Post by thewarchild on Apr 24, 2016 22:07:03 GMT -6
As the sun faded over the hills that surround the Chosen compound it's rays paint the sky in colors that inspire songs. The wind cuts through the trees strong enough to bring the loose leaves along for the ride, and carry with them the howls of the animals that use the grounds for more than passing through. Amongst this tranquil scene War's vibrant blue hair stands out as it bellows in the wind while she stands pensive on the roof of the stone structure. Her gaze is unfocused as she takes in the free air denied to her for so many years, until a hawk caws from above and her gaze is drawn to the creature as if she was a sniper locking her target in her sights.
She shakes her head and takes a deep breath, it was only a bird, nothing she need worry about, no this second main event held that honor. So long had she been fighting to prove her ability, that this match, against her sisters, held so much for the horsewoman. Her name sake, proof she wasn't just a lackey, a debt to be paid, and knowing if she manages to walk out on her own feet she'll be able to claim a feet no one else will ever. That she took the full force of Chaos, and stood tall after.
It was the gravity of such a match that had brought her out onto the roof, out to a place where a single misstep might cost her more time away from the ring. Not that she'd consider such a thing, but the danger brought her cluttered mind clarity. Never before has she had to deal with such voluntary pressure, she could run, fall, sit soundly in a private residence as a case study, but she chose this match, this lifestyle, this war. And looming over her is the idea that she is a minnow in an ocean of sharks.
As the wind swirls around her, Joanna lets out a heavy sigh while closing her eyes. She doesn't need to see with Hephty standing hammer down between her boot clad feet and tight jean covered legs. The air brings with it memories of when she was first released and as short of a time that was, it brought a shiver down her spine. Her crooked grin appears on her face and the glee, and joy of freedom spreads from her very being as she stretches her arms and back. Her corset presses deep into her ribs pulling a primal moan of pleasure before the whole moment shatters with the click of the doorknob turning.
Tensing from the sound, Joanna's hands instantly go to the hilt of her hammer, just in case she need silence or halt an interruption. “Ah there you are. Rather odd to find you in such a serene scene. No blood, no sexual tension. I must say I am sorry to interrupt Cyluna.” Shields steps out from the roof access stair well and greets his patient before she attempts to impale the door with her hammer to guarantee her solitude.
The Visionary rolls her eyes and releases her grip on the warhammer that was her instrument of carnage. “What do you want Shields? I’m not in the mood for head shrinking and our appointment isn’t until tomorrow. I thought you liked me taking time to enjoy the small things after all, shows I’m improving right?” As Joanna speaks Shields’ head perks up, her voice wasn’t hard or toxic. It was soft, approachable, and almost normal. The pensive nature of War’s tone is a surprise to her therapist.
As he crosses the roof Shields’ nods and smiles to himself before answering the deranged woman’s questions. “I came to tell you that in my professional opinion, you are insane.” His words are flat, but not cold, and as Joanna snickers he cuts her off before she is able to make a quip back about how much that should already be apparent. “Not in the sense you need to be locked up again. No, love, you have proven an enigma for me as of late. I keep wondering if you truly are insane or if the people that want you committed are. I mean that challenging your fellow Horsewomen is crazy. In one on one competition you might hold your own against them, but three unstable, uninhibited, pillars of violence at the same time? Impossible.” Shields sighs as he shakes his head weighing the options. No outcome looks favorable for Joanna, yet she chose this, she asked for it even, was she crazy, or just a masochist, the options flood the psychiatrist's mind as he looks upon the woman that played him to buy her freedom.
War on the other hand, is all smiles and even giggles a bit as Shields claims the task she faces is impossible. “Oh Opeare, you misunderstand why I wanted this if you have such an illusion that I’m merely wanting to test how I stack up in terms of strength. No, this is about me fixing the rift I created. Talon and Fury may be strong but they are not meant to be the team of the group. Their styles are too opposed to be united so regularly. Everyone has their strength, Emma with her stranglehold of a person’s mind, Talon with her ability to control her fury and channel it to physically crush someone into begging for the end, then Katalina and her ability to turn a being’s greatest desire into their worst nightmare. Each as a skill, a focus, that allows them to embody their Horsewomen name. I on the other hand failed my name by forgetting the rules of engagement in order to send Constance home, defeated. I forgot that in war there are consequences, casualties, and caution.” Joanna’s words may be flying out of her mouth quickly but her tone is still soft.
Looking at this patient, Shields cannot manage to hide the pride in his eyes, fortunately for him though Joanna has no intention of looking his way. She is too caught up in her explanation to pay him any attention other than her presence. Her body shakes with emotion as she evaluates her place in the group, her name, her very nature that the last four weeks have given her time to reflect upon her actions. “I am War, I’m not a skirmish, I’m not a single battle, I’m a whole DAMN WAR SHIELDS. Not someone that gets tripped up over foolish mistakes, I came up with a way out of a max security asylum, I got away with murder, and something as small as tv ratings are tripping me up? No, I need to show my sisters just how much I understand our purpose. I need to make this right, I actually feel bad for the damage I’ve done to the Horsewomen.”
Listening to Joanna pour her heart out to the wind, Shields nods his approval. The light is fading beyond the trees yet the wind seems to have strengthen its efforts to cover Joanna in a veil of her own hair. Taking a moment to soak in the words War has just finished shouting and whispering Shields listens to the emptiness that falls upon the dusk painting of the world. A small sniffle breaks the silence and Shields’ head snaps to the side to see Joanna fighting back tears. “Now this is a breakthrough Cyluna. Why has it taken you to admit to feelings of a nondestructive nature? Sure you love Emma, but how far and if you were capable were still questions to be tested. Use these feelings Joanna, they are natural, and show just how far you’ve come.” Shields words countain added weight and softness as he places his left hand on her shoulder. Joanna shies away from the touch against her exposed skin.
Shaking her head Joanna turns to face her therapist and the color fades from Shields’ face. Before him with the final light of the day dipping below the treeline, stands a being he has never met. Her eyes aren’t crazed, her muscles aren’t tensed and ready to for the always possible fight. Before him stood a blue haired vixen with the fires of war in her eyes, her body calm but he didn’t feel safe, and the smile might have been familiar but it was completely different. “Trust me Shields,” her lips mouth as he feels the same shiver down his spin as when they met over a year ago. “I plan to use every fiber of my being to show the world that War has come to VoW, and my sisters, my precious sisters, will be the first test” Before he can protest Joanna puts a finger on Shields’ lips and looks over the edge, a slight smile plays at the corners of her mouth.
With a quick lick of her lips, Joanna turns back to Shields, “Don’t fall, I’ve got work to do, and a toy to break.” In a similar flash of movement that had prevented Shields’ rebuttal, Joanna replaces her finger with her lips before grabbing Hephty and flooring the shocked man onto the ceiling with her mallet at his throat. “Tip them off, and you might find yourself without a tip of your own.” War’s words had no sense or glee that would usually accompany such a pun filled threat, instead she delivers them with a firm and unyielding manner that put the final nail in the coffin of Shields new analyse. Joanna had given herself over to the visage of war she thinks she’s meant to embody, and that brought more questions than answers.
As Shields lays on the roof with Hephty laying on his larynx Joanna marches back to the door, letting each step echo into Shields’ ears as the new moon raises in the dark sky. Her shadow growing with each click of her boots until she stood by the door, with the sole source of light aside the stars, a giant in her presence. “I’ll want my hammer back, when you’re done reflecting on what I’ve told you.” Her worlds are cold, her eyes only shift to the light before a small spark of inspiration hits the Horsewoman. “Here I leave you, the red rider I was always meant to be, staring at the false light of society, basking in the light of a new cycle, Seems a rebirth was needed, but will it be for the better, we’ll find out won’t me shrink? I’ll ride forward and face whatever Chaos has planned for me, you lay there and consider what it is to be.”
As she finishes her cryptic parting message to Shields, Joanna steps into the building and slams the door behind her, leaving the Oxford grad alone in the night. Moments pass and Shields considers the pros and cons of what has happened before the light above the door begins to hum and flicker. “No way.” Shields whispers before the light goes out with a loud pop. Alone in the dark with only the stars, and Joanna’s hammer, to keep him company, the therapist reflects on the metaphor that his patient may have just foreshadowed.
In the halls of the Chosen compound you can find anything one would need to become a better person, a better follower of Chaos, a better fighter, cook, designer. Anything you could think of there was a way to help, yet as Joanna marches her way through the only sound is her feet on the stone floors. Having just been a witness to the end of the day Joanna was pleasantly surprised. Her purpose lays before her as she lets her steps echo through the compound while she descends deeper into the compound. Each floor brings an eeriness that was the driving force for Shields to seek out the Warchild. She, however, embraces it, the offness, the solitude, things she knew, a stillness that is beyond familiar to the Horsewoman. Musing to herself Joanna dances through the compound on her way to the door only three people hold the key to.
Beneath the training halls, the rooms and rooms of living space, the massive kitchen, even Joanna’s therapy room. On the very bottom, where nothing is natural, Joanna approaches a special door that contains exactly what she is looking for. Taking in a deep breath, the blue haired visionary basks in the sobs that echo from behind the door. Down here all sound lasts for an eternity until it’s, usual sole, occupant either makes more or absorbs it. It is a prison for the mind more than the body that the steel doors serve as the only relief from the cold concrete that surrounds Joanna’s pet project. Giggling pours forth from the Warchild until the echo silences her and her face takes on the look that would be more common with an adolescent that just found a new favorite sound.
Her echo results in a snarl bellowing from behind the door. Shaking her head at the sorry attempt Joanna cackles until the other voice is completely drowned out. Throwing her head back, Joanna places the back of her left hand against her forehead as the sound bounces around her, assaulting her ears, yet seems all too pleased with herself. Before the echoes die away Joanna speaks from her doubled over position, “Oh Devi, Mistress is here, and it’s time we make use of your hanging carcass.”
The shriek of primal fear that follows Joanna’s hauntingly glee filled words could raise the dead, if the sound wasn’t trapped in this lowest floor. Standing to her full height Joanna takes the key from one of the many tiny pockets on her corset and throws open the door, flooding the room with artificial light and blinding it’s prisoner, as the Warchild stood there, a shadow against the industrial lie. “Well, well, seems you’ve been tortured, can’t blame such a mishandled Doll for seeking revenge, but I’m here Devi. War is here to offer you a way out.” Joanna speaks in a mocking tone as she looks upon the creature that was once a gothic vision of transexual beauty.
Devi, a former lover of Joanna’s and Doll’s kidnapper, hangs in the center of the room with her hands shackled above her head to hold her in place. The once chiseled muscle of the transsexual has clearly vanished and only skin and bone keep, the poor excuse for a human, in one piece. Her usually pixie cut hair reaches all the way to her exposed butt, and her face, the face Joanna had always refused to harm, resembles the skulls on Joanna’s boots more than a person. Devi had become a ghost of her former self, yet as Joanna steps down toward the creature, her crooked grin was unmistakable. Devi pulls on her restraints to get away while trying to scream, but her lungs cannot produce the sound as they had before, too weak from her first death waking performance.
Joanna bites her lips with a small flutter of her eyelashes as she grabs the chains and drags Devi to back to her. Joanna, being in the best shape of her life, has no trouble yanking the malnourished and weakened creature into a one arm hug. “Now, now, don’t fuss, I’m here to help Devi. Take in War’s scent, listen to my voice, let my glow wrap around and support you.” Her words are barely a whisper, but the charm, and coaxing nature are too much for Devi as Joanna holds her in place, letting her long hair and shoulder fill Devi’s nose with her scent. Joanna knew the promise of compassion was all the tortured being would need, false promises had already broken it, Doll had seen to that, and now Joanna merely needs to be the savior she believes she is.
Holding the woman against her, Joanna could feel Devi rubbing her cheeks against War’s soft skin, earning a sadistic smile from the Horsewoman. Reaching around the creature Joanna runs her hands through the long hair that was unfamiliar before pulling away just enough to look Devi in the eye. Unleashing the full transfixing effect she knew she possesses, Joanna looks past the pain, past the fear, and into Devi’s soul that is on full display in her pupils. “There’s my pet, I know why you did what you did, and even though you were wrong, I can use such loyalty. Devi, I’m about to take on my sisters and I want to win. You can help but only if you swear yourself to me as you once did, and promise to honor my wishes, not what you think my wishes are. Understood?” The kiss to the creature’s forehead that follows the gentle, hope filled, words of the Warchild, compares to a mother’s protective and loving kiss to their child. Devi, after suffering months of torment, is too broken to hear the underlying glee Joanna’s voice contains as she enslaves the transsexual.
Devi looks back at the Warchild and the void in the center of her eyes begins to brighten. Slowly as Joanna’s words feed the darkness and loneliness inside the prisoner the twinkle of life and hope appears before Devi moves her mouth, only no sound comes out. Snickering at the complete destruction of her former pet, Joanna lifts her chin, “Here let me help,” she coos, lowering her lips and pressing them against the chapped lips of Devi. Joanna wastes no time in forcing her dominance over Devi in a small but passionate kiss, using her tongue to give Devi some liquid to help her vocal cords.
A moan escapes Devi, until Joanna pulls away and blindsides Devi with a firm left hand slap. Devi spins completely around as her legs give out and the chain pulls at her shoulder sockets, keeping her in front of the Horsewoman that grabs Devi by the throat and leans in so her lips are only a breath away from her pet’s ear. “You will behave, you will listen, you are mine, Devi. You do not belong even to yourself. Nod.” Gone are the soft words, gone is the charm and promise of salvation, instead Joanna is unmoving, uncompromising, commanding Devi about how things will be.
The creatures nods, knowing how lost she is, and that without Joanna her fate is as locked as the door that she had been trapped behind for so long. Devi feels the burn of Joanna’s slap begin to spread causing her to open her mouth and stretch her jaw, which turns out to be a bad move. Joanna grabs Devi’s mandible and upper jaw with separate hands and wrenches back so that she can see down Devi’s mouth. A small squeak escapes her pet, but Joanna doesn’t care as she lowers Devi’s head to that she again looks into the creature’s soul.
Another victim finds themselves on the receiving end of the fires of War that exist behind Joanna’s piercing green eyes. Devi’s eyes show the panic as she and Joanna stare down, while Joanna’s show her pleasure of the power, and control she had in this small aspect of her life. “Devi, you will serve as my reminder of what I am. Power, chaotic control, reborn, resilient, and a true beast. Understand I’ll bring you back from this edge of death, but you belong to me. I will train against you with no restraints, you will bleed, you will bruise, and you will suffer. But fresh air, clothes, and adequate food will be your boons. You will speak to no one of this, not Goldie, not Doll.” Joanna releases her grip and turns away from Devi, letting her recover from the domination.
Without missing a beat Joanna continues her speech with her back to Devi, each statement holds more conviction than the last. “I don’t care what they do to you, I don’t care if your lovely cock is cut off, I don’t care if they use my pet for their own devices, if you mention my promise to you, our contract.” Joanna pauses at the door and turns so Devi can see her stone face. There is no emotion, no give, no spark of light. Joanna’s face is stern and as cold as Emma’s was in this room. “You squeal, and you end your usefulness. I will remove what sanity is left, before sending you off to Toad Road, with a letter to my former tormentors to use you as they used me. Understand, you serve War, or war will become your whole existence.” Joanna doesn’t wait for a response and instead slams the door shut, leaving Devi alone in the dark to consider her new fate, while Joanna walks away from the cell, her mind consumed with all she has before her. The battle with her sisters was ever approaching, and even with Emma waiting for her, Joanna is inspired to write. War needs to vent in such a way only ink and paper can allow.
Dear Journal and my sisters,
I shall not waste time or bore you this entry. I know Journal what a shock. But my reason being, I live with you all. I spend my time around you that the need to unload my mind in a way that doesn’t hold me back is unnecessary. Yes Journal, you are my most trusted possession, and the only medium I can fully utilize.
Now you may be asking yourselves “Why even bother with the Journal entry? Why not just tell us?” And to that I say, I’m not strong enough. No, Journal don’t start, let me bare my twisted mind and then you can comment. I am War, you are my sisters Death, Fury, and Strife. Together the world is ours, together we are a force unlike any other. And that is not something I take lightly. I’ve never had sisters, or a family, and you three, as damaged, deranged, twisted, crazed, and disturbed as I am, accept me. That is something I cannot understand.
And that is the reason I must serve my penance. I will not, and refuse to, be the reason our ride fails. If unity is what we need, direction, a common goal, whatever it is I will provide it. These weeks off showed me what weaknesses we have, what holes our defenses hold. We all have them, but we have been blinded by our power to see it.
I was the first. Taking the bibliophile out in such a way that I was removed, because I didn’t believe I could do such a thing without my tools. Sky ripped me away before any traction could be gained as a result. Then Death faltered against a targeted enemy, because I couldn’t stand not to be at her side. I know it wasn’t completely me, but that doesn’t change the results. Then Strife and Fury fail in a tag match because of mistakes I foresaw but didn’t say because of our limited time together and second guessing myself after what happened to Death. Doubt, my sisters, doubt spiraled a chain of events and we can’t afford to have it control us again.
That is why I challenged you all. I cost us such victory, and I may have stood tall in that ring declaring my intentions, but I still doubt. I doubt my place as War, after all I let a single skirmish cost us more important battles, and would have strengthen our efforts in this ride of Chaos. I am the red rider that cared more for my own bloodlust than the good of the group. These flaws are not easily fixed, and even if you say words that cleanse me, I won’t accept it until I’ve paid the price I demand of everyone, blood, and only my own will suffice.
Really Journal? Three paragraphs is too much for you to keep quiet? I said save your comments for when I finish. No, I’m not throwing a pity party, I’m explaining why I must use you instead of other mediums. Oh you’re flattered and yet calling me a whiny bitch? I’ll burn you, yes I will, Journal! Fine, I’ll move on but it’ll cost you pages, and I’ll rip them out nice and slow so it hurts.
To Fury. I’ve known you the least, and while I can’t wait to work alongside such a being of Chaos, you I expect the most from this week. We have no rapport, no history, and thus you should have no issue beating the doubt out of me. I know you can control your rage, don’t, I need to be woken up in our match and only you may drive me to that limit physically. It should have been me this last week with you, and for that I’m sorry. Let your strikes test the armor, the resolve, of your sister War, and may you and I raise hell together afterwards.
To Strife. We never fought directly, but through Candicane and Cherrypop, we have a history. And while we tease and dance around the tension that people with our respective addictions crave, I know you’ve already forgiven me. You see no point to this contest as it can only end badly. Either I suffer enough punishment I can’t stand, or I hurt those I’m suppose to be asking forgiveness from. It’s okay, believe me Strife, you should know sometimes fighting is the best way to resolve things. Don’t hold back my dear Strife, and when it’s over you can forgive and punish me in your own way. I can, and will, look forward to taking all you can give and more.
To my Golden Death Princess. You and I have traveled a funny road only the two of us could. From a first blood match announcement, to a Greek proposal, yes Journal I know I’m blushing just thinking how silly I was. Could you imagine me in white? Gah, and sooo much fabric, I’d rather be in ring gear, but I’m losing myself Journal. Bad, don’t distract me from Goldie like that. Ah, to uniting in one promotion, to finding a new home and finishing the compound, to VoW. To say it’s been wild wouldn’t do it justice. But my love, that doesn’t mean you get to hold back, not that you would. No, you understand, you know why I asked for this, you know what I want. I would be lost without you Emma, yes Emma. When I’m on my knees, asking for that crisp cold slap, I know what people will see, and what I will. The crowd will be confused, as they watch lovers hurt each other, and with each strike they will become less at ease. We will show that Chaos truly shows no favorites. But I’ll look in your eyes, and see what I do every night. The hunger of my lover, the desire to be understood, to be matched, to have an equal. So that the darkness that we fight against isn’t as dark. Hit me Emma, express the pain I’ve caused you over this month, show me the woman I fell in love with, the woman that split me open, rebuilt me, and completes me.
Thank you Journal, yes I know it was sappy, but I’m honest. As I always have been, I refuse to hide behind my pride or a societal standard like a good sheep. I’m a Horsewoman, and we do not tolerate falsehoods. We may not see the world the same as everyone else, Journal, but it is because of this that we can peel back the the lies, the indoctrination, the brainwashing that enslaves the masses. My blood, my penance this next Breakthrough will serve as a message. Learn from your past mistakes and face them head on. Don’t hide in the shadows and hope they go away, embrace them before moving on.
Four Horsewomen ride into Breakthrough, four ride out. But everything changes Journal. Everything.
Clang...Clang...Clang.
The sound of metal hitting metal echos through the slowly focusing video feed. The flames in the background make it difficult for the camera to adjust to the right brightness. It’s late in the evening, a small sliver of the moon illuminates the scene placed before the camera. War, with a smaller hammer than usual in hand, banging out a piece of molten metal on an anvil. The fires of a forge glow behind her and warm her exposed skin. The Red rider wasn’t clad as one would expect someone working in a forge to be. Yes, she had gloves, a welding mask and an apron that went from her chest down to her calves, but that was it. Nothing more than what she needs touches her skin as the metal bends to her will.
With each clang of her hammer striking a name could be heard from the focused Warchild. “Emma,” clang, “Talon,” clang, “Katalina,” clang, “Joanna,” clang, “Death,” clang, “Fury,” clang, “Strife,” clang, “War,” crunch. The last strike is too much and the piece Joanna is shaping splinters and falls around the anvil. The helmeted head of the Visionary hangs lower for a brief moment before she reaches up and pulls off the mask. Joanna’s face isn’t full of anger at the unexpected break, in fact she seems calm when most would be frustrated.
“Luca, thank you for making it out here. But I think my smithing is far from film worthy.” Her words are lighthearted and a smile plays at her face only to grow as the sound of hoofbeats fills the speakers.
“It’s okay, it took me some time since I thought your friend needed some time out.” Luca’s voice calls from behind the camera that captures Joanna as she grabs the beast’s mane and launches herself onto its saddle-less back as it digs its hooves into the ground and stops mere feet from Luca.
“Athena, you scoundrel.” Joanna cheers rubbing the neck of the massive mare that wastes no time exploring the forge her mistress had just been tending to. Athena was pure white except her hooves which were a soft gray. Stirring the beast with nothing more than a few twitches of her knees Joanna looks like a child upon such a massive creature. Embodying the idea of a Warhorse Athena did as her rider demands. After a quick venture through the forge slowly approaches Luca, who takes the opportunity to zoom in and let steed and rider take up the entire frame, both beautiful and mostly naked.
Taking in the moment Joanna breaks the silence, with a tone that takes the lighthearted joy of what was just witnessed and crushes it under the weight of her emotions. “Our first ride together approaches, girl, and we face our kin. They will most certainly see this, after all, none of us can afford to underestimate the each other. So Athena, Luca, walk with me and I will explain why this small skirmish was demanded by War.”
Athena’s nostrils flare as she walks in front of the camera. Joanna merely looks above at the moon, trusting her steed completely and expecting Luca to keep up, whatever else she thinks, no one dare speculate. “Emma certainly doesn’t waste time. Calling out my motives in a way only she can. More than penance, yes, a test, always, but elaborate enough to be as devious as she makes me out to? Never. No, my dear Princess, you give me too much credit. I want a reminder, a reminder of what we are capable of.” Joanna looks back at the compound as it becomes smaller and smaller. Luca zooms in on War upon Athena and the image is striking.
A forest of green transfixes all that look upon her hard face. The light of the moon dances through the strands of her hair giving her a blue glow. The pale skin that is a result of years in captivity is scarred and bruised, some from training, some from those same years. With each echoing hoof beat, Joanna adjust seamlessly in the grove of Athena’s back, never losing control or her grip as they walk away from the compound in the moonlight.
“The sounds Fury makes as she trains tells me that an ice bath might need to be waiting for me. Either she read my note, or she respects me more than I would if I were her. A crazy criminal asking for a beat down? And yet a furious war shall be waged. Strife? Well she struggles with issues, so putting aside her emotions to get the job done should be easy. Whether or not she takes her time in the ring will be the real question. But not for Death. Death will charge War and the collision will be monstrous. So how does this provide the reminder I asked for?” Joanna asks hesitating only so an answer can be formed but not spoken. “Because we all have skills, strengths, talents, that we aren’t utilizing. We couldn’t. I took that away and while I plan to suffer, I also plan to teach.”
Her words are as deafening as the hoofbeats of all four horses at full gallop. Athena voices her agreement as Joanna continues speaking, letting the warm emotions of her plan saturate her words. “If I am to be War, I need to know what arenas are our weakness, and it cannot be each other. Too often infighting, deceit, doubt, and mistrust splinter great factions. Too often groups forget that a strong core is essential to win the war. Too often people fear upsetting the balance of their lives, friendships, or desires to truly find the truth of matters. WE are NO such beings. I challenged the three of you so that no matter what we all know what is important. We are Horsewomen, and we are the agents of change. We do not run, we do not hide, we ride forth and obliterate all that stand in our way. As a group we are unrivaled, as individuals we are mortal.”
“I know full well that I may not walk out of Dow Event Centre. But it doesn’t matter. If I fall before you three, I only hope you spend a message with it. ‘This is what we do to our sister, don’t cross us’ should be obvious but may be too far from your minds to consider. Fury with making sure she doesn’t go too far, Strife wondering if rumors will make her loyalty an issue, Death wondering how far she’ll have to go to achieve victory, and if she has changed as much as she claims. Questions I’d rather answer with my own flesh than on the battlefield when our enemies are gaining ground.” Joanna casts her head down and fights back a sniffle. Athena stops as her rider hunches forward and holds Athena’s mane with shaking hands. Joanna’s voice cracks as raw emotion pours out of her.
“I will be the bastion of our ride. The vessel that guards our weakness so that we may strike with absolute certainty. I will be the War you deserve, the general of the horsewomen that puts the ride before temporary pleasure. I failed you in the past my sisters whether you see it or not is none of my concern. I am not asking for pity, I’m asking for penance, and if by sheer will I best you my sisters, understand I do it to prove that it takes a Horsewoman to harness Chaos.” Feeling the conviction of her rider Athena rears back displaying her massive frame and raw power as she kicks the air. War holds on with ease and even breaks a smile as Athena shakes the ground with a thunderous stomp.
Petting her steed’s neck Joanna nods before using her teeth to double click and send Athena into a full gallop around Luca. “A Horsewoman that understands herself, her purpose, and her sisters! We all have goals, we all have a reason for choosing the lives we lead, free of the societal corruption that has infected the world. We are the bringers of change, of truth. We need not pursue gold, validation, accolades for they will fall at our feet. Tokens, of those afraid of our power! We’ve become lost my sisters, but through this penance I will receive my redemption while lighting the path ahead!”
A small nudge from Joanna causes Athena to buck right as the horse jumps over a fallen tree with a massive hole in its trunk. Taking to the air Joanna doesn’t hesitate to twist and let the air engulf her. Patting the ground Athena builds the suspense before Joanna grabs a branch and swings around it until her momentum fades. Laughter and neighing fill the air as the two partners enjoy their small show.
When she speaks again Joanna’s conviction is absolute and her words hold a power that had only ever been felt when Emma was in rare form. Dropping to the branch beneath her, War looks right into the camera as she unleashes her final thoughts. “Goldie, you questioned my motives well there they are! I plan to take everything you three can give and show that a true horsewoman will be able to dig deep inside themselves, find the power of her sisters, the power Chaos bestowed upon us, and will the result they desire. I’m not sure which is better, me being carried out and having served my penance, or me walking out having proven that I am not the same Joanna that was released from Toad Road. Either work for me, but regardless War comes to VoW on April 28th. The question is can even her sisters stop her, or is VoW about to become a bloodbath of change?!”
Joanna’s voice begins to climb in pitch as the familiar manic glee starts to grasp at the edge of her words. “Even I don’t know sisters! I simply don’t care either. Both serve the same purpose and put the locker room on notice. We are not like anything they’ve seen before let alone faced. And when focused on a single objective, we are a force of nature. You three may think you’re ready for war, but only one of us bares the name.”
Joanna drops from the tree only to have Athena walk up behind her. Rider and beast posed for the battle ahead, unblinking, unafraid, and most certainly prepared to leave everything in the ring. Joanna spreads her arms wide and as the scene fades, welcomes all that her sisters think is enough to break her. War is ready, willing, and begging for this collision.
She shakes her head and takes a deep breath, it was only a bird, nothing she need worry about, no this second main event held that honor. So long had she been fighting to prove her ability, that this match, against her sisters, held so much for the horsewoman. Her name sake, proof she wasn't just a lackey, a debt to be paid, and knowing if she manages to walk out on her own feet she'll be able to claim a feet no one else will ever. That she took the full force of Chaos, and stood tall after.
It was the gravity of such a match that had brought her out onto the roof, out to a place where a single misstep might cost her more time away from the ring. Not that she'd consider such a thing, but the danger brought her cluttered mind clarity. Never before has she had to deal with such voluntary pressure, she could run, fall, sit soundly in a private residence as a case study, but she chose this match, this lifestyle, this war. And looming over her is the idea that she is a minnow in an ocean of sharks.
As the wind swirls around her, Joanna lets out a heavy sigh while closing her eyes. She doesn't need to see with Hephty standing hammer down between her boot clad feet and tight jean covered legs. The air brings with it memories of when she was first released and as short of a time that was, it brought a shiver down her spine. Her crooked grin appears on her face and the glee, and joy of freedom spreads from her very being as she stretches her arms and back. Her corset presses deep into her ribs pulling a primal moan of pleasure before the whole moment shatters with the click of the doorknob turning.
Tensing from the sound, Joanna's hands instantly go to the hilt of her hammer, just in case she need silence or halt an interruption. “Ah there you are. Rather odd to find you in such a serene scene. No blood, no sexual tension. I must say I am sorry to interrupt Cyluna.” Shields steps out from the roof access stair well and greets his patient before she attempts to impale the door with her hammer to guarantee her solitude.
The Visionary rolls her eyes and releases her grip on the warhammer that was her instrument of carnage. “What do you want Shields? I’m not in the mood for head shrinking and our appointment isn’t until tomorrow. I thought you liked me taking time to enjoy the small things after all, shows I’m improving right?” As Joanna speaks Shields’ head perks up, her voice wasn’t hard or toxic. It was soft, approachable, and almost normal. The pensive nature of War’s tone is a surprise to her therapist.
As he crosses the roof Shields’ nods and smiles to himself before answering the deranged woman’s questions. “I came to tell you that in my professional opinion, you are insane.” His words are flat, but not cold, and as Joanna snickers he cuts her off before she is able to make a quip back about how much that should already be apparent. “Not in the sense you need to be locked up again. No, love, you have proven an enigma for me as of late. I keep wondering if you truly are insane or if the people that want you committed are. I mean that challenging your fellow Horsewomen is crazy. In one on one competition you might hold your own against them, but three unstable, uninhibited, pillars of violence at the same time? Impossible.” Shields sighs as he shakes his head weighing the options. No outcome looks favorable for Joanna, yet she chose this, she asked for it even, was she crazy, or just a masochist, the options flood the psychiatrist's mind as he looks upon the woman that played him to buy her freedom.
War on the other hand, is all smiles and even giggles a bit as Shields claims the task she faces is impossible. “Oh Opeare, you misunderstand why I wanted this if you have such an illusion that I’m merely wanting to test how I stack up in terms of strength. No, this is about me fixing the rift I created. Talon and Fury may be strong but they are not meant to be the team of the group. Their styles are too opposed to be united so regularly. Everyone has their strength, Emma with her stranglehold of a person’s mind, Talon with her ability to control her fury and channel it to physically crush someone into begging for the end, then Katalina and her ability to turn a being’s greatest desire into their worst nightmare. Each as a skill, a focus, that allows them to embody their Horsewomen name. I on the other hand failed my name by forgetting the rules of engagement in order to send Constance home, defeated. I forgot that in war there are consequences, casualties, and caution.” Joanna’s words may be flying out of her mouth quickly but her tone is still soft.
Looking at this patient, Shields cannot manage to hide the pride in his eyes, fortunately for him though Joanna has no intention of looking his way. She is too caught up in her explanation to pay him any attention other than her presence. Her body shakes with emotion as she evaluates her place in the group, her name, her very nature that the last four weeks have given her time to reflect upon her actions. “I am War, I’m not a skirmish, I’m not a single battle, I’m a whole DAMN WAR SHIELDS. Not someone that gets tripped up over foolish mistakes, I came up with a way out of a max security asylum, I got away with murder, and something as small as tv ratings are tripping me up? No, I need to show my sisters just how much I understand our purpose. I need to make this right, I actually feel bad for the damage I’ve done to the Horsewomen.”
Listening to Joanna pour her heart out to the wind, Shields nods his approval. The light is fading beyond the trees yet the wind seems to have strengthen its efforts to cover Joanna in a veil of her own hair. Taking a moment to soak in the words War has just finished shouting and whispering Shields listens to the emptiness that falls upon the dusk painting of the world. A small sniffle breaks the silence and Shields’ head snaps to the side to see Joanna fighting back tears. “Now this is a breakthrough Cyluna. Why has it taken you to admit to feelings of a nondestructive nature? Sure you love Emma, but how far and if you were capable were still questions to be tested. Use these feelings Joanna, they are natural, and show just how far you’ve come.” Shields words countain added weight and softness as he places his left hand on her shoulder. Joanna shies away from the touch against her exposed skin.
Shaking her head Joanna turns to face her therapist and the color fades from Shields’ face. Before him with the final light of the day dipping below the treeline, stands a being he has never met. Her eyes aren’t crazed, her muscles aren’t tensed and ready to for the always possible fight. Before him stood a blue haired vixen with the fires of war in her eyes, her body calm but he didn’t feel safe, and the smile might have been familiar but it was completely different. “Trust me Shields,” her lips mouth as he feels the same shiver down his spin as when they met over a year ago. “I plan to use every fiber of my being to show the world that War has come to VoW, and my sisters, my precious sisters, will be the first test” Before he can protest Joanna puts a finger on Shields’ lips and looks over the edge, a slight smile plays at the corners of her mouth.
With a quick lick of her lips, Joanna turns back to Shields, “Don’t fall, I’ve got work to do, and a toy to break.” In a similar flash of movement that had prevented Shields’ rebuttal, Joanna replaces her finger with her lips before grabbing Hephty and flooring the shocked man onto the ceiling with her mallet at his throat. “Tip them off, and you might find yourself without a tip of your own.” War’s words had no sense or glee that would usually accompany such a pun filled threat, instead she delivers them with a firm and unyielding manner that put the final nail in the coffin of Shields new analyse. Joanna had given herself over to the visage of war she thinks she’s meant to embody, and that brought more questions than answers.
As Shields lays on the roof with Hephty laying on his larynx Joanna marches back to the door, letting each step echo into Shields’ ears as the new moon raises in the dark sky. Her shadow growing with each click of her boots until she stood by the door, with the sole source of light aside the stars, a giant in her presence. “I’ll want my hammer back, when you’re done reflecting on what I’ve told you.” Her worlds are cold, her eyes only shift to the light before a small spark of inspiration hits the Horsewoman. “Here I leave you, the red rider I was always meant to be, staring at the false light of society, basking in the light of a new cycle, Seems a rebirth was needed, but will it be for the better, we’ll find out won’t me shrink? I’ll ride forward and face whatever Chaos has planned for me, you lay there and consider what it is to be.”
As she finishes her cryptic parting message to Shields, Joanna steps into the building and slams the door behind her, leaving the Oxford grad alone in the night. Moments pass and Shields considers the pros and cons of what has happened before the light above the door begins to hum and flicker. “No way.” Shields whispers before the light goes out with a loud pop. Alone in the dark with only the stars, and Joanna’s hammer, to keep him company, the therapist reflects on the metaphor that his patient may have just foreshadowed.
In the halls of the Chosen compound you can find anything one would need to become a better person, a better follower of Chaos, a better fighter, cook, designer. Anything you could think of there was a way to help, yet as Joanna marches her way through the only sound is her feet on the stone floors. Having just been a witness to the end of the day Joanna was pleasantly surprised. Her purpose lays before her as she lets her steps echo through the compound while she descends deeper into the compound. Each floor brings an eeriness that was the driving force for Shields to seek out the Warchild. She, however, embraces it, the offness, the solitude, things she knew, a stillness that is beyond familiar to the Horsewoman. Musing to herself Joanna dances through the compound on her way to the door only three people hold the key to.
Beneath the training halls, the rooms and rooms of living space, the massive kitchen, even Joanna’s therapy room. On the very bottom, where nothing is natural, Joanna approaches a special door that contains exactly what she is looking for. Taking in a deep breath, the blue haired visionary basks in the sobs that echo from behind the door. Down here all sound lasts for an eternity until it’s, usual sole, occupant either makes more or absorbs it. It is a prison for the mind more than the body that the steel doors serve as the only relief from the cold concrete that surrounds Joanna’s pet project. Giggling pours forth from the Warchild until the echo silences her and her face takes on the look that would be more common with an adolescent that just found a new favorite sound.
Her echo results in a snarl bellowing from behind the door. Shaking her head at the sorry attempt Joanna cackles until the other voice is completely drowned out. Throwing her head back, Joanna places the back of her left hand against her forehead as the sound bounces around her, assaulting her ears, yet seems all too pleased with herself. Before the echoes die away Joanna speaks from her doubled over position, “Oh Devi, Mistress is here, and it’s time we make use of your hanging carcass.”
The shriek of primal fear that follows Joanna’s hauntingly glee filled words could raise the dead, if the sound wasn’t trapped in this lowest floor. Standing to her full height Joanna takes the key from one of the many tiny pockets on her corset and throws open the door, flooding the room with artificial light and blinding it’s prisoner, as the Warchild stood there, a shadow against the industrial lie. “Well, well, seems you’ve been tortured, can’t blame such a mishandled Doll for seeking revenge, but I’m here Devi. War is here to offer you a way out.” Joanna speaks in a mocking tone as she looks upon the creature that was once a gothic vision of transexual beauty.
Devi, a former lover of Joanna’s and Doll’s kidnapper, hangs in the center of the room with her hands shackled above her head to hold her in place. The once chiseled muscle of the transsexual has clearly vanished and only skin and bone keep, the poor excuse for a human, in one piece. Her usually pixie cut hair reaches all the way to her exposed butt, and her face, the face Joanna had always refused to harm, resembles the skulls on Joanna’s boots more than a person. Devi had become a ghost of her former self, yet as Joanna steps down toward the creature, her crooked grin was unmistakable. Devi pulls on her restraints to get away while trying to scream, but her lungs cannot produce the sound as they had before, too weak from her first death waking performance.
Joanna bites her lips with a small flutter of her eyelashes as she grabs the chains and drags Devi to back to her. Joanna, being in the best shape of her life, has no trouble yanking the malnourished and weakened creature into a one arm hug. “Now, now, don’t fuss, I’m here to help Devi. Take in War’s scent, listen to my voice, let my glow wrap around and support you.” Her words are barely a whisper, but the charm, and coaxing nature are too much for Devi as Joanna holds her in place, letting her long hair and shoulder fill Devi’s nose with her scent. Joanna knew the promise of compassion was all the tortured being would need, false promises had already broken it, Doll had seen to that, and now Joanna merely needs to be the savior she believes she is.
Holding the woman against her, Joanna could feel Devi rubbing her cheeks against War’s soft skin, earning a sadistic smile from the Horsewoman. Reaching around the creature Joanna runs her hands through the long hair that was unfamiliar before pulling away just enough to look Devi in the eye. Unleashing the full transfixing effect she knew she possesses, Joanna looks past the pain, past the fear, and into Devi’s soul that is on full display in her pupils. “There’s my pet, I know why you did what you did, and even though you were wrong, I can use such loyalty. Devi, I’m about to take on my sisters and I want to win. You can help but only if you swear yourself to me as you once did, and promise to honor my wishes, not what you think my wishes are. Understood?” The kiss to the creature’s forehead that follows the gentle, hope filled, words of the Warchild, compares to a mother’s protective and loving kiss to their child. Devi, after suffering months of torment, is too broken to hear the underlying glee Joanna’s voice contains as she enslaves the transsexual.
Devi looks back at the Warchild and the void in the center of her eyes begins to brighten. Slowly as Joanna’s words feed the darkness and loneliness inside the prisoner the twinkle of life and hope appears before Devi moves her mouth, only no sound comes out. Snickering at the complete destruction of her former pet, Joanna lifts her chin, “Here let me help,” she coos, lowering her lips and pressing them against the chapped lips of Devi. Joanna wastes no time in forcing her dominance over Devi in a small but passionate kiss, using her tongue to give Devi some liquid to help her vocal cords.
A moan escapes Devi, until Joanna pulls away and blindsides Devi with a firm left hand slap. Devi spins completely around as her legs give out and the chain pulls at her shoulder sockets, keeping her in front of the Horsewoman that grabs Devi by the throat and leans in so her lips are only a breath away from her pet’s ear. “You will behave, you will listen, you are mine, Devi. You do not belong even to yourself. Nod.” Gone are the soft words, gone is the charm and promise of salvation, instead Joanna is unmoving, uncompromising, commanding Devi about how things will be.
The creatures nods, knowing how lost she is, and that without Joanna her fate is as locked as the door that she had been trapped behind for so long. Devi feels the burn of Joanna’s slap begin to spread causing her to open her mouth and stretch her jaw, which turns out to be a bad move. Joanna grabs Devi’s mandible and upper jaw with separate hands and wrenches back so that she can see down Devi’s mouth. A small squeak escapes her pet, but Joanna doesn’t care as she lowers Devi’s head to that she again looks into the creature’s soul.
Another victim finds themselves on the receiving end of the fires of War that exist behind Joanna’s piercing green eyes. Devi’s eyes show the panic as she and Joanna stare down, while Joanna’s show her pleasure of the power, and control she had in this small aspect of her life. “Devi, you will serve as my reminder of what I am. Power, chaotic control, reborn, resilient, and a true beast. Understand I’ll bring you back from this edge of death, but you belong to me. I will train against you with no restraints, you will bleed, you will bruise, and you will suffer. But fresh air, clothes, and adequate food will be your boons. You will speak to no one of this, not Goldie, not Doll.” Joanna releases her grip and turns away from Devi, letting her recover from the domination.
Without missing a beat Joanna continues her speech with her back to Devi, each statement holds more conviction than the last. “I don’t care what they do to you, I don’t care if your lovely cock is cut off, I don’t care if they use my pet for their own devices, if you mention my promise to you, our contract.” Joanna pauses at the door and turns so Devi can see her stone face. There is no emotion, no give, no spark of light. Joanna’s face is stern and as cold as Emma’s was in this room. “You squeal, and you end your usefulness. I will remove what sanity is left, before sending you off to Toad Road, with a letter to my former tormentors to use you as they used me. Understand, you serve War, or war will become your whole existence.” Joanna doesn’t wait for a response and instead slams the door shut, leaving Devi alone in the dark to consider her new fate, while Joanna walks away from the cell, her mind consumed with all she has before her. The battle with her sisters was ever approaching, and even with Emma waiting for her, Joanna is inspired to write. War needs to vent in such a way only ink and paper can allow.
Dear Journal and my sisters,
I shall not waste time or bore you this entry. I know Journal what a shock. But my reason being, I live with you all. I spend my time around you that the need to unload my mind in a way that doesn’t hold me back is unnecessary. Yes Journal, you are my most trusted possession, and the only medium I can fully utilize.
Now you may be asking yourselves “Why even bother with the Journal entry? Why not just tell us?” And to that I say, I’m not strong enough. No, Journal don’t start, let me bare my twisted mind and then you can comment. I am War, you are my sisters Death, Fury, and Strife. Together the world is ours, together we are a force unlike any other. And that is not something I take lightly. I’ve never had sisters, or a family, and you three, as damaged, deranged, twisted, crazed, and disturbed as I am, accept me. That is something I cannot understand.
And that is the reason I must serve my penance. I will not, and refuse to, be the reason our ride fails. If unity is what we need, direction, a common goal, whatever it is I will provide it. These weeks off showed me what weaknesses we have, what holes our defenses hold. We all have them, but we have been blinded by our power to see it.
I was the first. Taking the bibliophile out in such a way that I was removed, because I didn’t believe I could do such a thing without my tools. Sky ripped me away before any traction could be gained as a result. Then Death faltered against a targeted enemy, because I couldn’t stand not to be at her side. I know it wasn’t completely me, but that doesn’t change the results. Then Strife and Fury fail in a tag match because of mistakes I foresaw but didn’t say because of our limited time together and second guessing myself after what happened to Death. Doubt, my sisters, doubt spiraled a chain of events and we can’t afford to have it control us again.
That is why I challenged you all. I cost us such victory, and I may have stood tall in that ring declaring my intentions, but I still doubt. I doubt my place as War, after all I let a single skirmish cost us more important battles, and would have strengthen our efforts in this ride of Chaos. I am the red rider that cared more for my own bloodlust than the good of the group. These flaws are not easily fixed, and even if you say words that cleanse me, I won’t accept it until I’ve paid the price I demand of everyone, blood, and only my own will suffice.
Really Journal? Three paragraphs is too much for you to keep quiet? I said save your comments for when I finish. No, I’m not throwing a pity party, I’m explaining why I must use you instead of other mediums. Oh you’re flattered and yet calling me a whiny bitch? I’ll burn you, yes I will, Journal! Fine, I’ll move on but it’ll cost you pages, and I’ll rip them out nice and slow so it hurts.
To Fury. I’ve known you the least, and while I can’t wait to work alongside such a being of Chaos, you I expect the most from this week. We have no rapport, no history, and thus you should have no issue beating the doubt out of me. I know you can control your rage, don’t, I need to be woken up in our match and only you may drive me to that limit physically. It should have been me this last week with you, and for that I’m sorry. Let your strikes test the armor, the resolve, of your sister War, and may you and I raise hell together afterwards.
To Strife. We never fought directly, but through Candicane and Cherrypop, we have a history. And while we tease and dance around the tension that people with our respective addictions crave, I know you’ve already forgiven me. You see no point to this contest as it can only end badly. Either I suffer enough punishment I can’t stand, or I hurt those I’m suppose to be asking forgiveness from. It’s okay, believe me Strife, you should know sometimes fighting is the best way to resolve things. Don’t hold back my dear Strife, and when it’s over you can forgive and punish me in your own way. I can, and will, look forward to taking all you can give and more.
To my Golden Death Princess. You and I have traveled a funny road only the two of us could. From a first blood match announcement, to a Greek proposal, yes Journal I know I’m blushing just thinking how silly I was. Could you imagine me in white? Gah, and sooo much fabric, I’d rather be in ring gear, but I’m losing myself Journal. Bad, don’t distract me from Goldie like that. Ah, to uniting in one promotion, to finding a new home and finishing the compound, to VoW. To say it’s been wild wouldn’t do it justice. But my love, that doesn’t mean you get to hold back, not that you would. No, you understand, you know why I asked for this, you know what I want. I would be lost without you Emma, yes Emma. When I’m on my knees, asking for that crisp cold slap, I know what people will see, and what I will. The crowd will be confused, as they watch lovers hurt each other, and with each strike they will become less at ease. We will show that Chaos truly shows no favorites. But I’ll look in your eyes, and see what I do every night. The hunger of my lover, the desire to be understood, to be matched, to have an equal. So that the darkness that we fight against isn’t as dark. Hit me Emma, express the pain I’ve caused you over this month, show me the woman I fell in love with, the woman that split me open, rebuilt me, and completes me.
Thank you Journal, yes I know it was sappy, but I’m honest. As I always have been, I refuse to hide behind my pride or a societal standard like a good sheep. I’m a Horsewoman, and we do not tolerate falsehoods. We may not see the world the same as everyone else, Journal, but it is because of this that we can peel back the the lies, the indoctrination, the brainwashing that enslaves the masses. My blood, my penance this next Breakthrough will serve as a message. Learn from your past mistakes and face them head on. Don’t hide in the shadows and hope they go away, embrace them before moving on.
Four Horsewomen ride into Breakthrough, four ride out. But everything changes Journal. Everything.
Clang...Clang...Clang.
The sound of metal hitting metal echos through the slowly focusing video feed. The flames in the background make it difficult for the camera to adjust to the right brightness. It’s late in the evening, a small sliver of the moon illuminates the scene placed before the camera. War, with a smaller hammer than usual in hand, banging out a piece of molten metal on an anvil. The fires of a forge glow behind her and warm her exposed skin. The Red rider wasn’t clad as one would expect someone working in a forge to be. Yes, she had gloves, a welding mask and an apron that went from her chest down to her calves, but that was it. Nothing more than what she needs touches her skin as the metal bends to her will.
With each clang of her hammer striking a name could be heard from the focused Warchild. “Emma,” clang, “Talon,” clang, “Katalina,” clang, “Joanna,” clang, “Death,” clang, “Fury,” clang, “Strife,” clang, “War,” crunch. The last strike is too much and the piece Joanna is shaping splinters and falls around the anvil. The helmeted head of the Visionary hangs lower for a brief moment before she reaches up and pulls off the mask. Joanna’s face isn’t full of anger at the unexpected break, in fact she seems calm when most would be frustrated.
“Luca, thank you for making it out here. But I think my smithing is far from film worthy.” Her words are lighthearted and a smile plays at her face only to grow as the sound of hoofbeats fills the speakers.
“It’s okay, it took me some time since I thought your friend needed some time out.” Luca’s voice calls from behind the camera that captures Joanna as she grabs the beast’s mane and launches herself onto its saddle-less back as it digs its hooves into the ground and stops mere feet from Luca.
“Athena, you scoundrel.” Joanna cheers rubbing the neck of the massive mare that wastes no time exploring the forge her mistress had just been tending to. Athena was pure white except her hooves which were a soft gray. Stirring the beast with nothing more than a few twitches of her knees Joanna looks like a child upon such a massive creature. Embodying the idea of a Warhorse Athena did as her rider demands. After a quick venture through the forge slowly approaches Luca, who takes the opportunity to zoom in and let steed and rider take up the entire frame, both beautiful and mostly naked.
Taking in the moment Joanna breaks the silence, with a tone that takes the lighthearted joy of what was just witnessed and crushes it under the weight of her emotions. “Our first ride together approaches, girl, and we face our kin. They will most certainly see this, after all, none of us can afford to underestimate the each other. So Athena, Luca, walk with me and I will explain why this small skirmish was demanded by War.”
Athena’s nostrils flare as she walks in front of the camera. Joanna merely looks above at the moon, trusting her steed completely and expecting Luca to keep up, whatever else she thinks, no one dare speculate. “Emma certainly doesn’t waste time. Calling out my motives in a way only she can. More than penance, yes, a test, always, but elaborate enough to be as devious as she makes me out to? Never. No, my dear Princess, you give me too much credit. I want a reminder, a reminder of what we are capable of.” Joanna looks back at the compound as it becomes smaller and smaller. Luca zooms in on War upon Athena and the image is striking.
A forest of green transfixes all that look upon her hard face. The light of the moon dances through the strands of her hair giving her a blue glow. The pale skin that is a result of years in captivity is scarred and bruised, some from training, some from those same years. With each echoing hoof beat, Joanna adjust seamlessly in the grove of Athena’s back, never losing control or her grip as they walk away from the compound in the moonlight.
“The sounds Fury makes as she trains tells me that an ice bath might need to be waiting for me. Either she read my note, or she respects me more than I would if I were her. A crazy criminal asking for a beat down? And yet a furious war shall be waged. Strife? Well she struggles with issues, so putting aside her emotions to get the job done should be easy. Whether or not she takes her time in the ring will be the real question. But not for Death. Death will charge War and the collision will be monstrous. So how does this provide the reminder I asked for?” Joanna asks hesitating only so an answer can be formed but not spoken. “Because we all have skills, strengths, talents, that we aren’t utilizing. We couldn’t. I took that away and while I plan to suffer, I also plan to teach.”
Her words are as deafening as the hoofbeats of all four horses at full gallop. Athena voices her agreement as Joanna continues speaking, letting the warm emotions of her plan saturate her words. “If I am to be War, I need to know what arenas are our weakness, and it cannot be each other. Too often infighting, deceit, doubt, and mistrust splinter great factions. Too often groups forget that a strong core is essential to win the war. Too often people fear upsetting the balance of their lives, friendships, or desires to truly find the truth of matters. WE are NO such beings. I challenged the three of you so that no matter what we all know what is important. We are Horsewomen, and we are the agents of change. We do not run, we do not hide, we ride forth and obliterate all that stand in our way. As a group we are unrivaled, as individuals we are mortal.”
“I know full well that I may not walk out of Dow Event Centre. But it doesn’t matter. If I fall before you three, I only hope you spend a message with it. ‘This is what we do to our sister, don’t cross us’ should be obvious but may be too far from your minds to consider. Fury with making sure she doesn’t go too far, Strife wondering if rumors will make her loyalty an issue, Death wondering how far she’ll have to go to achieve victory, and if she has changed as much as she claims. Questions I’d rather answer with my own flesh than on the battlefield when our enemies are gaining ground.” Joanna casts her head down and fights back a sniffle. Athena stops as her rider hunches forward and holds Athena’s mane with shaking hands. Joanna’s voice cracks as raw emotion pours out of her.
“I will be the bastion of our ride. The vessel that guards our weakness so that we may strike with absolute certainty. I will be the War you deserve, the general of the horsewomen that puts the ride before temporary pleasure. I failed you in the past my sisters whether you see it or not is none of my concern. I am not asking for pity, I’m asking for penance, and if by sheer will I best you my sisters, understand I do it to prove that it takes a Horsewoman to harness Chaos.” Feeling the conviction of her rider Athena rears back displaying her massive frame and raw power as she kicks the air. War holds on with ease and even breaks a smile as Athena shakes the ground with a thunderous stomp.
Petting her steed’s neck Joanna nods before using her teeth to double click and send Athena into a full gallop around Luca. “A Horsewoman that understands herself, her purpose, and her sisters! We all have goals, we all have a reason for choosing the lives we lead, free of the societal corruption that has infected the world. We are the bringers of change, of truth. We need not pursue gold, validation, accolades for they will fall at our feet. Tokens, of those afraid of our power! We’ve become lost my sisters, but through this penance I will receive my redemption while lighting the path ahead!”
A small nudge from Joanna causes Athena to buck right as the horse jumps over a fallen tree with a massive hole in its trunk. Taking to the air Joanna doesn’t hesitate to twist and let the air engulf her. Patting the ground Athena builds the suspense before Joanna grabs a branch and swings around it until her momentum fades. Laughter and neighing fill the air as the two partners enjoy their small show.
When she speaks again Joanna’s conviction is absolute and her words hold a power that had only ever been felt when Emma was in rare form. Dropping to the branch beneath her, War looks right into the camera as she unleashes her final thoughts. “Goldie, you questioned my motives well there they are! I plan to take everything you three can give and show that a true horsewoman will be able to dig deep inside themselves, find the power of her sisters, the power Chaos bestowed upon us, and will the result they desire. I’m not sure which is better, me being carried out and having served my penance, or me walking out having proven that I am not the same Joanna that was released from Toad Road. Either work for me, but regardless War comes to VoW on April 28th. The question is can even her sisters stop her, or is VoW about to become a bloodbath of change?!”
Joanna’s voice begins to climb in pitch as the familiar manic glee starts to grasp at the edge of her words. “Even I don’t know sisters! I simply don’t care either. Both serve the same purpose and put the locker room on notice. We are not like anything they’ve seen before let alone faced. And when focused on a single objective, we are a force of nature. You three may think you’re ready for war, but only one of us bares the name.”
Joanna drops from the tree only to have Athena walk up behind her. Rider and beast posed for the battle ahead, unblinking, unafraid, and most certainly prepared to leave everything in the ring. Joanna spreads her arms wide and as the scene fades, welcomes all that her sisters think is enough to break her. War is ready, willing, and begging for this collision.
