[quote=@Thanqol]

You had prey creatures the last time this happened.

You remember the faces. Innocent. Vulnerable. Puppets on your strings. You were in their heads and in their veins and the world was good. The hunt was over and all that was left was toying with the already defeated prey like a cat plays with a mouse. Everything was perfect up until it wasn't.

Your hands beat against the lid of the coffin. You splintered the wood. Tore it apart. You didn't stop striking until you had surrounded yourself in splinters and finally acknowledged that they'd dumped the coffin in the back of a cement truck.

Like you said, it wasn't that bad if you were there voluntarily.

They [i]betrayed [/i]you. Where had they got the courage? Who had put them up to it? Rache? Her face showed up in your dreams more and more. She had the skill, the power, the [i]reasons [/i]to do something like that. But she'd always seemed like she'd sit on her grudges forever. Just as weak as the rest. Until she wasn't.

The room darkens and fills with smoke, and lightning flashes outside. Tell me of the past, Samael. 
[/quote]

There is a lot of past to speak of. Perhaps the war? The last time I was voluntarily confined underground. 

Do not mistake me for someone who enlisted because of some deep conviction or feelings of righteousness, it was simply a desire to be in the thick of the smell of blood. In my inexperience I didn't see any real cause to fear for my unlife. That changed. More things fly in the air than mere bullets. It is true that no matter how much you think you know what to expect when going in to war, it is never that. Even I found myself surprised, shocked, perhaps at times even disturbed, by the sights, sounds and smells. Don't get me wrong, it was a banquet to dream of. I had plenty of fun as we travelled, lacing my threads of control in to minds of all ranks, especially those of the officers. It was an enjoyable game that allowed me to shape my own situation to quite a comfortable one. Until it wasn't.

They say no plan survives contact with the enemy. I doubt I'll ever approach a frontline again, even for her. 

She found me, just when I needed her the most, as always. Hers was the last face I saw before the coffin lid closed over my mangled body. Her hair still smelled like campfires from the smoke. I dreamed of her then, healing under the earth, as I dream of her now, trapped in this mausoleum. I am no longer buried in the ground but being entombed in this place is not all that different. No warmth. No pleasure. No peace. Mindbreaking monotony day and night. She put me in the ground then because I needed it. Perhaps she was the one who moved me to the cement truck, maybe by then she felt I deserved it. Hexes wear off, sadly. Shame, I had hoped we'd have longer.

I am not sorry. 

I guess she doesn't feel the same. 

But none of this is what you wanted to hear. You wanted me to tell you about my sister, Rache. 

And yet that is precisely what I have done.