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"That's my Q" #666 "Requiem for the Innocent"<On> <Bathory Manor, Hungary, 1610> The redhaired noblewoman was soaking in the tub. The hot water, being constantly refreshed by two diligent, nude servant girls - Dorota and Ilona - both in their early twenties, both loyal to the countess who used and abused them so vigorously. "Dorota, wash my hair - use the lavender shampoo." Erszebeth Bathory spoke. The redheaded woman, in her early fifties though still looking Very good for her age, closed her eyes and leaned back, mmmm'ing, with a soft smile on her face as she just enjoyed the warm water, the attentions that Dorota was giving her head and her auburn hair. / Mother can you hold me, one more time again ? / / Whisper 'I still love you' in my ear ? / / Mother did you lie ? / / Would you tell me why ? / Erszebeth frowned. Thoughts of a farm .. A farm in Russia. In Vengerovka, to be precise. A family - father, mother and daughter. A redhaired daughter. Kristiana. So familiar, yet so strange. This .. This wasn't right, she felt. The manor, the bath, the servants, so true, so real, yet so wrong. This wasn't her. This shouldn't be. She wasn't Erszebeth Bathory. Eyes flashing open again, a look of horror on her face. Q .. Q did this. Threw her into this legend, this fantasy, or perhaps this grim and dark truth - and she was the Monster. Yet .. Was Bathory a monster ? All that she wanted was to remain young, remain beautiful .. Every woman wants the same. Kristiana understood, understood all too well, feeling the same. / There is something deeper that I fear / / Justify the malice I portray / / Daggers in the darkness find your way / / When the moon is full and piercing bright / "NO !" Kristiana Bathory shouted, jumping out of the tub. She stared at the two servant girls, nude like she was, her hair half shampood, dripping wet. "Milady Bathory ?" Ilona ventured. "A-are you alright, Ma'am ?" Dorota inquired, both of them shrinking back a bit from Kristiana. / Drench me with your innocense, tonight ! / "I .. Who am I ?! Tell me ! NOW !" Kristiana demanded. ".. You are our Mistress." Dorota looked a bit confused, but answering quickly, not wanting to upset this mighty woman in front of her. "The Honorable and Beautiful Countess, Erszebeth Bathory .." Ilona spoke, looking fearful at the woman before her. "Bathory .. .. A mirror !" the elder woman demanded, Dorota hurrying off to return with an elaborate, rich hand-mirror a few moments later. The face staring back at Kristiana was not her own. Or was it ? Different, but the same. Unfamiliar, yet certain. "Bathory .." she spoke again, eyes narrowing a bit, before throwing the mirror, shattering it against a wall. / Don't you want to die ? / / Walk besides me evermore .. / / Don't you feel alive ? / / Like you've never felt before .. / ".. I'll dry you off, Milady Bathory .." Dorota carefully offered, a rich towel in hand. Ilona got the silent hint and went to fetch the Countess' red court gown from Katarina, waiting in the next room over. Erszebeth remained silent, trying to make sense of the conflict, like two people inside the same mind, same body, vying for control. / Visions of the future, unprofound and blurred / / I have passed the point of no return / / Justify the malice I portray / / Let me keep my beauty one more day / "Come now, I know something that will cheer you up, your Ladyship." Dorota offered, giving a knowing nod to Ilona, who, once again, understood the hint, and went ahead to unlock the cellar doors. "I know you'll feel better after this, Milady." And Erszebeth Petrova followed, trying to figure a way out of here, out of this Nightmare .. No .. Not a nightmare .. Just a dream. She understood it, the what and the why .. She understood and she agreed .. / When the moon is full and piercing bright / / Drench me with your innocent tonight ! / Erszebeth walked down the stone steps, into a deep, dark, damp dungeon. Distant sobs becoming louder. The final - thick, heavy - door creaking open on it's hinges, the sobs turning to cries. The scene shocked and horrified Kristiana. Yet at the same time, it drew her in, completely, and it seemed to her a scene of abstract beauty, undeniable and true, real and there. Stone dungeon walls, sparse light from torches a few, four young nude women chained and shackled, with various degrees of cuts, bruises and wounds. / Don't you want to die ? / / Walk beside me evermore .. / / Don't you feel alive ? / / Like you've never felt before .. / "No, please, no !" One of them called out, her voice weak from pain and dehydration. The other three remained silent, even as Ilona offered Kristiana a dagger, slender, long and razorsharp. "Oh god, no - no more !" the chained girl screamed again, body shivering. Kristiana just wanted her to shut up. Such a display of weakness. Erszebeth brandished the knife, it felt comfortable, it felt known. She saw the blood seeping down from cuts and bruises already present. The girl's leg twisted in an impossible way, her skin damaged, the sight caused her to almost gag - but then - she smiled, darkly, grimly, understanding - needing it. Feeling it. / Don't you want to die ? / / Souls trancending, silver shine / / Don't you feel alive ? / / Your blood preserves my place in time / "You godforsaken bitch from h - " the scream was silenced by a swift flash of silver, virgin carmine red splattering on Kristiana's red court gown. <Off> (Lyrics are Kamelot - Requiem for the Innocent) |
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