Umbrium
The Fallen Woman
(( Artwork is not mine, credit due to an Anonymous and very talented source. Rose shoulder tattoo -not- present on the actual character. ))
~Empathy ~
1. Identification with and understanding of another's situation, feelings, and motives.
2. The power of entering into another’s personality and imaginatively experiencing his feelings
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A look into the life of an Empath...
It was all she knew... There as she lay prone, half broken upon the unyielding floor boards...
It gnawed at the edges of her soul, licked horridly with a barbed tongue at the ragged corners of her mind...
So alien it was, pregnant with a hate and aching her bruised heart might never conjure itself. Even the taste of it invaded her senses, clinging with a blackened fervor to her throat, choking 'til only the dregs of breath could be taken.
Shaking, she drew arms about herself, bile rising, adding its acrid taste to that which already filled her mouth.
No... such a thing she could never create, never harbor herself. This... black, writhing thing.
The man, the once bearer of the foul amalgam that so coyly wrapped itself about her, stood, looking down upon the woman.
"I am... I am sorry..." A whisper only, half truth, half lie. He reached, as if he might touch her, might offer comfort. But no, that was not his way. His fingers curled, slipped into a fist, fell to the wayside at his side.
He quit the room then, heart unburdened as it was now, steps quick to take him from the white, naked flesh that lay as if broken upon the floor.
She sobbed then, harsh and ugly. Sounds to match the ugliness he had imparted to her as he trembled, holding her tight against his body. It had left him willingly, swimming through the unseen, untouchable connection her spirit had forged with his in the moment their bodies had merged.
Always, he came seeking her warmth when the wicked darkness of mind that contaminated his being overwhelmed him, forcing him to the depths of depravity. And always, he left when he had taken his fill of her body and that hideousness had been bled from him.
Always, she welcomed him. Quiet words of comfort spilling eagerly from bruised lips... She loved him... in her way. Loved not only him, but all that were his brothers in torment, all that came seeking to have their aching, burning sorrow, bloodied hate, and hopelessness sucked away from them.
So it was, so it had been and so it always would be. She ate up all that they wished her to, filled herself with those emotions, those thoughts, those demons that they brought to her. Such was the way of the Empath, the way of the Fallen Woman.
The Fallen Woman
(( Artwork is not mine, credit due to an Anonymous and very talented source. Rose shoulder tattoo -not- present on the actual character. ))
~Empathy ~
1. Identification with and understanding of another's situation, feelings, and motives.
2. The power of entering into another’s personality and imaginatively experiencing his feelings
--------------------------------------------
A look into the life of an Empath...
It was all she knew... There as she lay prone, half broken upon the unyielding floor boards...
It gnawed at the edges of her soul, licked horridly with a barbed tongue at the ragged corners of her mind...
So alien it was, pregnant with a hate and aching her bruised heart might never conjure itself. Even the taste of it invaded her senses, clinging with a blackened fervor to her throat, choking 'til only the dregs of breath could be taken.
Shaking, she drew arms about herself, bile rising, adding its acrid taste to that which already filled her mouth.
No... such a thing she could never create, never harbor herself. This... black, writhing thing.
The man, the once bearer of the foul amalgam that so coyly wrapped itself about her, stood, looking down upon the woman.
"I am... I am sorry..." A whisper only, half truth, half lie. He reached, as if he might touch her, might offer comfort. But no, that was not his way. His fingers curled, slipped into a fist, fell to the wayside at his side.
He quit the room then, heart unburdened as it was now, steps quick to take him from the white, naked flesh that lay as if broken upon the floor.
She sobbed then, harsh and ugly. Sounds to match the ugliness he had imparted to her as he trembled, holding her tight against his body. It had left him willingly, swimming through the unseen, untouchable connection her spirit had forged with his in the moment their bodies had merged.
Always, he came seeking her warmth when the wicked darkness of mind that contaminated his being overwhelmed him, forcing him to the depths of depravity. And always, he left when he had taken his fill of her body and that hideousness had been bled from him.
Always, she welcomed him. Quiet words of comfort spilling eagerly from bruised lips... She loved him... in her way. Loved not only him, but all that were his brothers in torment, all that came seeking to have their aching, burning sorrow, bloodied hate, and hopelessness sucked away from them.
So it was, so it had been and so it always would be. She ate up all that they wished her to, filled herself with those emotions, those thoughts, those demons that they brought to her. Such was the way of the Empath, the way of the Fallen Woman.