1.1
Deviatesfish
Princess of Memes, Shitposts, and Puns
Being thirsty wasn’t that strange, was it?
I was born strange, but to a loving mother and a doting father. My skin was as pale as marble, they said. My eyes were red, and my hair fair, and my teeth sharp. Strange, they said, but not abnormal. Pretty and curious, in a certain light.
I should have breathed a sigh of relief, for I understood what my parents discussed. In my previous life, I was fluent in Spanish, English, Chinese, and Japanese, but what they spoke sounded most like Spanish. It wasn’t the same, but out of the bunch, I could see similarities, if I squinted. When they talked about my strangeness, and what was done to those who were deformed at birth, I felt a shiver run down my spine.
This was not Sparta, they said. But…
… but what?
I was too young, too inexperienced, to know what they had implied.
Only I knew my abnormality was not just skin deep. I was born sensitive to the sun; yet no one noticed how I squinted up at that infernal ball of flames.
I had a strange thirst about me. My mother’s (or whom I thought was my mother, but later realized was my nurse maid) milk did not sate me. Goat’s milk did nothing. Fermented stomped grapes, oil extracted from crushed olives, and the water of rivers and seas all did nothing for me. I had a thirst, you see.
The deformity did not end there. Perhaps I was possessed, I thought to myself. Perhaps it was just a mental sickness. I thought I heard voices. I thought I felt souls of the dead. I must have been crazy, right?
At least my mother and my father both loved me.
I didn’t know their names weren’t Mater and Pater until… well, far too late. Most kids were like that, weren’t they? But they had the excuse of being young. I didn’t, not really.
I had an eldest sister, Julia. Everyone calls her Big Julia, in this new language I was born into. “Julia, you are so well-behaved.”
I had a second sister too. She was Middle Julia. You could see the naming pattern here. “I see what you’re saying, and I think you’re being silly, sister.”
And finally, I had an elder brother too, who was named Gaius. “My sisters are all silly.”
“Better,” Mother would say, as my big brother would look towards her for affirmation. She would nod at him and give this sort of a half-smile. “You aren’t saying all women are silly, and this no longer offends me. But do be careful of offending your sisters, Gaius.”
He would scoff.
And I would kick his shin.
We were a happy family, I thought. There were also some of older brother’s friends, who would practice with sticks or something with him, but I didn’t care about that. This was a beautiful world, with crystal clean air and a full, happy family filled with love. Nothing could go wrong, even if I was a little weird, right?
We lived in the countryside. It was a decent sized plantation, and we had a couple dozen slaves. There were different types here. Some of the slaves were loyal to the family, and they were the overseers. Others were new, and they worked the fields. Those were conquered peoples who had fought and killed our friends, Gaius would say.
I would shrug and tell him he is so smart and pat him on the head. He really wanted to prove himself. It was very cute.
Some days, father would return home. His name was also called Gaius. Mother called him that, anyway, some times. Father was often away in the big city, on some business or another. In my past life, I had lived like that too. It was a tiring thing, but it was well worth it, whatever kind of business father did.
Whenever he returned, he would smile down at me with this look of joy, and I would feel everything was right in the world. Even the voices would dim and the sun wouldn’t feel so harsh. I mean, wouldn’t you? Parental love is a joyous thing to have.
I wouldn’t even feel so head-achingly thirsty when the whole family was together.
And then, one night, I heard shouting. I heard roars.
When I woke, I saw Gaius and his friends burst into the room I shared with my sisters. They had sweat covered faces, specked with blood, and maniacal glazes in their eyes. Brother’s gaze fell upon me, his eye as thin as pin pricks, and he roared, “Come along, we’re all needed at the wall! Father needs all of us!”
The wall was the barricade around the estate. It was something like two people high or so… I was not a good judge of these things, being barely five years old. Eldest sister was the first to question, “What is happening?”
“A revolt. A damned thing of the slaves,” one of brother’s friends replied. “There’s nowhere to run, but if they get over the wall, then it’s best we can see you.”
We followed silently after that; it was not our place to talk. It was a terse few minutes, and I felt like I could hear everyone’s heart beats. They must have been even more scared than I was.
When we arrived at the gates, we found father. His arm was bleeding from some kind of shallow cut, and he too had a look on his face that promised violence. Several family slaves were with him, some of them were so close to us I felt like they were my uncles and aunts.
One of them was a tall man from across the sea. His skin was dark and his eyes were kind; he was said to be one of the best warriors of his tribe. He taught brother many things with the spear, if I remembered correctly.
I wanted to walk over to them, but mother appeared and she pulled me back.
“Why?”
“Let the men do their work, daughter.”
“I want to help.”
“Don’t be stupid.”
And that was all I was allowed to say; she handed me off to one of the other servants. The violence seemed to stretch into the night, and I saw things burning in the distance.
Soon, our own arms started weakening and failing. More than one uncle fell, pulled down from the walls and into the crowded, chaotic horde and into the frenzy of violence and blood. Several of brother’s friends had even fallen asleep, only to be prodded awake by the tip of a spear or a sword.
The iron scent of blood filled the air even as the light of the sun seemed to be ever present just over the horizon. The skies were red now, with the coming dawn.
And I could hold back that thirst no more.
Though my body held still, I stretched my neck down to a grotesque length so that my elongated tongue could twist and reach like a living tentacle. With barely any contact, the tip of that pink tongue touched the nearest splatter of blood that fell at my feet.
I had fallen onto my knees. I started lapping at it like a dog at water, I could hold back that urge no longer. It was nothing like curiosity and it was far more ravenous. It was a deathly need, a hunger, and a desire for the blood before me.
Only when I touched the blood did I realize what I had been yearning all these years.
Being thirsty for blood wasn’t that strange, was it?
“Ha… ha… haa...” I panted as I licked up the drops of blood, and something burned within me. Not akin to fire, and not akin to life. It was something abominable… something abnormal, and horrific. Fear filled me once more, as I wondered how I would be butchered once it was known.
But I couldn’t help it anymore. Like arrows that have been let loose, the millions of droplets of blood from all over the plantation came to me. I called for them. I needed them.
I wanted them.
The voices grew louder. Realization hit me like the blunt-force of a baseball bat. What I had been listening to was not the delusions of a reincarnated girl. They were not hallucinations caused by some kind of unknown chemical in this forgotten, ancient era. They were… they were the souls of the dead, who died and fertilized the land with their blood.
Within the blood, you can find the soul. I wondered… were they damned to be bound to me? What kind of monster was I that I grew stronger with each droplet I drank? As if I gained the strength of another man with each soul I slaved to my own.
I must have drank for ages. The sun was up when I finally overcame that disgusting thirst. The taste of blood on the tip of my tongue caused me to wretch and dry vomit… but nothing could come out.
How could you regurgitate a soul after you had devoured it in its entirety?
When I looked up, I saw the hatred upon father’s visage. He recoiled when he met my eyes. “This is not my daughter, Aurelia. What is this thing?”
I was born strange, but to a loving mother and a doting father. My skin was as pale as marble, they said. My eyes were red, and my hair fair, and my teeth sharp. Strange, they said, but not abnormal. Pretty and curious, in a certain light.
I should have breathed a sigh of relief, for I understood what my parents discussed. In my previous life, I was fluent in Spanish, English, Chinese, and Japanese, but what they spoke sounded most like Spanish. It wasn’t the same, but out of the bunch, I could see similarities, if I squinted. When they talked about my strangeness, and what was done to those who were deformed at birth, I felt a shiver run down my spine.
This was not Sparta, they said. But…
… but what?
I was too young, too inexperienced, to know what they had implied.
Only I knew my abnormality was not just skin deep. I was born sensitive to the sun; yet no one noticed how I squinted up at that infernal ball of flames.
I had a strange thirst about me. My mother’s (or whom I thought was my mother, but later realized was my nurse maid) milk did not sate me. Goat’s milk did nothing. Fermented stomped grapes, oil extracted from crushed olives, and the water of rivers and seas all did nothing for me. I had a thirst, you see.
The deformity did not end there. Perhaps I was possessed, I thought to myself. Perhaps it was just a mental sickness. I thought I heard voices. I thought I felt souls of the dead. I must have been crazy, right?
At least my mother and my father both loved me.
I didn’t know their names weren’t Mater and Pater until… well, far too late. Most kids were like that, weren’t they? But they had the excuse of being young. I didn’t, not really.
I had an eldest sister, Julia. Everyone calls her Big Julia, in this new language I was born into. “Julia, you are so well-behaved.”
I had a second sister too. She was Middle Julia. You could see the naming pattern here. “I see what you’re saying, and I think you’re being silly, sister.”
And finally, I had an elder brother too, who was named Gaius. “My sisters are all silly.”
“Better,” Mother would say, as my big brother would look towards her for affirmation. She would nod at him and give this sort of a half-smile. “You aren’t saying all women are silly, and this no longer offends me. But do be careful of offending your sisters, Gaius.”
He would scoff.
And I would kick his shin.
We were a happy family, I thought. There were also some of older brother’s friends, who would practice with sticks or something with him, but I didn’t care about that. This was a beautiful world, with crystal clean air and a full, happy family filled with love. Nothing could go wrong, even if I was a little weird, right?
We lived in the countryside. It was a decent sized plantation, and we had a couple dozen slaves. There were different types here. Some of the slaves were loyal to the family, and they were the overseers. Others were new, and they worked the fields. Those were conquered peoples who had fought and killed our friends, Gaius would say.
I would shrug and tell him he is so smart and pat him on the head. He really wanted to prove himself. It was very cute.
Some days, father would return home. His name was also called Gaius. Mother called him that, anyway, some times. Father was often away in the big city, on some business or another. In my past life, I had lived like that too. It was a tiring thing, but it was well worth it, whatever kind of business father did.
Whenever he returned, he would smile down at me with this look of joy, and I would feel everything was right in the world. Even the voices would dim and the sun wouldn’t feel so harsh. I mean, wouldn’t you? Parental love is a joyous thing to have.
I wouldn’t even feel so head-achingly thirsty when the whole family was together.
And then, one night, I heard shouting. I heard roars.
When I woke, I saw Gaius and his friends burst into the room I shared with my sisters. They had sweat covered faces, specked with blood, and maniacal glazes in their eyes. Brother’s gaze fell upon me, his eye as thin as pin pricks, and he roared, “Come along, we’re all needed at the wall! Father needs all of us!”
The wall was the barricade around the estate. It was something like two people high or so… I was not a good judge of these things, being barely five years old. Eldest sister was the first to question, “What is happening?”
“A revolt. A damned thing of the slaves,” one of brother’s friends replied. “There’s nowhere to run, but if they get over the wall, then it’s best we can see you.”
We followed silently after that; it was not our place to talk. It was a terse few minutes, and I felt like I could hear everyone’s heart beats. They must have been even more scared than I was.
When we arrived at the gates, we found father. His arm was bleeding from some kind of shallow cut, and he too had a look on his face that promised violence. Several family slaves were with him, some of them were so close to us I felt like they were my uncles and aunts.
One of them was a tall man from across the sea. His skin was dark and his eyes were kind; he was said to be one of the best warriors of his tribe. He taught brother many things with the spear, if I remembered correctly.
I wanted to walk over to them, but mother appeared and she pulled me back.
“Why?”
“Let the men do their work, daughter.”
“I want to help.”
“Don’t be stupid.”
And that was all I was allowed to say; she handed me off to one of the other servants. The violence seemed to stretch into the night, and I saw things burning in the distance.
Soon, our own arms started weakening and failing. More than one uncle fell, pulled down from the walls and into the crowded, chaotic horde and into the frenzy of violence and blood. Several of brother’s friends had even fallen asleep, only to be prodded awake by the tip of a spear or a sword.
The iron scent of blood filled the air even as the light of the sun seemed to be ever present just over the horizon. The skies were red now, with the coming dawn.
And I could hold back that thirst no more.
Though my body held still, I stretched my neck down to a grotesque length so that my elongated tongue could twist and reach like a living tentacle. With barely any contact, the tip of that pink tongue touched the nearest splatter of blood that fell at my feet.
I had fallen onto my knees. I started lapping at it like a dog at water, I could hold back that urge no longer. It was nothing like curiosity and it was far more ravenous. It was a deathly need, a hunger, and a desire for the blood before me.
Only when I touched the blood did I realize what I had been yearning all these years.
Being thirsty for blood wasn’t that strange, was it?
“Ha… ha… haa...” I panted as I licked up the drops of blood, and something burned within me. Not akin to fire, and not akin to life. It was something abominable… something abnormal, and horrific. Fear filled me once more, as I wondered how I would be butchered once it was known.
But I couldn’t help it anymore. Like arrows that have been let loose, the millions of droplets of blood from all over the plantation came to me. I called for them. I needed them.
I wanted them.
The voices grew louder. Realization hit me like the blunt-force of a baseball bat. What I had been listening to was not the delusions of a reincarnated girl. They were not hallucinations caused by some kind of unknown chemical in this forgotten, ancient era. They were… they were the souls of the dead, who died and fertilized the land with their blood.
Within the blood, you can find the soul. I wondered… were they damned to be bound to me? What kind of monster was I that I grew stronger with each droplet I drank? As if I gained the strength of another man with each soul I slaved to my own.
I must have drank for ages. The sun was up when I finally overcame that disgusting thirst. The taste of blood on the tip of my tongue caused me to wretch and dry vomit… but nothing could come out.
How could you regurgitate a soul after you had devoured it in its entirety?
When I looked up, I saw the hatred upon father’s visage. He recoiled when he met my eyes. “This is not my daughter, Aurelia. What is this thing?”
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