[ In truth, the old Inancha might be horrified at the monster she has become. Many times, she had stood before a mirror, left to watch what once was begin to fade and shape into a smaller copy of the man she had followed. Once, she faltered. Building regret of pushing Baz and Khara away had bubbled up within her and festered, the guilt of knowing she had rejected the two people who were the closest to family she had. ]
[ But they left. The Collective remained... Inancha had enough experience in abandonment to know that her choices were all she had. To leave would be to end up alone again, and that was not an option. Certainly not when they found her so useful. And eventually, the guilt fell away. Nights that used to often go by with silent weeping became merely a dark silence. ]
[ In her training and grooming, pain has no longer become an issue. It is a tool. And Inancha revels in the burning, white-hot pain that radiates in her side and pushes hot blood from its opening. Her eyes dare not to leave Khara as their gazes meet, and the only gesture she offers is a further incline of her head, the same tilt she had often give her in question before her undoing. She feels the blade shift against her, though the grasp of its owner weakens. Jebei was right in saying Khara is still soft, still hanging on the hope of getting her friend back. It would be useful, he said, to use that against her. ]
[ If Inancha could feel surprise any longer, she would feel it in knowing her face is a much stronger weapon than a blade or spell. Cold and thoughtless, Inancha watches as Khara crumbles before her and falls to one knee. Her free hand reaches for the hilt of Khara's blade, grip tight as she works to take it firmly within her plated fingers. ]
Broken.
[ Inancha speaks softly, firmly. ]
But not as instructed.
[ With a bout of force, she works to pry the blade from Khara's grasp, intent on tossing it as far from them as possible. ]
no subject
[ But they left. The Collective remained... Inancha had enough experience in abandonment to know that her choices were all she had. To leave would be to end up alone again, and that was not an option. Certainly not when they found her so useful. And eventually, the guilt fell away. Nights that used to often go by with silent weeping became merely a dark silence. ]
[ In her training and grooming, pain has no longer become an issue. It is a tool. And Inancha revels in the burning, white-hot pain that radiates in her side and pushes hot blood from its opening. Her eyes dare not to leave Khara as their gazes meet, and the only gesture she offers is a further incline of her head, the same tilt she had often give her in question before her undoing. She feels the blade shift against her, though the grasp of its owner weakens. Jebei was right in saying Khara is still soft, still hanging on the hope of getting her friend back. It would be useful, he said, to use that against her. ]
[ If Inancha could feel surprise any longer, she would feel it in knowing her face is a much stronger weapon than a blade or spell. Cold and thoughtless, Inancha watches as Khara crumbles before her and falls to one knee. Her free hand reaches for the hilt of Khara's blade, grip tight as she works to take it firmly within her plated fingers. ]
Broken.
[ Inancha speaks softly, firmly. ]
But not as instructed.
[ With a bout of force, she works to pry the blade from Khara's grasp, intent on tossing it as far from them as possible. ]
You will fail. As you have before many times.