Triginta Tres wasn’t always like this. The thought reverberated through her chaotic mind, as she laid under a tree in the middle of her island prison. To some it may be pretty, picturesque even. But it was really just a small hill and the area around it was flooded with water, by the herd who resided in the area. Triginta Tres wasn’t always afraid of water. The thoughts only added to her rage, a rage she was forced to endure. Rage, insatiable hunger, fear of water, her body made hideous by curse burns, rune scars and eyes black as pitch.
A loud shrieking roar tore out of her throat and she lashed out at the tree. The wood splintered as her paw struck it, but the tree stood diligently. It’s prideful stance made her more angry and she struck it again. The tree remained standing and Trigs let out a ragged sigh as she backed away from it. Her life had not always been this. Imprisoned, cursed, ugly. In fact, Trigs was once beautiful, powerful, desired by males, hated by females, and feared in a different way. And she wasn’t called Triginta Tres. She was called Narcissa DeVoy.
Before the curse, Narcissa had beautiful pale fur and silky blonde mane and tail. Her eyes were a crystal clear blue that could ensnare or intimidate another. Narcissa enjoyed the finest things in life, the best floral waters for her fur, the best hoof spun fibers to drape over her body, the most beautiful jewelry to adorn her head. She carried herself with dignity and her head high… regal even. She never passed up the chance to admire herself in a reflective surface and always loved to flirt and tease the males. They seemed to fall at her feet, hoping she’d pick one of them to keep her company in the night. Narcissa had no loyalty to anyone but herself, whatever she wanted she would get and pleasure was her’s but so was pain as they went hand in hand.
When she was young, Narcissa was promised to a well off stallion by her parents. But even by then she had made somewhat of a name for herself, despite being pure. The stallion she was promised to saw her as merely a trophy to take out and show off to his friends and then keep in a gilded case all for himself. As much as Narcissa abhorred the idea of being treated like property, she didn’t fight it and went along with it. But much to her betrothed’s dismay, he only ever got to look and not touch while she played with any male she could lure in. Before her encounter with the witch who cursed her, Narcissa had many lovers, notoriety and at least one dead lover from her over exuberant play.
The night she was cursed was the annual masked ball her husband would hold for all the higher ups. Narcissa was dressed in her finest and many a wife wished her ill as she cast a smile towards their husbands, husbands she already had a taste of by now. She was on the prowl for something special for the night as she had been bored for too long. Her husband had long grown use to his wife’s desires and needs and gave up the notion of every having her to himself. But he still longed for her attention one day, like any other poor male in her path. As the evening waned, Narcissa had grown tired of the party. Nothing new was to be found there as she had tasted everything to offer and mares held no interest for her.
It was then, as Narcissa stood to the side of the dancing platform, that an older mare approached her. The mare was clearly not of the higher ups, but a low born mare. She was skinny and was covered in a threadbare cape full of holes. Despite all that, she was washed and her hair combed and braided out of the way. Narcissa still looked down her nose at the low born mare regardless.
“My my… how beautiful you are,” the old mare said in a soft voice.
“Can I help you?” Narcissa asked cooly.
The old mare pondered her words before replying.
“I hope my son and his death was worth it.”
“Excuse me?” Narcissa narrowed her eyes.
“Although, I’m not entirely sure it was worth it for my son… to loose his life over someone so vain and narcissistic as you.”
“I think it’s time you left, crone,” Narcissa hissed.
“Tell me, was your first lover a star like you?”
Narcissa paused and looked taken aback by this question. She blinked at the old mare a few times.
“Uh… no. He was a sidron alcor slave.”
The crone smirk suddenly, “Then this will make it all worth while.”
Narcissa balked as the crone suddenly leaped at her, and from her cape threw a uncorked bottled of fresh blood at her face. Blood coated Narcissa’s face temporarily blinding her and her hooves slipped in spilled blood, she collapsed to the ground shaking her head. She shouted for help but none came as low chatting flowed over her ears. The crone was casting a spell in a language Narcissa did not understand. The blood suddenly snaked and flowed over her face and down her body, it burned and squeeze her. Her fur smelt burnt, the colored browned and charred. Suddenly sigils appeared like hot brands on her shoulders and hips.
A scream ripped from Narcissa as she struggled against the blood which had become like chains around her body. Pain ripped through her as her hair fell out in clumps, her feet, tail and face mutated hideously. Rage and a deep seated hunger filled her body and mind, she threw her head back and let out a shrieking roar that had everyone cringe. The crone had gone quiet, but Narcissa could hear her breathing...loudly in her ears. She could hear everyone breathing, muttering, crying...any sound was amped up. Narcissa felt hot tears flow down her cheeks like slow molten lava. But it was red liquid that fell from her face and it burned, causing her cry more. The pain in her body had cooled but didn’t depart, every joint ached. The world was dark but she could see rainbow like spots shaped like the other stars. What was wrong with her eyes? And what was that smell? Fear? Adrenaline? It tasted… good on the back of her tongue. Why did she crave it?
Narcissa stretched out her limbs. They felt heavy, achy, throbbing with heat but she pushed through it and rose to her feet. Looking down, she noticed that she was not colorful like the others. She looked...cold? And she had paws with long claws but her back feet remained hooved. Her glorious mane and tail lay in hanks of hair around her and from her rear grew a long lizard like tail, covered in the burnt brown fur that covered the rest of her. Her soft pale fur was destroyed and stained by the blood thrown at her. She felt those blasted acid tears flow down her cheeks again and rage ignited through her body and she screamed, but the sound was more like an otherworldly shrieking cry.
The crone began to cackle loudly. Fear did not course from her but a smug gleefulness. Narcissa turned towards her and bared her teeth.
“This is what you deserved for killing my son for your own pleasure. You now look as you do on the inside. Everyone will know how rotten you are,” the crone hissed at her.
Something inside Narcissa snapped and she leaped at the crone, her teeth wrapping around the mare’s throat. Hot blood spurted around her mouth and Narcissa bit down harder before shaking the crone, tearing her throat out. Screams erupted from the guests and chaos ensued as everyone stampeded to get away from the beast now in their midst. Narcissa dropped the dead mare to the ground and looked around. The fear and adrenaline sweetened the air, she panted, taking in more of the flavors onto her tongue.
That night many died, the bodies laid haphazardly in a gory mess. Narcissa stood amongst the carnage, head lowered as she breathed deeply. She was appalled by what she had done, as if she had no self control over anything. Her body burned, her mind raged, her stomach screamed for more, but her spirit retreated into a small space deep inside and wept. Wept for the loss of her beauty, her control, her dignity and her freedom.
Over time, Narcissa earned the name Triginta Tres and her birth name became lost to the cosmos. While she isn’t know to massacre often, she is well known for them; the one after she was cursed, the one that lead to a great war with the sidrons and the one after her fall where she decimated lupin alcors. The singles rarely have been brought up. The pain of the curse never fully went away, it haunts her every step. While that may be, she still looked for her usual pleasures where she could find them, some small “joy” in a sea of pain and torment. But her lovers this time where not always so lucky and most ended up dead like the old crone’s son.
Narcissa learned that her eyesight was changed so that she could only see heat signatures except her own, which had completely vanished after her first rampage. She also learned that her first lover was absolutely terrified of water. Thanks for nothing, she thought to herself. And that she took on his fear from his blood that was used to curse her. She learned that the old crone killed him for his blood too. But as she had killed the crone, the way to undo the curse was lost to her. At least that is what she thought. She ate her way through other witches trying to find a way to free herself from it, hoping to one day be beautiful again.
Triginta Tres gave up on that silly hope a long time ago. Her world was forever dark, foul and hell; she looked over at the water surrounding her. And full of this crap.
