by Meimi
Character(s): Riful
Warning(s): disturbing thought patterns, mangaverse
Disclaimer: I am in no way associated with Yagi Norihiro or anyone who hold rights to Claymore. It isn't mine, I'm just playing with it.
She is lonely.
That isn't to say that she is alone, at least not when she desires to be in the company of others. Dauf, dearest Dauf, is always ready and willing to be there for her and submit to her every whim. She greatly appreciates knowing that there is at least one being in the world who will always be by her side and never break from whatever love she feels like showering him with. Unfortunately, Dauf is an idiot. He will always be an idiot. If time has not cured him of that by now, then it is unlikely that it ever shall. Thus, she has returned to the source of her rumination.
She is lonely.
She cannot recall her family, and that is assuming she ever had one. Even back then the organization already knew how to get what it wanted. They wanted girls to be their little dolls to poke and prod at will and that's exactly what they got. Where they found them, or how they acquired them was of no consequence in the end as long as they did get them. Still, she can vaguely remember a sense of camaraderie she felt in the company of the other fledgling claymores. Or perhaps that is just wishful thinking on her part. It has been so long since her flesh was painted black. Perhaps she is simply misremembering her days of yore, or perhaps not.
She has seen it, both from afar and as close as one can get without devouring the objects of her interest. While it is true that the vast majority of the claymores that make it through the actual process of becoming as such are ridiculously unstable, a state of affairs that is only encouraged by her former masters, there are some who are different. It is they who have what she wants.
They are always different of course. Some are quiet, sometimes even shy or merely reserved. Some are boisterous, loud and perhaps even obnoxious. She's met more than a few of those types. Some are foolish and some even rival her in the intellectual department. Some are even murderous and others show signs of cowardice. They all come in different shapes, sizes and flavors. But they get along. Somehow, someway, they connect with each other and are able to work together. Some even become friends, and some even go further than that.
That is what she craves.
Allies in the beginning, but with the possibility of more down the line. It was truly a shame that she was nowhere nearby when Luciela awoke. Perhaps they could have been friends. But no, that possibility had been lost even before it had a chance to germinate; and Isley has seen that nothing more could come of it. His "master" is no better. She is a monster in every sense of the word. No companionship could be garnered from something that has lost not only its heart but also its mind. It would be best for all involved for Priscilla to be put down in a timely and thorough manner. But she needs allies for that.
Yes. Allies. Sisters.
She needs more claymores. That's all there is to it. Only when they are within her grasp can they awaken properly. Only then can she mold them into what they must become. They must be strong, swift, cunning, and intelligent. She will not accept anything less. If she cannot hold a conversation with them, then they are worthless. They must be perfect. They must be hers.
She is lonely, but she will not stay that way.