"My Darling, Oedipus"
Chapter I-Psychosis
"There's a mirage of you. I see you. I see you. Yet, once my hand reaches for yours, you fade once more away. "
thump…. thump…...thump…...
Honerva wouldn't consider herself all that loving, in fact there wasn't much that she did love outside her own research and husband. Everything else was subpar, inconsequential as far as she was concerned. She remembers names of those that serve her, and those that oppose. It's not out of reverence, but simply because she does. Its habit, so to say. But, other than names, rank and generic personal history, she cared very little of attachment. Guards come and go, either promoted or their lives were simply cut short. Assistants, save for a few, also came and went.
thump…. thump…...thump…...
The on goings of others paraded around her in a ceaseless loop. She supposed that was what immorality offered. A ceaseless loop of event, after event. Planets conquered, planets gained. Others destroyed….so on and so on, it hardly matters, just because she married a conquer doesn't mean she is one. She was alchemist, a scientist first and foremost, and lucky for her, knowledge was infinite, and ever expanding. And lucky for her she had all the time in the world. Time to dissect, to discern, to hypothesis, and to experiment.
thump...thump…...thump…...
It was always the marvel of her day to discover something, never thought of, and understand which was never properly understood. It filled her with personal glee, as it not only benefited her, it benefited Zarkon, if it benefited Zarkon, it benefited the empire. When Zarkon was happy, though happy is certainly stretching it, it made her happy, in a sense.
...However, her progress in utilizing raw Quintessence-how to infuse it with organic begins without corrupting their sense of reasoning or resulting in death had so, far been proceeding well. Slowly exposing young galra to a small dosage of quintessence every two weeks. However, the more important question was infusing adult galra without causing long-term moral degradation.
There's an itch in face that just won't recede-she tries to ebb it with a rub of her shoulder, but alas it still persists-ignoring the urge to use her fingers, which at the moment were covered in bodily fluids and blood, as sifts through the intestinal tract of her latest failure. Though, she used failure lightly, as the fool, a galra, male, perhaps maybe 80 years of age, a recently promote commander, hadn't heeded her warnings in excess exposure to quintessence during long periods of time. It killed him instantly, though he was strong, he wasn't strong enough to survive the symptoms that followed excessive exposure. Which included violent muscle spasms and tearing, vomiting, seizures lasting 30 minutes or more, excessive perspiration, chills, shakes, defecation. In all honestly, not a pretty sight to watch another living being's body tear itself from the inside out. A few her assistant either left the room, unable to stomach the nightmare playing out in front of them, or also joined in on the vomiting. Either way, it was cacophony of stench and gruesome displays.
She wrinkled her nose, as she found nothing worth noting, aside from a few tissue samples. Death due overexposure. She stitched the body back, as quickly as she sliced it opened.
"I suppose that a detailed autopsy report should be sent to the family of the deceased. Along with my condolences."
"Yes, Empress."
She stalks over to the laboratory's sink, gloves removed, and let the cool water wash the stomach bile, and blood from her hands. She brushed her shoulder against her cheek again with the itching abating somewhat.
Thump...thump…...thump…. thump…. thump…...
Her eyes snapped around. She watched as the rest of the druids, wrapped up the body, and disinfect her bloody equipment.
Metal clanked against metal, and shoes pitter patter against the metallic floors. The room was quiet save for the light breathing, and whispers of those that went about their work.
…. Perhaps, she was hearing things…. again. She pressed two fingers to her brow.
You don't look well, Honerva?
"Empress?" One her druids, the eldest, spoke. He's voice was passive, but she noted the edge of concern.
"Yes."
"Are you well? You seem faint?"
She removes her fingers from her forehead, and crosses her arms, and peers away. "I am fine. Just fatigued, nothing more that should concern you."
"I mean no disrespect. I only wish to express my concern for your health." he pauses "What you have been asked, has been done, My Empress. Is there anything else that needs tending to?"
She turns her amber gaze back to masked face, she briefly wondered what expression he was making under it. "Only that are experimentation on living beings be halted for the time being. We are going and achieving nothing with this-tryst-thump-thump-thump-thump
Her breath halts-her eyes warily, glance around the room- You should rest, Honerva
"My Empress?" she shakes her head softly and waves a dismissive hand "But, that is a task suited for another day. All of you are dismissed for the night."
The eldest druid, hesitates to follow the rest of his colleagues as they filed out the laboratory. He turns to leave, but stops in his steps, to turn his head "Are you sure you are not in need of anything, Empress." Honerva has already turned her back to him, wandering to her desk area, and with a snap of her hand, a wave of blinking screens appears.
"No. As I said before you are dismissed." She doesn't bother to look back at him. But, she heard him sigh lowly, before taking his leave, and door clips shut.
A shuddered breath of trepidation leaves her lips, her fingers grip the edge of her desk, she hears the metal strain and creek-as her shoulders slump. Her long, ivory hair, spills over her face. A sharp chill crawls of her spine, as she squeezes her eyes shut.
Thump...thump…. thump…. thump….
She inhales a shaky gulp of air, and it stings her throat, while she swallows, though it's harder than it should be. There's a lump in her esophagus, it hurts to swallow, as if something hard was logged there.
Thump…. thump…. thump…. thump...she growls in the back of her throat. A headache, maybe. It must be a headache.
"Honerva?" thump-thump-thump- she pauses-her fingers twitch.
Honerva?
She huffs through her nose, to glare forward. "Can't you just leave me alone." she seethes through clenched teeth.
You are frightened.
"An astounding assumption." she mumbles.
It's not like you to be, so openly startled.
She sniffs. She leans forwards, as she were about to heave. It felt like it.
I worry for you. You worry me.
"I didn't ask for your concern." she voice is barely above a whisper.
No. But, it won't stop me from caring for you, Honerva.
"I don't want your pity." she muttered. Her chest constricts, and burns, as she inhales and exhales through her nose. Her fingers are bordering on white, her grip slightly cracking the sooth metal of her desk.
There's a difference between pity and sympathy, Honerva.
"I want neither from you."
You're so cold, Honerva. Always, so cold.
"I am not cold. I am practical. I see things for what they are. Not what can or cannot be. It is simply being rational, logical, and unbiased. Someone as moronically idealistic as you, would never understand that." her chest continues to burn which each word that leaves her lips. It's a struggle to simply stand straight, let alone speak.
I suppose-maybe that is way you drifted, so far away. He sighs, it sounds, so tired, so heavy.
Unmentionable emotion bubbles forth beneath her skin and it scares her.
"Please leave me, I grow tired of this." she bunches her shoulders closer together. Her lips tremble.
"Honerva?" a voice booms, and one of a lower, deeper baritone that relieves and both alarms her.
Her eyes snap up and round- to greet her husband's massive form.
"My it's not every day, you grace my humble abode, my dear." she snarks weakly. Her fingers are cramping, slowly she releases her grip, her joints creaking. She reluctantly spins around, leaning her weight on the table's edge, her palms planted firmly on each side to balance herself. Her chest still burns.
"Who were you talking to?" straight to the point as, always.
She presses her lips together, gazing listlessly back into pools of lavender, as they stubbly search the lab.
"No one worth mentioning." She sighs once more and tilts her head to the side, her golden eyes averted.
He hhmps and crosses his arms. Displeased, but thought better to leave the matter alone.
There's a stillness settling around them, a bit awkward.
"Is there a matter that needs my attending?" she leans back.
"No." He looks off to the side
"Oh."
"Do I need a reason to see my wife."
She flashes him a coy smile, a slight twitch of the lips, and crinkle in her eyes.
"And what would the universe say, hhm, Mighty Emperor Zarkon, being so, bashful. The tales that would tell."
"I am not bashful."
"So, you say, dear." he says nothing, as he strides over to her. His gaze entirely upon her. "One of your druids has informed me that you are not well."
She narrows her eyes. "I am-
"You are not fine." he cuts her off. "You've been seeing him again, haven't you?" she purses her lips together. Unsure whether to answer, or to evade.
"…. Come." he unfolds his arms, to beckon her closer. She frowns.
"Is that an order?"
"Must you make everything difficult, Honerva."
"Yes. Because you are a difficult man."
"You are trembling."
She makes a noise in the back of her throat. Zarkon was unable to tell whether she was refusing to acknowledge her state of weakness or it was a haughty attempt at dismissing him, or she had simply run out of arguments to toss at him.
…. thump…. thump…. thump…
Her eyes snap open, her golden eyes darting around, her breath hitches-
"Honerva?" she feels her husband places, his large hands on her shoulders, he squeezes lightly-her gaze is still staring off into darken corners.
"Honerva." her gaze jerks back to him, startled.
"What is wrong?"
"I- "don't know. Honerva detests not knowing, as much as she detests admitting weakness.
"You need to rest."
"I have wor-
"It can wait. Your health concerns me more. Our empire prospers, a couple days will not cause it to sink because your research is postponed.
"I-" before another protest can leave her lips, she feels a sudden weightlessness, as Zarkon lifts her up from her feet. Her stomach races, His grip is firm, yet gentle. Out of habit her arms found their way around his neck to keep her balance. She knew Zarkon would never drop her, but the height did unnerve her some. A tick rides by, her stomach settles, and rigidness ebbs, as she lets herself bury her face into the crook of his neck, minding the edges of his armor and helmet.
A heavy sigh rolls of her tongue.
"Rest, Honerva." she closes her eyes, breathing in his scent.
"Alright."
It was alright. Right? She just needed rest. She just needed rest…...
