**Note ~ This is my imagination recreating Lina's past. If it doesn't fit in with the real Slayers' story line: tough. If it doesn't fit in with the story line in your head: tough. This is my story...deal with it. ^^
Groping along the wall with her right hand, Lina thought about all that
had happened since she met her conscience; or so he called himself.
She was just a plain girl. Raven hair like Shylfiel's...blue eyes like
Gourry. But she hadn't been pretty. She was weak too. She would watch
her family work while she sat and watched. And then she ate the most in the
evening, to re-supply the energy sapped from her weak and sickened body.
She thought that if she knew magic, then maybe she could help. But she was
told over and over again by masters of magic that she was too weak and it would
kill her all the quicker.
It was a sad thing. And ugly girl with not future to look forward to.
Then he arrived.
No one else knew about his arrival but her. He amused her with magical
feats, making flowers grow and then picking them and weaving them into her
hair. He showed her more love in his friendship thatn anyone ever had.
One day, she asked a favor of him.
"You want me to do what?" he asked. Obviously he didn't believe what
she was asking.
"Make me stronger. Give me beauty. You've told me stories of how you've
done it before."
"But you heard how those stories turned out."
"I know, but I don't care. Give me part of the demon in you. I'm ready for
the consequences."
With a sigh, he asked her once again if this was what she wanted. She
agreed and pleaded with all her heart.
With a deeper sigh, he bit the end of his tongue. Blood emerged, pooling
within his mouth. After a few moments, he pressed his lips to hers...and she
drank. She...always the fool...accepted this curse with open arms, thus
destroying both their lives.
She was changed physically. Her hair turned orange-red and her eyes faded
and shifted to a crimson ruby color. Her face changed, not much, but enough to
give her a child-like beauty. And, as a sign of what he did for her, two black
dots appeared on her forehead. Not much else changed. She still had the body of
a fifteen year old girl...but a stronger one. Her appetite remained...habits,
she supposed, were harder to change. And she would have these changes forever.
Mentally, she changed significantly. She was not capable of many powers.
And because of the physical changes, she could handle them. Her personality
now fit her appearance. Fiery and bold, she had lost her innocense. The ways
of the world transferred from the power-giver's mind to hers.
Pulling out the mirror she packed, she looked upon herself and smiled. As
she did so, the man looked at her blankly. Something inside him died with her
innocence. He was now just a heartless shell.
At that moment, she decided not to return to her family. She would trouble
them no more; she would live on her own.
The man simply wished her a hollow "good luck" and they parted ways. She
could still "speak" with him in their thoughts, but it was not the same.
Eventually, he became lonely and insisted she return to him. She refused,
and his summoning magic only worked when the person summoned was willing. So,
from then on, he talked down to her, whittling away at her self-worth. All the
while, calling himself her "conscience".
When she met her traveling companions, he redoubled his efforts. She was
able to resist, but eventually she grew tired and started to believe what he
said. He had been right before...why not now. That was when she returned home;
to him.
She wished she could have heard what Zelgadis was going to say as she
continued to grope the walls in darkness. A torch flickered nearby...all
around. But darkness was forever to her. A little after returning to him, she
became blind.
It was a random act of rage on his part. He struck out, knocking her
against a rock. He felt her neck, and upon finding she was alive, left her
there.
When she awoke, her eyes revealed nothing unto her. A healing spell could
have easily cured her...but she didn't cast it. She preferred not to
see the monsters she had made them both. And then....after a while...she
couldn't if she wanted. She had forgotten how.
Years Passed
She traded her sorceress's clothes for a drab grey tunic and a pair of
tight, leather trousers. She did what she was ordered to do wordlessly,
accepting the physical and emotional beatings.
She had been reduced to a dirty, blind, mute mound of worthlessness. The
only thing she kept of her old self was the black hand around her head. The
jewels were gone and the cape as well as the glories. Her red hair had lost its
luster and shine. Her eyes had grown dull and lost their softness from years of
disuse. Indeed....now she looked how she thought, and how he thought of her.
More Years Passed
She was awakened from her slumber by the clashing of steel against steel.
Sounds she recognized, sounds of battle. Someone was having a duel of swords.
Quickly getting out of her bed, she followed the sounds until she reached
the hallway leading to the main hall, a wide open area, perfect for battle. On
her way there, she had heard voices above the swords.
"I've come for Lina." a voice oh so familiar....but she couldn't put a name
or face to it.
"You'll never have her!" another voice snarled. Her conscience owned that
one.
She reached the main hall and halted at the doorway, listening to the
battle. No more words were spoken, but metal continued to ring in her ears.
Then a snarl/cry of pain. She recognized that sound. It was the sound of a
deathblow...judging by the tone...it was delivered to the gut. But she
recognized the voice as her conscience and then all she heard was labored
breathing. Silence emitted from everywhere else.
"Miassa?" a quiet voice echoed through the room, making everything
silent, including the labored breathing. Lina was surprised when she realized
the voice was her own, and she had spoken a name unspoken for years: her conscience's
real name.
She heard slow shuffling in her direction as her name was whispered
reverantly from another direction. Then, a hand upon her face. It was growing
cold and was covered with a warm, sticky liquid. Blood. The hand moved from her
cheek and cupped her head at the temple. It was then that a shape formed in her
mind. Everything else was dark.
There knelt her conscience, Miassa, before her. His right hand on her
cheek, his left covering a profusely bleeding wound in his abdomen. The look
in his eyes brought tears to hers.
Upon hearing Lina speak after so many years....and with such innocense he
thought he had destroyed forever...he found his lost heart. With tears in his
eyes, he spoke to her, ignoring the intruder that had dealt him the death-blow.
"Lina...I'm so sorry for what I did to you..." he paused and coughed up
some blood. A pool gathered underneath him and was staining her clothes.
She could "see" the tears from her eyes fall onto his cheek. "I should
never have asked you to do it..." she respondedm still not used to hearing her
own voice. She then placed both of her hands on the one on her cheek.
He smiled. "I should never have listened. I'm sorry..." he whispered and
leaned forward. The vision before her was blurring and soon faded into darkness.
"Miassa?" she asked to the shadows.
"I'm sorry..." he whispered again and she felt something brush against her
lips. Then his hand fell away and he was still.
Tears still pouring down her cheeks from her once again sightless eyes, she
wrapped her arms around his bloodied form. "No Miassa...I'm sorry..."
She heard a clearing of someone's throat across the room. She brushed the
tears away and with dead eyes, stared at the darkness....at the man that killed
her conscience...no...not her conscience....her friend.
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