Malicia Mortalyss the Merciless Muse

Krystabel sighed as she heard the doors of Saint Trynia's Academy slam open, followed closely by enraged howls from a distinctly non-human throat, demanding that Krystabel show herself. She had known this was inevitable, but had hoped she might have more time to steel herself. A few more weeks would have been nice. Or years.

She picked up her vox unit, and requested that a team of medicae be sent to her headquarters as soon as possible, even as she heard a series of pained high-pitched screams, accompanied by furious stomping getting ever closer to her office. They were probably only flesh wounds, and unpoisoned ones at that. Malicia may be incensed beyond control, but she wasn't a fool, and knew that actually killing anyone she wasn't supposed to would go badly for her.

She checked herself in the mirror positioned beside her desk. If she was going to die today, it would be an insult to Lady Emeli if she looked anything other than fantastic when she finally went to her mistress's side. She then settled back in her chair, and affected a look of sang-froid. Attitude was everything when dealing with the emotionally unstable, and she would definitely class the angry Xenos making her way towards Krystabel's study as that.

The doors to her private sanctum slammed open, the carved wood panelling protesting noisily at such treatment, revealing the alien in question. There was something different about her. Her mask was off, revealing the pale features beneath, but that wasn't it. Her teeth were bared in an uncharacteristic snarl, but that wasn't it either. Ah, perhaps it was the very large single edged sword, which unless Krystabel was much mistaken was called a Klaive, which Malicia was clutching in hands which were trembling with rage… Yes, that was it. The Liberator's Bloodward was a knife girl if ever there was one, big weapons like that just weren't her style.

The incandescent Xenos stalked forward until she was standing in front of Krystabel's desk, brought the blade up over her head with both hands, and with an unrestrained scream brought it down on the desk. It cut right through the aged and hardened wood, despite its disruptor field not being currently on, where it stuck about halfway in. Krystabel looked at the pile of papers which had been cleaved in t'wain by this act of vandalism, and inwardly sighed again. That had taken her hours, she'd have to start from scratch now. Dragging herself back to the here and now, she looked up at the very unhappy Drukhari that was standing in front of her.

"Malicia. What a pleasant surprise. What can I do for you?"

"You… You…"

"Can I offer you a cup of recaff? You seem a touch agitated."

"You… You… Mon'Keigh! I know you are responsible for this! Stop it!"

"Stop what? I'm afraid you have me at a disadvantage."

"Stop it at once! STOP IT!"
The translation device built into Malicia's suit crackled as it was overwhelmed by the volume of her shouting.

"I am afraid you'll have to be a bit more precise Malicia."

"Stop THIS!"

Faster than Krystabel's eye could follow, another xeno blade was stuck in her desk, this one tip first, with a sheaf of paper impaled on it. She'd really liked this desk. Lady Emeli had given it to her back when she was still mortal.

Reaching out, she tugged the knife free, leaving an indent that was already beginning to smoulder from whatever the blade had been soaked in, and gingerly removed the paper. Looking at the cover page, she saw it could've been worse.

"Oh yes, it's a good likeness isn't it? I think the artist has done rather well, and kept it tasteful to boot."

"TASTEFUL?!"

Krystabel looked back down at the booklet. On the front was what in her opinion was a very good depiction of Malicia. She was drawn at such an angle that she appeared to be looking down at the reader (although given she was just shy of 7 foot tall that was hardly unusual) with an expression that could only be described as alluringly disdainful. On her elongated alien features it was striking to say the least. She was wearing the same full body glove she always did, though it somehow seemed a touch more… sheer than normal.

Flipping it open, she leafed through the pages. Yep. Just as she remembered it.

"Nice detail there on the agoniser whip there, you can almost hear it cracking against whoever's back that is. And I don't believe, what are they called, 'mindphase gauntlets?' are supposed to work like that, but it's imaginative. The artist must have made a study of the weapons we captured from your raiding parties during the invasion. Oh look, I think I know that girl who's kissing your boots, she's one of mine, occasionally models for art on the side."

Looking up, she saw a distinct twitch forming on Malicia's already contorted features. Better not to push her any more than she already had, the Eldar was clearly hanging on to her sanity by the skin of her teeth.

"I know what you're thinking Malicia, but I give you my word that although I knew about this I did not start it."

"Then who did? Which degenerate member of your repulsive species is responsible for this… insult?"

"Well, do you remember that manufactorum visit with Lord Cain a few years back? The one when a worker fell over and you… reacted swiftly?"

"I try to expunge such tedium from my mind, as I do all my interactions with your primitive culture, but I believe I know what you are referring to. What of it?"

"It turns out that being on his knees while a very tall and intimidating woman in a tight fitting bodyglove held a knife to his neck was something of a revelation for him. That one encounter quite changed his outlook on life."

"But I am not a 'woman', I am Aeldari!"

"Female then. Anyway, the young man had artistic aspirations, and in you he found his muse (Malicia made a noise that could almost be described as a gag, but which failed to translate). He worked like a canid during his off-shifts, and once he had a workable product he approached one of my sisterhood who specialises in publishing. She saw something that would sell. Thank you by the way, the young man was one of the undecided before he met you, but he's now a full reader in the faith of Slaanesh."

"I care not for the foolish worshippers of She-Who-Thirsts, I demand you put a stop to this immediately before it goes any further! The thought of you repugnant apes daring to fantasise about your betters... I haven't felt this ill since the first time I was poisoned with necroexilir!"

"I'm afraid it's a bit too late for that. It has rather taken off, I couldn't stop it if I tried. This is the third volume from this artist, and at my last count there were about 30 or so more up-and-comers in the same style, with a couple of million dedicated fans. You're really rather popular. And even if I did officially pull it they would just go underground."

Malicia now looked as though someone had force fed her bitterroot in vast quantities.

"It's really not that bad, you're always depicted in your full bodyglove. You used to wear a lot less than that before Lady Emeli… invited you to join our little movement."

"THAT was to display the superiority of my gladiatorial skills, and to impress the audiences in my cult's arena! I would never deign to do so in these inferior surroundings!"

"I doubt it will be any comfort, but I'm pretty certain you will never be approached by any of your admirers. They know that you have a full time job protecting the Liberator from which you cannot be distracted. Frankly, their attitude to you is like someone looking at a comet. They know they'll almost certainly never get close to you or be able to touch you, but they can still admire you from afar and dream of that tiny possibility."

"You are right, it is no comfort at all! It's bad enough that I have been reduced to a slave with threats against my soul, but this additional indignity is beyond the pale! I demand that all these noxious Mon'keighs have their minds wiped of any memory of this!"

"You know full well that isn't going to happen. Look at it this way Malicia, there's now an entire subculture that WANTS you to torment them. You might not be able to go to the depths of soul searing agony that you used to, but it's better than nothing right?"

"If the inferior species ENJOY it, then it's not any FUN! And if you can't use even the most basic poisons or acids or brain warping devices, then what is the POINT?!"

Krystabel thoroughly disagreed with that statement, but she knew there would be no getting through today.

"Well I'm sorry Malicia, but I can't do anything for you. Now, I suggest you go back to your duty of guarding Lord Cain, or I might have to tell my mistress that you're skiving off from protecting her beloved. You wouldn't want her to take issue with you now would you?"

Malicia gave her a glare that would have made a lesser woman quail (or one of her devotees swoon), but Krystabel held firm, merely returning the look with a small smile. With an animalistic snarl, Malicia wrenched her klaive free of the desk, which finally gave up the ghost under the stress, splitting right down the middle, and stalked out.

Krystabel just sighed again, making a note to summon an artisan to see if it could be repaired. She had too many fond memories of both Lady Emeli and Lord Cain invested in (or rather on) this desk to let it go so easily.
In the meantime, she gathered up her scattered and destroyed papers, simply glad that Malicia had been too far up her own fundament to really pay attention to anything else.

She thought she was getting rather good at drawing, and her depictions of the Liberator finally putting that bratty Succubus in her place should make waves at the next Slaaneshi Art Show.