"for the beauty of the rose, we also water the thorns."
Descendant of Loa lineage, Karliah Shango stems from masters of Haitian and the old Oyo Empire Vodou. After the nuclear wipe out, she finds herself thrown into leadership with little comprehe...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Karliah sat in the middle of the altar, feet tucked underneath her as she squeezed her eyes shut. With every inhale, she felt the statues lining the walls seemingly come to life. There were several of them, stone-carved works of the many Loas. For the first time in months, she found herself reaching out to them instead of the other way around, only due to the sudden change of heart she had.
It was anything if not difficult, swallowing the pill that so many around her had so forcefully attempted to lodge down her throat. The prophecy was something she'd contemplated her entire life, only now had it finally grown front and center of her worries. She'd been instilled with a sense of liability ever since she was a child, to fix the chaos soon to overrun the world as she knew it. Needless to say, she grew to resent the role she was placed in. Little to nothing could make her budge, not her father's words, the guidance of the Loa, not even the end of the world.
And now, here she sat at the opposite end of the spectrum. Overcome with a sense of purpose and willing to sacrifice either herself or the man she found herself falling in love with, all if it meant putting an end to the constant burden of loss and rinsing herself of the blood on her hands.
Suddenly, the smell of smoke burned her nostrils. She then blinked, opening her eyes to find none other than the looming figure of Papa Legba standing in front of her, the clipped cigar she provided as an offering now resting between his lips. He gave her a knowing smile, "You're a stubborn one, but I knew you'd come around," his heavy accent filled the air, a cloud of smoke dissipating past his mouth.
Standing up, she looked to find several other apparitions stepping out of their respected tombs. A strained yawn met her ears as Marinette stretched, her yellow-eyes meeting those of Karliah's as she treaded towards her, "Gade sa - you've summoned us for a real reason, and it's not to kill anyone," her heavy accent filled the room as she pushed the hood of her shawl off of her head, "This must be truly important."
She tucked her tongue in her cheek as Papa Legba chuckled at the remark. She shook her head, "I changed my mind."
A hum emitted from the looming figure of Baron Samedi as he adjusted the collar of his sleek, black trench coat, "Oh, my dear, we knew before you did,"
"I must admit, mwen Larenn," Damballa spoke as he approached her, "We've received many prayers regarding you and your leadership,"
Karliah frowned, "What do you mean?"
"Your people have been praying on your downfall to say the least," Papa Legba all but hummed, as if it was nothing but a joke to him, "And after your speech a few days ago, they want you gone."
The girl stared at him through a narrowed gaze, "Then I'll just tell them and everyone else that the plan is off, and that the prophecy will be completed."
