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[Miss Rhiannon]

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Rhiannon looked to the moon, her emerald eyes almost glowing in the moonlight. A strange smiled curled from her lips. Her long, crimson hair blew wildly in the wind. She had tagged along with Lee and Daz in their search for any remaining kin of Lee’s. They had had no luck. Daz and Lee had spent most of the week together, leaving Rhiannon alone. Truly, she had no idea why Lee had asked to her to come.

All that time alone had strengthened the Voice. Rhiannon had fought it long and hard, but tonight it had escaped. Her loneliness had made her mind weak, and when a group of pixies attacked her she had felt more anger than fear. Who were these self-righteous pests to judge her? She had enjoyed killing them. Freezing and strangling them…, and at some point during the fight, the Voice had taken over, and Rhiannon no longer had control of her own actions.

Finally, the Voice spoke aloud for the first time. "I am out!" She stretched her arms to the sky, arching her back, and then looked down at the pile of dead pixies surrounding her. Chuckling, she shrugged and turned her eyes to the sky. "Hmm. What shall we do first; now that someone who knows how to have fun is in control?"

Rhiannon lay quiet in the cage inside her mind.

"The silent treatment? Aw…you’ll come around. You just need some time to adjust. Now, let’s see what kind of trouble we can get into, shall we?"

Rhiannon remained quiet, still.

After a long hike, the Voice found a small town that, much to her liking, had a tavern. She sauntered in and scanned the room. Sketchy crowd: drow, dwarves, a few hooded figures drinking alone at the bar. She took a seat at the bar, crossing her legs - not bothering to straighten her short skirt. Her supple thigh caught the eye of a young, strong-looking drow across the room. She felt his gaze and smirked to herself as he made his way across the tavern to the seat next to her. He asked her name. “Ishana”, she responded. She had always like that name better than “Rhiannon.”

Rhiannon curled in a tight ball in the cage in her mind. She knew what the Voice wanted. It wanted to share a bed with the drow for the night and then use him to test her strength. It wanted him for everything he had to offer her; pleasure and battle practice. One of them, either the drow or Rhiannon, would die before the morning.

“Well, Ishana. My name is Jarmyr. What’s your poison?” He nudged his head to the rows of ales, wines and liquors behind the bar.

“I don’t care what your name is, and I don’t want a drink.” Ishana stated in a matter-of-fact tone as she turned her body towards his. She leaned in and whispered into his ear, “But, you do have something I am interested in…” She slid her hand up his thigh.

The drow was quiet for a second, taken aback. His surprise quickly turned into excitement. “Back to my house, then?” Ishana nodded and followed him home.

They wasted no time once inside his house. The drow slid his hands under her shirt, around her waste. Rhiannon began to cry as Ishana grinned, wickedly. He used his body to push hers against the wall, forcefully. Ishana ripped open the drow’s shirt and dug her nails into his skin, drawing blood. Rhiannon’s heart began to break as she thought of Fong’s touch. She would not allow this…she would not…she would not…

Rhiannon began to speak to the voice; she spoke of all the beautiful things in her life: the friendships she had formed, the home she had built, the island with which she had fallen in love. She stood tall in her mind and screamed of the life she had built for herself. She reminded the voice that she, Rhiannon, had built this life. She had been the one taking care of things. She had been doing a damn good job of it, too. And she, Rhiannon, would NOT ALLOW THIS!

The Voice was taken off guard by Rhiannon’s strength, by her confidence. It was in this moment of weakness that Rhiannon fought back. She saw a key to freedom lying on a table next to them: a skinning knife. She brought one knee hard to the drow’s crotch causing him to double over in pain and to weaken his grip on her body. She grabbed the knife and sliced into her own thigh. The Voice weakened even more, as self-inflicted pain went against its self-serving essence. Rhiannon was able to take complete control over her body again. An Ex Por! She paralyzed the confused drow and ran from the house into the woods as quickly as possible.

She ran back to the place in the woods where Lee and Daz were camped. She rummaged through Lee’s satchel and pulled out a strip of leather. She took a knife and frayed one end into nine strips. She scurried away from the camp thinking of the darkness inside her. It was this night that she realized the truth. Others deal with dark afflictions all the time, like Fong and his black rock infection. However, in the cases she had heard of, the victims had been infected by either a disease or some poisonous object. Therein, lay the difference. She, Rhiannon, had not been infected. She had been born with this darkness. The madness was in her bloodline. To what lengths must she go to control something so strong?

She reached a clearing in the woods and took off her shirt. She looked to the moon and shivered as the cold air circled her body. "I will go to whatever lengths necessary," she affirmed to the empty air. She dipped the self-made whip into a nearby creek, soaking it in the water. She stood tall, gripped the whip, and began to flog her bare back. With each lash, the Voice was pushed further and further down. She grimaced as the leather struck her flesh. Five times was all she could take, stopping just short of drawing blood. It was agonizing, but the silence of the Voice was wonderful; the physical pain brought blissful relief from the emotional torture.
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aka - Brittany Tyven

I have only been married once. That was in consequence of a misunderstanding between myself and a young person.
-"Lane" in The Importance of Being Ernest

[Miss Rhiannon]

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Ishana leaned back in her chair, hidden in a tiny room somewhere in the depths of Rhiannon’s mind. She propped her feet up on a table in front of her, crossed one foot over the other, and laced her fingers together behind her head, quietly humming a light-hearted tune. She watched Rhiannon toss and turn in her sleep and pondered their new dilemma. Taking Fong’s advice to seek help after Ishana's prison break last week, Rhiannon had visited Ceinwyn - per his recommendation. (How Rhiannon was even contemplating trusting this woman – a woman who had once been in love with Fong – was beyond Ishana’s comprehension, but that was another ball of wax.) Ceinwyn had presented Rhiannon with a couple of methods that could silence Ishana, forever. Either way, they had to determine if Ishana was a part of Rhiannon’s soul or if she was an entity of her own. Ishana reached towards the table, willing a cup of tea to appear – it did, and she began to sip. Entity of my own… she contemplated, tried to remember and shook her head, hesitantly. No. We are one, she told herself.

She pushed gently off the table with one foot, tilting back in the chair and rocked methodically. I shouldn’t have come out so strongly…so – noticeably. It would be a week before they launched the mission to destroy her. I need some time… She continued rocking; still humming quietly.

She shifted her gaze to the sleeping body next to Rhiannon. She glared at him. Mr. Helpful. I've had just about enou- she stopped her thoughts and sat perfectly still when Rhiannon's eyes opened for a second. Ishana reminded herself to stay calm - stay quiet. Rhiannon shut her eyes and drifted back to sleep. Fong lay undisturbed next to her.
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aka - Brittany Tyven

I have only been married once. That was in consequence of a misunderstanding between myself and a young person.
-"Lane" in The Importance of Being Ernest