Until My Venis Run Dry

Bear,

If you ever have hesitations about me, know this: you asked me to write it down, you asked me to remind you when you forget. As you know, there are very few things I wouldn't do that you asked, or, if you don't remember, you will soon know that as fact.

Before we start, a word of warning: Please don't judge me too harshly at the beginning. It was a different time, a worse time. I make no excuses for who I was forced to become, nor the choices I made; after all, they led me to you. Let these pages reflect who I became and who I am now.

You know the years leading up to the war well, so I will just skip to the crucial time: the year the Dollhouse chose me. With the Dollhouse came the Ravens, courageous women who risked everything for the end to finally come. Each carried her own name, her own trials, and her own secrets.

From then on, nothing was simple. Nothing was safe, and everything I thought I knew was tested. That is where we start, though you should know, I start and will always end with you. But you can follow the rest.

Never underestimate a woman. On any given day, her mind is in constant chaos, replaying conversations. Making strategies that only she could fulfill or even comprehend.   But a woman who is angry?  She could doom even a saint, and sometimes, sometimes she is wearing lipstick.

Seraphine was not leaving the Dollhouse. Not without information on where Emma had been taken. She needed a clue. A Raven protects her friends and her sister, and they have already failed twice. They couldn't fail for a third time, not with Emma missing.

The night started with Serphina, Prudy, and Nila moving about the Dollhouse, as if they were one of the dolls that packed the place every night. They had been there an hour under a specially drawn rune on their skin and ignited by their blood to keep them invisible, a notice-me-not rune.  Serphina saw one of the commanders, one who would have the information she needed to find Emma, her sister, a Raven.

She slipped into a corner, avoiding one of the grotesque displays that the Dollhouse was notorious for. She wiped off the rune, replacing it with a mask rune.  Maybe being a redhead would get her the information she needed. Though her body was the same as her face, her hair had changed. Gone were her freckles that ghosted across her face; her wild golden-brown curls were now gone. Where her most distinctive two-tone eyes of seafoam green and honey brown sat, there were now two blue ones.  

Her skimpy black dress was more of a napkin, showing almost everything; it would work. No one would know who or what she was. She slipped back further into the Dollhouse. Her blue eyes now looked at the commander as he took a seat.

Before her approach, she flicked her new face toward her sisters, the other Ravens. A glance, a flip of hair; it was all a code in a place like the Dollhouse. A code of their own that said everything. The two had done as they planned; Prudy stood with a different face from her own. Nila was still invisible with her rune in place. This place was deadly, and any wrong move could kill them.  She tapped on the bangle, Morse Code letting them know she shouldn't take too long. She would get what they needed.

Serphina sharpens her mental walls. She couldn't crumble with what she had to do. The dollhouse was not just for lust; it was a place to steal power, bodies, and blood. She knew the power in using blood in magic, of course, she did; she even used a bit of her own to draw runes and use them, but the occupants of the Dollhouse were corrupted by it. They found that stealing their victim's blood and organs could give them more power and more strength.

Who were the victims of such depravity, women? It was always women; history had established that many times over, and the current war was no exception. They were third-class citizens in the new regime. Serphina pushed through what she saw was happening on the stage. It wasn't just this side, though. The Reapers, yes, they were depraved things of nightmares, more demon than magicians or even men.

The resistance, too, was now using blood, though it was controlled, not whenever they wanted it. It had to be approved to use and not taken, but given freely. Stealing from others in such a way often brought a kind of mania with an evil addiction that turned people into beasts. The Resistance used only blood with runes, and that was what Serphina had figured out. They may have her being a Raven, but her mind was the real gift to the Resistance, though they didn't see it that way.

Even with the Resistance, she was looked down on. Was it because she was a woman? Probably, or maybe it was what she was doing now, coming to the Dollhouse to get their precious intel. Something the Resistance needed desperately. So she and the other Ravens came when they were called. Like a flock of Ravens was called a conspiracy, so were they. They slipped into tiny dresses, heels, and painted faces, risking everything, including their sanity and safety, for the sake of information, and then they were looked down on for their actions.

The Ravens a small group of courageous women who risked their bodies for a war they wanted to end. A sisterhood forged in the depths of depravity. Serphina, as well as her sisters, had one rule: no raven is left behind, and they had failed. They had failed twice already, and now, Emma was missing. The latest of the Ravens to be failed by her three sisters.  

With a deep breath, she looked at the commander, giving him a silky smile, flipping her now red hair for him. Showing off her chest as if she were some prize cow to claim. To use, drain, and rob. Serphina kept her back to the stage; she didn't need to see what horrible acts were being performed tonight.

No, she was there to get information on her sister, Emma. Commander Luke Briggs would give it to her, and his eyes were on her now. She didn't react when his hand slipped under her dress, just a slow breath; she could fall apart later when she had her information for her sisters. When he had her in her lap, she traced the scar on his throat. "What happened here?" Her voice was enticing, seductive.