Warm my heart tonight (force me to lose control)
And hold my head up high (watch as I lose my soul)
And help me to survive (push me until I fall)
-Muse, "Liquid State"

It was like a splash of cold water right to her face that woke her.

Then again, that was exactly what it was. With a bare sputter her eyes flashed open, looking up at a almost, but not quite, stony faced woman. She held the upended bucket in both hands, letting the last drops of water fall from its brim to hit her squarely in the face before setting it off to the side.

At least, she hoped it was water.

She made a motion to move, the sort one would give to stand up and get in the face of whoever woke you up in such a fashion, only to find out that her hands were bound tightly behind her back. She was flat on her back for that matter, falchion gone along with her armor. She was still dressed, she still had her boots on she could both see and feel, but otherwise her sword belt, pack, cloak and gloves were long since departed from her company.

Well, wasn't this just the shit.

"You're not Lunarian." The woman began, an unassuming brunette that had nothing but averageness about her. Not that she was conceited; she was, nor that she was egotistical; she was that too, but she knew plain just as she knew exotic. This woman was definitely on the other end of the spectrum, a look and appearance that oddly enough, strangely enough, would allow her to blend in anywhere. In no direction could she be considered anything save for absolutely average, utterly in the middle of the road.

"Nor are you Uranian." She continued on, the bucket set aside to a table that held things from her angle she couldn't see. Under her body, given she was pretty much flat on her back, she could feel cold marble, wet in places from the … whatever was thrown on her. The room was smokey, the few times her eyes managed and desired to trail away from whoever this apparent captor was. There was a fire roaring behind the woman, casting her in shadows while highlighting herself.

It was the same as when she first spoke to the Priestess, after that first concussion. Her mind latched on that, trying desperately to figure out what had happened, given the last she remembered was riding off from the monastery on the horse. Somewhere along the way she must have passed out, and here she was, captured. A brilliantly smooth move Minako. You could almost say you had that planned. She would give herself that, damnably optimistic in the face of not very good things.

The woman mused, before she suddenly moved, kneeling over her. No it wasn't a kneel; she was sitting on top of her, uncaring of the discomfort it put her in, or how her bound hands dug into her lower back all the more for it. Her hand grasped her face sharply, turning her head this way and that before she laughed. There wasn't anything musical or lilting about it; it was far more contemptuous than anything.

"A fucking Venusian. How so fitting for you to be on your back." Squeezing her face sharply she made no move to rise, content in the hold she had on her would be more than sufficient to keep her in place. She might be able to wrestle her way out of the hold but the relied on so much more than what she was willing to give and far more than what she actually had. "The famed Lunarian emissary is nothing more than a Venusian whore…" Her hand left her face returning with a dagger. Even in the shadows presented she could tell it was sharp, more so given how the fire light glinted off of its surface.

It was worth the wary look she gave it, especially as it came close to her face. Goddess please not another blow to my head… but instead the dagger made quick work of the bandaging that had been wrapped around her temple. The protection it offered from where the Priestess clobbered her with a short sword fell away, releasing the pressuring hold. The irony would have been if it was given by the one she had marked, but it wasn't like she ever had the chance to look.

"Mmm, she really did a number on you. Any harder and you likely never would have woken up." The woman tsked at the damage, her fingers cruelly pressing in to her temple. It took her remaining willpower to not cry out in induced agony, but she couldn't help the feeling of tears welling in her eyes. "Oh what's this, are you going to cry?" Mockingly the woman asked, gleefully continuing on in her efforts to get the tears to start. When none immediately fell she smirked, fingers pressing sharply in retribution.

And with that her voice cried out in pain. She struggled, body bucking under her tormenting captor, trying to gain anything for leverage. The woman just laughed at her, letting her thrash a moment before backhanding her casually across the face. Another blow was about to come; the first one left stars dancing across her vision but the woman paused, looking at her with her hand still raised to levy the resounding slap.

"I know you." Was how she started out, hands pulling her head from side to side as though she needed confirmation, something more, before she drew in a sharp breath. Her gaze widened; it was brown she noted, stunned for a moment in disbelief before she scowled, backhanding her again before pushing up to her feet. "You're the fucking Princess of Venus. Whoever did you fuck or suck the cock of to become someone of importance in the Lunarian court?"

The world was spinning in such a manner that it wanted to leave her in the darkness again. But she had an opportunity, and if anything, her pride refused to let her take too much more while flat on her back. The woman was standing above her, no longer keeping her pinned. Believing entirely that the pain inflicted; while it hurt yes, her face was positively throbbing, would be enough to keep her in line, she discounted the same thing that everyone else did about her.

Just because she was a Venusian did not mean she was weak. Just because she was a Venusian certainly did not mean everything of importance to her came at the cost of being on her back.

Her legs were not bound; a bad move on her captor's behalf. Up they rose, a booted foot jamming hard right between the woman's legs. Woman or man, no one appreciated such a blow to that portion of their body, and like clockwork she instantly buckled, drawing in on her body protectively. She had just seconds she knew; it would hurt but it would also piss anyone off. She struggled to rise, to get some balance under her, fighting against the uneasiness she felt and her own equilibrium being so horribly off.

The woman recovered before she could; she wasn't surprised given her condition. A sharp boot caught her in the side, connecting with her ribs that she had no choice but to roll. "Fucking bitch!" Came the instant retort she knew would be behind the attack, trying to retain her breath, trying to draw further for that matter as well, as another kick came. She felt something give within her, instant lances of fire spread along her side and seared her lungs. Coughing only made it worse, breathing was a whole new level of awareness, and moving should have been out of the question, but she still pressed the defensive to get away.

On another kick she moved with all her worth, trying to ignore the pain which proved to be impossible. Her training however dictated, along with her pride, that she get up and fight and not just lay there and take it. Her body crashed into the table, the one that held the bucket. The contents came spilling to the floor with a clatter of metal and wood on marble. Her hands fumbled against themselves and something sharp; a dagger was her best hope, bringing it behind her and to her bonds that held her wrists in place. That she cut herself in the process she didn't care about, feeling her hands free as she brought her arms in front of her, able to go on the defensive. That her hands bled she didn't care about…

…That the alarming sensation of fire filling her veins did.

Her teeth grit she ignored it, pressing up to her feet. Armed now, hands freely flowing with blood that gathered over the dagger's edge she pressed her attack, forcing her captor to give ground now with each swiping thrust. The woman danced back, collecting her falchion that was on the other table within the room, along with the rest of her gear. Oh, so that was how it was going to be was it? Against her own weapon?

Her hands felt like they were on fire, spreading up her arms as though they were strained. It was akin to the muscle burn one would get after holding something aloft for hours, only to finally be given permission to set it down. They burned, she burned, feeling like she was be consumed from the inside out. It hurt to breathe but it would hurt far worse if she faltered here. There was always time to rest later, everything could be pushed off to later. The here and now demanded more than what she was feeling.

The fact she was bleeding was not lost on the other woman who held her falchion incorrectly. Melee combat was apparently not her thing and it was only sheer luck that she managed to stay out of range of the dagger. She took the opportunity presented, putting distance; the very roaring fires itself between them. "That burning sensation you feel…" she started with, taunting as her words captured the blonde's attention. "The very Fires of Mars reject you, you fucking Venusian whore!" Her hand reached behind her, falchion forgotten. A handful of powder was thrown in the blonde's face, watching as she stumbled back. Blinded, caught off guard, there was no way to block such an attack in the first place which was why it was so effective.

Meant to confuse the senses she pressed the offense, watching as the blonde stumbled back. Dropping the dagger her hands went to her face, frantically trying to wipe the dust from her gaze and succeeding in nothing more than leaving streaks of blood across her features. Tainted already by the same sort of enchantment she had placed to Pyrite's spear, the blonde was just hastening her exposure while trying to be freed of the dust. The corrupting fires would do the rest; now was her time to taunt.

You can never leave this place... there is no way home.

Her face felt like it was equally on fire, belatedly realizing that it wasn't the smartest thing she could have done. Pressing her forearm against her eyes she tried to listen for the other, knowing she was not at all in a good position and fully at the mercy of her captor. She had tried to learn how to fight blindly, but for all her successful ventures it was ultimately not something she could accomplish. Listening for someone, feeling out their presence… she had discipline yes but not for something like that.

The voice of before resounded in her mind, a whisper that tormented with each hiss. It compounded her failures, her realities. It was faceless and still possessed a thousand of them, each more hideous, more non descript, than the last. With crooked features it mocked her, feasting on her sorrows, her inabilities, her loneliness, her facades and masks she hid behind to hide who she really was.

You will die when you leave this place, there is nothing left of your world.

Her mind pictured it all too well. The palace was destroyed, left to rubble. The white marble that had constructed it was dirty now, artistically painted with streaks of dirt, despair, and blood. Stained, nothing remained, everything had been trampled into the ground under the bootheel of oppression. It wasn't the ruins that bothered her; it was the overall lack of them. Bits and pieces were all that remained, as though an explosion both leveled and caused it to vanish.

You have already lost.

She felt her will slipping away, consciousness becoming something slippery to grasp hold of. Stumbling she fell to a knee with a sharp cry, her arms moving to wrap tightly about her body. Fingers dug, nails burrowed, holding herself tightly as bile rolled in her stomach. Her body shook violently, confused as to how it should feel. One moment burning hot and the next searing cold. Shivering despite the sweat that she was producing.

All of your friends are dead.

The visions were not done yet. Littered among the scant ruins, their bodies made up for the overall lack of materials. People she knew, acquaintances of years gone past. People she knew from her home planet, those she had met on the Moon. Even from other planets, the occasional person from Mercury or Jupiter were also present here. Guards, servants, stablehands and everything in between were more than picturesquely displayed for her viewing pleasure.

No one is coming to save you.

Her kneeling position gave out, dropping her on the floor. Curled into a ball from the mental barrage, she pressed her face sharply to the marble floor. Anything that could ground her in a world that was losing itself moment by moment to sickness and burning fire. Her body convulsed, vomiting the contents of her stomach which was nothing but bile anyway. Reactively she tried to shield away from it, tried to get away but found it impossible to do more than wallow in the disease. What was the worst burn taking over her body? Her mind refused to focus on it, refused to grasp it, giving in instead to madness.

I am the lucid dream … the monster in your nightmares … the fiend of a thousand faces…

She screamed. She screamed as though she had never screamed before, had never screamed with such passion, such emotion. As though no one else in the expanse of the cosmos could ever have demonstrated what it was to scream as she did, as though it all fell on her to showcase what such could be. Her will, her identity felt stripped from her, countless voices that called her a whore and worse, constant reminders that she was reaching beyond her station. That she went too far, believing in more than she should when all she was, when all her purpose could ever be, was just to be flat on her back and accepting of her fate.

Another blemish on your soul.

It lasted until she remembered. It tormented her until she recalled. She may have so many misconceptions to fight against, but she fought. She swore an oath. She gave her word. With the fleeting scraps of sanity she begged of her Goddess, recalling her fate that she would be ever faithful, that she would ever be in service. She remembered, giving herself over completely, letting go of the reservations that occasionally still lingered or flared up every time someone made a passing comment or let their gaze stay on her too long.

Her hand closed over a sticky, disgusting glob of bile that her body had expelled, flinging it at the woman with a sense of direction she could never recall possessing. Eyes opened, blazing brightly in their cerulean glory offset by the blood that was smeared over her face like war paint. Her hand snatched up the dagger, the pain of breathing forgotten as she rushed the woman.

Drawn back then forward again, the dagger found a home in warm flesh, stabbing repeatedly. Like a woman possessed; wasn't she though? she attacked, unrelenting in her strikes. She ignored the cries for help, of pain, the begs for mercy. The taint of fire that held to the blade she gave fully to her, her face a twisted thing of confidence, certainty, and righteous fever. It wasn't for minutes later that the strength of insanity finally fled her, leaving her to slump down next to the corpse she made.

Blood stained her arms, splashed across her clothing where it was already stained with bile. It hurt to breath again, each inhale pulled at her but she still could at least. Grasping part of her sleeve still unmarked by her actions she drew it across her eyes, knowing she had to be burning up still. Something was in her system, a poison, a disease. It was going to consume her alive before too much longer.

The Priestess.

Her hand reached, grasping hold of the table top to pull herself back up on her feet. Mechanically she drew on her armor, using the tightness of the breast and backplate to help keep her ribs from feeling too ominous every time she exhaled. Her falchion she retrieved, a moment of debate before setting it aside. Instead, she glanced at the roaring fire that seemed delighted in the carnage. Without thinking her hands grasped the woman's clothing at the shoulders, pulling her corpse to it before she heaved to throw the body in.

"Look at that … fucking bitch … you just got burned … by this damn Venusian…"

Be it the moment, be it the fact the source was being consumed by the flames, but she felt the fires within her calm somewhat. Maybe she was just fooling herself all the same, maybe her mind was playing tricks on her, that it wasn't as bad as it really was. She collected her falchion, leaving the rest of her things where they resided on the table. If she survived, she'd come back for them.

You are a pawn of forces unseen...

A/N: Thanks for the reviews!