companionship. 07.21 - Rented by Wendigo for companionship. 07.18 - Rented by Phobia for companionship. 07.17 - Rented with Shackleton by Phantasm for companionship. 07.16 - Rented by Lyubov (Omryn) for companionship. 07.12 - Rented alongside Shackleton by Phantasm, for instruction in bondage. 07.05 - Rented by Phantasm for companionship & ritual work. 07.05 - Rented by Phobia for companionship & divination. 06.08 - Rented by Phantasm for companionship. 06.07 - Rented by Lucile for divination. T R A I N I N G 07.24 - Training session with Shackleton in leather-working. 07.15 - Training session with Shackleton in bondage (rope tying). 07.13 - Training session with Shackleton in star-charting. 07.08 - Training session with Shackleton in mathematics. 07.07 - Began training with Shackleton in star-charting and advanced mathematics.

• E N T E R T A I N M E N T Some slaves may have a myriad of talents that they preform at events or on stage; singing, dancing, or the like. Nachash is no different, albeit her skill set is a little unorthodox. There's no adequate way to describe what happens when Nachash takes the stage. Most are horrified at what otherworldly sights play out upon the dias, many more are repulsed, but none can look away. It is not oft the living linger on the ephemeral nature of mortality, and much less frequently do they come face-to-face with it. The spectacle of it all is downright bewitching, and will have most murmuring a psalm when they return to their beds. P E R F O R M A N C E S 08.05 - Performed with Cabra at the slave auction.

  
  
  
  

  ﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏
• כָּמוּס
  
  
  secret, latent, ulterior, hidden, inscrutable, concealed

  
  
  
  
  

  F A T E

  
  08.13
  My life has been transformed before my very eyes since last I have written, so much so that I scarcely recognize it as mine… It has been too long since I’ve taken the time to transcribe it all, or since I have had the time to even jot down a few passing notes. How could I ever convey everything that needed to be in these few fleeting moments now? I suppose we should begin with the less recent events that have come to pass.
  
  I was purchased by Omryn some time ago, a shaman that I met while on display in the atrium of the Tether. While on a rental, she took me to her home and gave me tea, until the Pale Queen happened upon us and set our fate into motion. Ever since that time, we have grown so much closer and with such a rapidity that it scares me at times. I could not persist here without her. Her purpose is much the same as mine in this world and I have found comfort in that dismal similarity. She finds me beautiful, and I her. She has been the only one in my life to see my true nature for what it is and still covet me.
  
  She is my Udagan now, my teacher, and I her apprentice. She says that she is the master of no one, but she is surely mine, and I hers even if only in the quiet moments we are alone. I call her Papa, for she has become as if my own. She protects me, provides for me, and has stolen away any capacity I have for want of another to serve. I can only hope that she will keep me, for my heart would break if we were to be separated now. I want to make her happy, to make her appetites full, to be the best pupil that I can be, to make her want for no other. I know it is a selfish greed and an impossible desire to fulfill, for she has a wife, a partner, children with them, along with many other lovers I am sure. Still, I cannot help but feel that we are different together, that what we have is something to be cherished and nurtured.
  
  For what other reason would I have done what I have? I am enamored of her too and could not stop myself should I wish it, but I do not wish it. It was born of Papa’s kindness to me, and now it has taken on a life of its own.
  
  I had been with Papa for but a few weeks before Cabra returned. I knew that she would come; I had foreseen it in a prophesy. Sure enough she came to me, much changed by the fae migration. In this form we grew close once more, whispered things that we had not dared to in the time before our separation. I confessed my sins to her, of Shackleton, of the Pale Queen, of Papa. She was bitter and cruel, but she is not to blame. I too would have reacted in such a way had the roles been reversed. We act as if jealous lovers in each other’s lives and I suppose it is candid to say that is what we have become.
  
  While I had grown weak in our time apart, she fed me until I was replenished, let me gorge until the flesh given to Papa healed over. It is only all too ironic that now I’ve my other half returned to me that I begin to wither again.
  
  She was unaccepting of Papa at first, furious at my traitorous heart. She threw a tantrum over it all in front of Papa, but I cannot blame her. I know that this is not easy for her, and that while she wants for me to be happy, she cannot help that she is possessive and just as greedy as I am. She has promised to me to make it right again, but I think it is too late. After my devil caught sight of hers… it refuses to come. It is not just silent within me, but feels as if lacking altogether. Blood will keep me for a time, but I am already growing weak. My body craves for nourishment, for sustenance, but my mouth refuses to open.
  
  Cabra does not believe that my devil will let us starve to death, but I do. I know it will. My only hope is that it will listen to reason, for what it thinks is treachery is a simple miscommunication. If it were not such a dire thing, I would find hilarity in it all.
  
  Brother will come to take my soul when it is done, of this I am sure. I wonder if he is here with me now, watching it all unfold. Apophis always told Cabra and I that we would perish without him. It seems that I will prove him right.
  
  Let me enjoy what time I have left. I only wish that I could see, but I will take what I have.

  
  
  

  T R A I T O R

  
  08.10 // This entry is scrawled in an abnormal, erratic, and messy scrawl. It looks nothing like the previous entries.
  
  

  proditor proditor proditor proditor proditor proditor proditor proditor proditor

  proditor proditor proditor proditor proditor proditor proditor proditor proditor proditor proditor

  proditor proditor proditor proditor proditor

  
  Numquam iterum, falsum est Christus. Deceptor.

  
  
  

  D E S I R E

  
  07.13
  I am changed. After the commencement of dawn, nothing will remain the same, and there is no other truth I’ve been more certain of.
  
  I awoke this morning, blissfully content, in arms not my own. How foreign it is a thing to be embraced, to be touched, to have hands and lips laid upon one’s body. I have lived a life of seldom contact outside myself, and in one night, the Pale Queen has undone it all.
  
  My body aches in the wake of over stimulation, the barest brush of fabric upon me is an agony of sensation. I wish that my skin would crawl from me so that I need not suffer unto this punishing hell. A night like last demands retribution and to be felt in full. I will agonize in it. So grievous are my sins, there will be no reprieve from these memories.
  
  From the moment that my fellow slave plucked me up from where I stood, it was too much. I thought that I might withstand such a touch if it lingered just long enough to snare me with the kiss of rope. For her, I could bite my tongue and still the agony of it all. And yet, he laid me down, placed his body betwixt my spread thighs, let his fingers ply at the tension in my muscles, and taught her how to bind me.
  
  If only it were that simple, if only that were where the evening had concluded. Now my conscious is hazy with a desire I have never known.
  
  What is it to want something, solely for oneself? A slave should not dare to yearn for anything beyond a patron’s pleasure, and yet, there is something I want.

  
  
  

  G I F T S & P R O M I S E S

  
  07.05
  I was given a gift this evening by the Pale Queen who haunts me still. When has anyone ever delivered unto me an offering? Why would she care to do so? I had not predicted as much when she initially rented me for the night, and I find myself adrift in a tide of emotion in the hours after. There is no reprieve from the sensations she provokes in me. It’s a sickness; a madness that will leave me devoid of all reason.
  
  Regardless of motivation, she directed me to the gardens. The evening was temperate, beautiful even, with a clear view of the night’s boundless sky. I shadowed after her through the rows of planters and manicured lawns, to the less meticulously kept wilds of the garden, until she had led me further than I’d even been before, to the edge of the crags.
  
  A woman’s cadaverous form lay there, abandoned upon the ground, eyes and lips sewn shut, and hands severed from the wrists. She looked so helpless laying there, forsaken by god, deserted of life. She conveyed that it was a present for me, that she knew I was ready. I do not know what she meant, her tongue so rarely speaks anything but riddles.
  
  I cut away the stitching, opened her eyes, and pulled them from their sockets. I cut her tongue from mouth, severed both ears, pulled from her a portion of her scalp... So consumed was I in the task that I nearly forgot that she watched every delve of claw into flesh. The dead most be honored, and I would not let her spirit remain there, floundering in the further. I would put her to rest, as I do all those who have fallen wayward.
  
  When finally, I came to my senses and aware of my surroundings once more, she was at my flank, with her hands upon my flesh. The Pale Queen wished to know what I was to do with my collection of viscera, and when I told her the truth of it all, she bade me show her. I led her away from the establishment and into the depths of the jungle, to my sacred space, and revealed to her the truth of my sacrament. She observed me, witnessing that sacred, horrid act. I devoured it in front of her, consuming the essence of a soul, unable to stop myself, annihilating what it ever was and would be, and she yet asked for a taste of it.
  
  I could not provide her that, and so I damned myself in the mortal need to please her, to sate her. I promised to teach her, to show her, to facilitate the craft.
  
  What have I begun? She will consume me. She has told me as much; that she would have me as her own. As much as the thought of serving her delights me, we know that this is a portent of suffering do we not? Is that not what I am?
  
  May she forgive me, for I’ve not the strength to resist her culling of my wards. She only invites her own ruin, along with whatever sanctity of my soul remains. She will unleash me.