Envy's Story
His eyes are the maroon of a sun cresting over the horizon, and they have a warmth and depth that defies conventional description. She leans in close, feeling his heartbeat and listening to her own; they are beating as one, and as they move deftly around the dancefloor she finds herself practically on her own plane; she closes her eyes and pretends that they are alone, that it is only her and him and the slow, deep music. She didn't think it could be like this.
She is not, by any means, used to this sort of thing. Her kind are not meant for love, and while her sister is by far less suited to the prospect it is she that laments it the most. Until this point, she did not think it possible. She feels his talons in hers, rubs the crested feathers of her headdress against his beak, and wonders if this is what it feels like for them, too. She has only ever seen the world through the eyes of others, taking in their fears and hopes and dreams. She is the Other. Always fated to be someone else.
The vaulted ballroom in which the two dance overlooks the seemingly endless rust-colored desert. The matte blue metal from which the tower is constructed reflects the two ambient orbs of light in the massive circular roof, casting the entire room in a gentle glow, illuminating only what needs to be seen. Over a hundred of the Inui flutter in and out of the room, going about their business. Some feast on roasted sandskimmers, some sip warm, heady wines, others saunter to the dance floor with those they love, or those they might. A thick, slow bass reverberates throughout the spherical room, a quiet accentuation to the reverie.
Near the stage, two Inui sit together, sharing the same cup of a green liquid. They have just been wed, successfully merging two of the most influential and powerful families in the entire western sands. It has been a long, complicated courtship. The two are hardly in love, though they share no ill feelings. Their union is looked at with unmixed pleasure, heading off the mounting tensions between their families. This is their event; the whole of the nobility is here to celebrate. But few eyes rest upon them, as the gravity of the room seems to shift into its center, where two winged lovers dance.
They move slowly, deliberately, in a way that betrays little skill. It is the raw passion between them, however, the unmitigated desire and love, that makes their dance so powerful. He is Nnina, a prince of the warrior-clan Jokko. He is notorious for being chaste; among these people, it is nearly unheard of for a young warrior to be anything less than promiscuous. He has, however, brushed off all those who wished for his company, and there were many, all for the love of her. She is Loppi, youngest daughter of a merchant family that, while noble, is not the type one would expect one of the warrior families to ever associate with, for more than a night or two. But from the moment he saw her, he knew there was no other woman for him.
Loppi, for her part, loved him. She denied him at first, believing he would tire of her once a fortnight had passed and she would bear his eggs alone, to the knowing smirks of all the other ladies of the court. He had been relentless in his courtship, however, undertaking several self-imposed quests to prove his love to her. At last, she had accepted his bid for her affections.
This woman is not her. She shares her body, her memories, but Loppi's face is nailed to a room deep within the recesses of the Fourth House, where last vestiges of blood still manage to drip, from time to time, out of eye sockets from which the tears have long dried. She came to Loppi's chambers late in the night, and what transpired there none were privy to; her silent screams fell to one set of ears, from which no sympathy was returned. The process was slow, brutal, for without raw emotion the ritual loses all meaning. The Inui who did this to her was not one she had ever seen, but in time it did not matter, as the murderer placed the freshly cut skin onto her own, absorbing every moment of Loppi's life, every thought, every dream. And her love for Nnina. A love that the culprit herself shared, but one she could never indulge. Not as herself. But as Loppi, she had a soulmate.
She purrs, ever so slightly, as Nnina whispers to her of his love, of the lengths to which he would go to prove himself even now. She is wrapped in ecstasy. She has existed nearly since the dawn of time, her lot in life one of murder, judgment, and the ceaseless grip of the vice she was born to at once exploit and punish. She is Envy, and she knows that this world will one day have to end, and that it will be by her hand, that she will help to build this civilization to its peak before tearing it to shreds, but in this moment, for the first time since her inception, she is happy, content.
“Oh dear sister, don't be ridiculous. You can't be happy. You can't be satisfied. It is not in your nature.”
The voice is not Nnina's. She knows it, however, and her eyes go wide as she pushes him back. The edges of his beak tilt up, a wicked smile. His appearance begins to change, the familiar green feathers turning to a pure, unadulterated gold. He is called Pride.
“You...you miserable, despicable little-”
“Come now, sister. You didn't really think it would last, did you? This pathetic shade of a superficial love some low-level merchant's daughter felt for a man she could never deserve...that you even pretended to it is pathetic enough, but to let it affect you so deeply is truly pathetic.”
She shakes with rage, her talons clenched so tightly she draws blood from them.
“What did you do with him?”
“Nothing so horrible. It turned out he was truly in love with that little Inui girl, much more than himself. Naturally I found this entirely reprehensible, but I gave him the honor of slaying him in an official duel.”
“...Why? Why him?”
“I don't even know what that question means. This is what we do, sister. We corrupt. We build. We destroy. It has been our lot since the beginning, and it's going to remain that way until the end. Until we are finally finished. No mortal, not a solitary one of them, is worth anything more than a useless plaything to us. I am simply saving you from becoming any more invested in this baseless fantasy.”
Envy cannot speak. For so long she has suffered, without a moment of reprisal. And here, at the smallest glimpse of anything beyond the tortured existence she has been forced into, she is broken.
She extends her consciousness out into the desert, searching for something. When she finds it, she simply nods, not answering her brother. Her body begins to contort sickly, expanding and elongating, taking on a muted yellow that sends all the Inui fleeing. Their one natural predator, the reason they have built their vaulted blue towers, the Aarathi, the sand worm. More begin to sprout from the ground, and the tears gathering at Envy's eyes fall as spiked feelers take the place of her face and beak. She stands at full height, a massive creature whose every inch is designed to make her a more efficient killer. Five more now stand around her, extensions of her will.
The massacre is unmitigated. The night becomes legendary, though it is not remembered long. The Inui had at least another half-century left to them, but Envy goes on a rampage that leaves nothing of their civilization. For all their advancement, the Inui cannot defeat their enemy from within, especially not with Envy's fury behind it. In days, they are gone.
And Pride simply watches, and smiles.
