he had been warned of this character. she had slain many an army, but left unoticed.

Delanjo was a weaver of emotions. when she was in a good mood, she was magnetic. men and women alike would flock to her. if you became a target of her anger, you were as good as dead, your soul would be sucked into torment, causing your body to fall ill.

wurmspawn opened the door to the chamber. he did not see what he expected. made to seem even smaller than her slight frame by the enormous crimson drapes that surrounded the bed. the small girl lounged with papers spread out before her. she held a small surgical knife in one hand and a pot of paste lay nearby. they were not just papers, but fragments of mutilated paintings, scraps of her interests laid out before her.

she had not seemed to notice the sound of the door opening. wurm approached the edge of the bed, stood silently for a moment, and then spoke.

"what is it that you are doing?"

she looked up calmly, with eyes older than her youthful appearance. eyes that had seen the pain of torture and the depth of love. "i am but a reflection of what i see in life. the words of these pages and the images in these paintings hold meaning, my emotions speak through them".

"and why do you put them together like this?"

she returned her gaze to her craft, not answering. "what is it that brings you here?"

"i have heard lore of a dangerous and profound individual. i seek to find her and see if she is friend or foe. but you do not appear to be one of such power as i have heard of."

the scalpel cut through the nose of a man's portrait "you do not give me the impression of judging based upon appearances" she said in a dry tone.

"indeed" moments passed.

"put your mask back on."

"i think you would rather see how my mask makes me appear than what is underneath."

"i do not think there is a distinction"

"that is because your focus is too shallow"

---

I dwell in darkness,

a kingdom of one

both peon and ruler

beloved and despised

your words tear at me

my heart is chained to the merest glint of your affection

i am chasing a shadow of something i know not to be there

but it is something more than my days of lonely despair

the pain sharpens my mind

blade against stone

I push myself to do better

a true prize is never alone

i hide in my cave, and worry myself thin

too weak to try, too strong to give in

my irons are self-wrought

but they're all I have

i chase the darkness to see what i am not

i am an unborn phoenix, an egg in the fire

the flames not hot enough to fuel a desire

i want to be perfect, i want to be me

not holding myself back, to be finally free

the path is not easy, and so i balk

i know i am capable, i know i am good

people smile when i'm in phase,

and often speak praise.

but it's not good enough for me

i know i can be more

through these wounds i am stronger

i am afraid to fail

and thus i fear trying