Lost
Walking down the aisle led to her doom, in all sense of things. A preacher possessed by the scourge read the wrong ritual and *poof* suddenly her dreams were disrupted along with the lives of everyone in that cursed wedding.
So she wanders... the injuries to her fouled brain sometimes causing her to believe every day is the day before it happened. She'll be seen with her groom, a silent horror by her side as she finds a way to fuse the anima of his soul with the burned husk of flesh they left behind. So far she's been unsuccessful, and each time she peers into his anima she takes a wee little sip, just to taste a few drops of her former lover's soul. He won't notice a little bit off the top and it makes her feel so... powerful. Ok maybe one more sip. Last one!
Chains are gently placed around his bones to prevent him from attacking weary citizens in places they visit.
Her bridal clothes hang off in weeping clumps of lace. Her eyes glow with a secret ritual of bonding. A mangled bridal bouquet of roses entangles a strange staff she carries at all times. Rumor is that it's adorned with the skull of the former possessed preacher of her catastrophic wedding. Her skin is pale and cool, a bit more preserved as she feeds off the anima of her doomed groom. As he burns and withers, she grows more beautiful and alive.
She cannot remember her name. She introduces herself as "Lost", as it was the first answer to a question she was asked after wandering in shock from the wedding massacre:
"Are you lost?"
"I believe I am now."
Lost's Memories Her memory is swiss cheese, and she has nothing but flashes of the legendary romance between her and the hideous, unresponsive husk she leads on a chain. She knows of battles fought back to back with a handsome warlock with messy raven hair, a professor of the occult. She can see his flashing eyes rumbling with fel energy as he stole, absorbed, twisted demonic powers. His dark magic could conflagrate entire armies, as she also witnessed in her nightmares.
Countless excursions, half pieced-together flood her mind. A gentle hand turning into a blood-soaked one, then a burned husk. And his eyes... beautiful eyes that once held the universe, pools she could gaze into to see her future were now black pits of smoldering flesh. Frantic, chaotic anima holding him together.
Moments remembered of learning, growing with him makes her heart ache. Laughter in a private study, a desk being cleared for their bodies in haste, blood-magic rituals of bonding, entwining shadows poured from their souls together like vines, radiating pleasure when touched... torture her dreams until her mind drifts into one and gets stuck, holding on.
She now has eternity to remember his name. She will find a way to break his fucking curse. Always, tomorrow. Right after this little sip of his anima... delicious.
Art on the left by Adam Schmidt at misteradam.com
Circular illustration by me (Nesnora)
Wyrmrest Accord screenshot of Lost and Found in-game.
