She was a master at what she did, Road was. And what she did was this: she dreamed. She loved each and every aspect that her job required. She made up her own worlds to use as personal playgrounds and spent more time there than she ever did in the mundane waking world where things like gravity made moving around a lot less interesting. She also wandered through the dreams of others, searching for those with just the right amount of total defeat to make excellent prey for the Earl.
Road enjoyed this. She loved invading the secret treasure troves of others' to poke and prod until she came up with the right kind of customer. And she adored seeing all the other things the human mind could come up with. Frightening figures in hoods, weapons as they pierced through the body-those were her favorite kind. But Road was just as fascinated by the gentler musings. A light caress, the quick pressing of lips in a chaste kiss, even just holding hands in contentment gave her a lot to think about.
And the things she contemplated weren't nearly as tender as their inspirations. Instead, Road considered how weak the human mind really was, to be controlled by such fickle things as love and just feelings in general. She had never seen the need for such useless sentiments and made that clear in the mocking way she treated the rest of the world.
But as she watched people cry their eyes out or tear themselves apart in the wake of her manipulations, she developed a sort of pity for the human race. Not the sympathetic kind but the kind that came from the knowledge that she was superior. It gave her cause to look down from her pedestal on people even more.
That's why when she allowed herself to cry a little they were false tears. Right. Just as false as her "heart".
