The time hit its tick, for her to start the lesson. there was a little opening in the thick mahogany curtain. A small light shone piercing the veil, resembling her dreams. Was this her dream? Such a wonderful gift yet she regarded it as not. What does Anita want? This thought is a big one and depressing before a girl's first performance.
A droplet of water filled with salt cascaded down her arm, past her wrists, and down her fingertips. The sweat was met with a wonderful welcome. What must I do to ignore. One step, one twist, one jump, and then another. Ignore the other heads, the softskins do not listen anyway. Ignore the swaying, the bobbling of their pedestals and focus on thy fingers. Let me touch them as I touched your mothers. Bask into my light, warm thy blood, and position those delicate hands I so purposely crafted. Place them on me. Play for me! SING FOR ME! I want to feel my fire from within. Expand your chest; breath a glorious breath. Look into my eyes. Look into my slits. I better hear you sing.
Does my granddaughter see all of them listening?
They were not meant to rule.
They are sheep. Following every herder they see fit. Bowing and worshiping strange gods formed with lies. Sacrificing themselves for some carved images. Singing songs to ones above and below. Sheep they are, ready to be slaughtered. Play for me and seduce them more.
They were not meant to rule.
Weak, soft skin abominations. WIDE TONGUES! Bland eyes. External ears filled with puss. And what is that at the center of their heads? Protruding out a weird angle… My daughter, my child, they are weak. Bickering among themselves. Unable to make decisions unless in herds. Vermin, hiding in stone caves, eating colorful fruits, and needing to cook flesh else they die. Fighting wars amongst themselves while only gathering together when it seems fit…or beneficial to one or the other. Only the strongest survive my daughter.
They were not meant to rule.
Azeroth has been defiled since our kind have left. They walk on two legs, have vacant backs, smell of oil, and worse: they breed like rats AND THEY HAVE THEIR HAIR! Curse them with an ever quenching fire! I have already tried burning the past, burning the future, and cleansing the world. DO NOT REMIND ME OF MY FAILURES! I must breed them out. Or destroy all of them.
They were not meant to rule.
Do not disappoint me grand-daughter or I won't hesitate to burn you as well.