show them the joy and the pain and the ending; Ajatar

[Ajatar]

ajatar

devils speak of the ways in which she'll manifest;
angels bleed from the tainted touch of my caress.

Used.
The word feels strange on her tongue, mulling the thought over before saying it aloud. "Used," she echoes, confused at first but then - again, this time with meaning - "Used." There's a finality with the way she says it, a switch that clicks on in her brain. Her mother used her. She took the power that Ajatar had and unleashed it without a proper funnel, without a proper safeguard. She remembers Romek, so long ago, telling her the same thing. Learn control, learn control! and again, her grandsire Deimos, who looked at her like she was the devil himself. She is a plague waiting to be unleashed.

Ajatar had no control over anything, least of all her life.

"I have been used," she agrees, and now the word sits right against her lips. It's comforting, almost, to know that maybe Longclaw's death solely her fault. Maybe, maybe, her mother can share a part of the blame? Surely if she'd been someone else's child the entire disaster wouldn't have happened.

Surely.

"How is it not a curse, if it was used to kill your son? My only friend? I can't think of a way in which this" - she allows a small semblance of control, the leaking of the poison from her veins to kill the flower next to her, watching it wither and die in a similar fashion to Longclaw before he imploded. "Is anything but death and destruction."