Scarecrow [KN][Otome, Supernatural] (Feedback?)
Posted: Tue Jan 31, 2012 3:40 am
Scarecrow
It is said that there is a little village somewhere hidden within the Cursed Forest. Few have ever ventured into this forest to discover the truth of this imaginary village. And the ones that did have never returned.
Though many have not seen it, the village exists. It is a prisoner behind the gnarled trees, and twisted creaks and snaps of the Cursed Forest. Even those that live in the village, which is located at the center of the forest, refuse to enter the Cursed Forest. The history behind it was too ghastly for that.
It was not always cursed, this forest that is, no. It was once a flourishing woodland, with cheerful people abundant and joy resplendent. A sort of country Utopia, filled to the brim with kind people and pure intentions. That is, until It came.
How to describe this thing; Well, it had a head, a body, some feet and some hands. Very dark, very beautiful midnight eyes. A peach skin tone, that at times beneath the moonlight looked positively glowing. It looked human. But what lied beneath it's exterior was a sadism, a madness that was far beyond the imagination of these kind village people. This thing had power. He had the power to destroy, to manipulate. It was something inborn within him, inherited through a recessive line of mental instability, and Dark magic. When It arrived, royally clothed, bearing riches beyond the mortal realms, they all thought him an angel. But he bared his fangs in due time, and destroyed with pleasure at he liked. None could escape his twisted grasp.
This Thing had no weakness, at least not one easily seen. The Thing, it was still human, you see, though it's heart was much more like a demon than a mortal's. This Thing had her. His sister, Belicia.
He was in love with his sister.
Some say that this very fact was what drove the Thing mad; Those that say that did not know of his corrupted genes. But perhaps that fact, that he was in love with his own blood kin, had contributed to the mania. That sort of dark desire could not have been very healthy.
She didn't know the truth. Of his unbalance nor of his love. Not for a very long time at least. And then one day, she found out. She had turned in one night very early, due to a little cold she had caught during her activities in her backyard (Because her loving brother was too protective of her to allow her to run freely. And she thought she understood that it was because of her weak constitution). As she was lying in bed, eyes resting but not sleeping, she heard her brother's footsteps into the room. She recognized the familiar rhythm, but she did not stir. Then, she felt it. She felt the cold, dry lips of her brother softly brush her own. That was when she knew.
She turned to her servant Othello.
She seduced him, took him into her bed, and became pregnant. She thought she could get away.
But she misjudged her brother. He had no one, nothing, only her. He slayed Othello and chose to become his sister's new husband, and father to her child.
That was where madness corrupted her.
Disgusted. Revolted. She hated him.
And after the birth of her child, she plotted.
And when the day of reckoning came, she executed her plan.
He was sleeping and she thought she had him. She did not know of his insomnia. As she lunged, he dodged. His eyes, filled with pain, and only pain. Pain for her betrayal. But she was persistent and eventually, she landed the knife into his abdomen, and pushed until buckets of red enough to fill a bathtub spilled.
With his dying breath, he cursed her, with tears in his eyes.
"You will never get away from here. You will be trapped here forever, physically and spiritually. I will wait. You shall be reborn in the future and I will be here to claim you as my own. And then finally, finally, we shall be together..."
Still filled with madness, she took his body and strung it up outside her estate. She crucified his dead body with barbs and wires and all who looked upon it were repulsed. They left his body up there until it rotted away, flesh and bone. But while he was on display, he frightened and repelled them all. He was dead Scarecrow.
She did not believe his curse but it was real. Had she known of his Dark blood, she would've believed him. The prophecy came true. The forest wilted, and the trees became an inescapable maze. She was trapped, with her baby boy, and the villagers that had grown to hate her. They avoided her as though she was a plague. And as she grew older, she found no happiness. She died but her son continued the line.
Over and over again, her family line reproduced, and every time, a male child was born. No other children were ever birthed and the only child would continue the line, somehow, as though someone was turning the hands of a clock manually, waiting for it to strike a certain hour. Over and over again...
For 500 years.
Until the birth of Iris.
It is said that there is a little village somewhere hidden within the Cursed Forest. Few have ever ventured into this forest to discover the truth of this imaginary village. And the ones that did have never returned.
Though many have not seen it, the village exists. It is a prisoner behind the gnarled trees, and twisted creaks and snaps of the Cursed Forest. Even those that live in the village, which is located at the center of the forest, refuse to enter the Cursed Forest. The history behind it was too ghastly for that.
It was not always cursed, this forest that is, no. It was once a flourishing woodland, with cheerful people abundant and joy resplendent. A sort of country Utopia, filled to the brim with kind people and pure intentions. That is, until It came.
How to describe this thing; Well, it had a head, a body, some feet and some hands. Very dark, very beautiful midnight eyes. A peach skin tone, that at times beneath the moonlight looked positively glowing. It looked human. But what lied beneath it's exterior was a sadism, a madness that was far beyond the imagination of these kind village people. This thing had power. He had the power to destroy, to manipulate. It was something inborn within him, inherited through a recessive line of mental instability, and Dark magic. When It arrived, royally clothed, bearing riches beyond the mortal realms, they all thought him an angel. But he bared his fangs in due time, and destroyed with pleasure at he liked. None could escape his twisted grasp.
This Thing had no weakness, at least not one easily seen. The Thing, it was still human, you see, though it's heart was much more like a demon than a mortal's. This Thing had her. His sister, Belicia.
He was in love with his sister.
Some say that this very fact was what drove the Thing mad; Those that say that did not know of his corrupted genes. But perhaps that fact, that he was in love with his own blood kin, had contributed to the mania. That sort of dark desire could not have been very healthy.
She didn't know the truth. Of his unbalance nor of his love. Not for a very long time at least. And then one day, she found out. She had turned in one night very early, due to a little cold she had caught during her activities in her backyard (Because her loving brother was too protective of her to allow her to run freely. And she thought she understood that it was because of her weak constitution). As she was lying in bed, eyes resting but not sleeping, she heard her brother's footsteps into the room. She recognized the familiar rhythm, but she did not stir. Then, she felt it. She felt the cold, dry lips of her brother softly brush her own. That was when she knew.
She turned to her servant Othello.
She seduced him, took him into her bed, and became pregnant. She thought she could get away.
But she misjudged her brother. He had no one, nothing, only her. He slayed Othello and chose to become his sister's new husband, and father to her child.
That was where madness corrupted her.
Disgusted. Revolted. She hated him.
And after the birth of her child, she plotted.
And when the day of reckoning came, she executed her plan.
He was sleeping and she thought she had him. She did not know of his insomnia. As she lunged, he dodged. His eyes, filled with pain, and only pain. Pain for her betrayal. But she was persistent and eventually, she landed the knife into his abdomen, and pushed until buckets of red enough to fill a bathtub spilled.
With his dying breath, he cursed her, with tears in his eyes.
"You will never get away from here. You will be trapped here forever, physically and spiritually. I will wait. You shall be reborn in the future and I will be here to claim you as my own. And then finally, finally, we shall be together..."
Still filled with madness, she took his body and strung it up outside her estate. She crucified his dead body with barbs and wires and all who looked upon it were repulsed. They left his body up there until it rotted away, flesh and bone. But while he was on display, he frightened and repelled them all. He was dead Scarecrow.
She did not believe his curse but it was real. Had she known of his Dark blood, she would've believed him. The prophecy came true. The forest wilted, and the trees became an inescapable maze. She was trapped, with her baby boy, and the villagers that had grown to hate her. They avoided her as though she was a plague. And as she grew older, she found no happiness. She died but her son continued the line.
Over and over again, her family line reproduced, and every time, a male child was born. No other children were ever birthed and the only child would continue the line, somehow, as though someone was turning the hands of a clock manually, waiting for it to strike a certain hour. Over and over again...
For 500 years.
Until the birth of Iris.
