[center][img]https://i.imgur.com/E4xvlu8.png[/img][/center]
[center][h3][color=magenta]Her Alluring Eminence Baganaria[/color][/h3][/center]
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[center]0/4[color=magenta] Defiler's Clock[/color][/center]

What is a beauty? You may have a lady of your liking, or a gentleman so handsome that you become infatuated. Are they beautiful? Indeed, but are they the manifestation of beauty itself? Now let them be sacrificed, let them be non-existent any longer in this world. What would you feel? A loss? A regret? Why? Isn't that because the knowledge of the Beauty itself is already in there? The Beauty itself lies inside you. 

Iziza manifests herself inside the desiring heart, not behind any idols or effigies, mere simulacra which meagerly depict the wider perspective of the Beauty itself. All creatures are granted with such passion can cultivate their soul to become one, united with The Sweet Temptress. The first gateway for a soul to understand the Beauty is by exposing the physical senses with the deprivation of the Beauty herself.

That was my teaching, a quite radical doctrine I might say.

My recent work, a ritualistic opera, bringing the title of "Defloration of Iziza", was composed to represent such notion. The sudden dissonant in harmony, the disjointed dialogues, the choreographic deconstruction, and the wounding of the main actors filled the falling down anticlimactic narrative structures. Beyond forms, of course, there's a sublime purgation of the shackle in the hearts of the appreciators, the loss of Beauty in their sense, the realisation that their own desires are the keepers and the very presence of the Beauty itself.

I was excommunicated. My heretical work was destroyed. My sympathizers were persecuted. My life was endangered as the inquisitors were sent to bring me into questions and to judge me for what I created. My own succubus kin, my own adherents and my fellows in the worship of Iziza, turned against me.

Iziza's adherent called me a heretic, but the Sweet Temptress is not her adherents. I believe that it is not a coincidence that Iziza still allows me to live until now. In this dimlight of a humble campfire, I've just met some new fellow outcasts, sharing stories with these gentlemen regardless of the truth behind them. Despite every irony of all that happened in my life, I conduct myself a worship around the campfire. My dance encircles the dim light, my song praises Iziza.

My teaching shall manifest, my temple shall be built, my church shall be prosperous.