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Sh'ozak Ma'hk'null · 02-15-2025, 01:50 AM,

//Warning: Contains fanservice for certain FREAKAZOIDS (you know who you are). Happy Valentines.

The process of controlling multiple bodies was far from new to Sh'ozak. However, even though she spent plenty of focus on the doll within the temple, she was more often than not secluded from the people she had collected here. They maintained their own primitive society, a middling line between a meritocracy and a gerontocracy. Whether such a structure was a primary function of living creatures, or whether it was brought on by their proximity to the Slomon K'Hara, who's society was structured roughly the same, was anyone's guess, and also was not her concern.

They occupied the larger complex, filling halls that were once empty with a lively shuffle, whereas she occupied a hall in the center, which she decorated and redecorated with arts in hundreds of forms. Having a will that extended far beyond cause and effect had created a necessity for an outlet of expression. The humans she had collected also engaged in artworks, as well as a very curious mysticism. A few had broken through the barrier of their own perception, briefly grazing the melodies of Sh'ozak's own mind, and upon confirming their thesis with Sh'ozak herself, now spent most of their time in the inner cloister, meditating. Their peers elevated them, touting them as sacred individuals, and their meditation was regarded as an activity paramount for the small society. Other important activities were the creating of artworks themselves, lesser meditations, and the development of a precise geometrical study of the crystal lattice that this temple was built of, among other things. It was interesting to Sh'ozak to watch what was measured as merit in this meritocracy.

Although, those were not the highest among these humans. The highest currently accompanied her in her gallery. The five who made up her honor guard. Earlier, they had demonstrated the interesting extents of human fanaticism, one voicing the wishes of three to have restrictions to their bodily functions. She had, at first, complied in a non-permanent fashion, and one of the men bore a silver and platinum chinstrap, with the relief of a multitude of hands molded into it. Hands supporting hands, reaching from his neck, around his jaw, up to cover his ears, deafening him. One of the women had a blindfold of the same design, hands upon hands to cover her eyes, blinding her. And finally, that woman, the first one she had approached in the cells. Again, the relief of hands, this time forming a mask, muting her. The other two among the honor guard, two of the pirates who were captured and had arrived here first, had dedicated themselves to speaking to Sh'ozak and speaking to the rest of the humans, respectively. In this moment, the one who spoke to Sh'ozak was clarifying their petition.

"Our Tender Divinity, in our studies, we have seen that in deprivation, we are allowed a greater grasp of what we are not deprived of. That is our goal, to further our meditation on the aspect and archetypes of being your honor guard. To perfect ourselves in your service." Sh'ozak tilted her head inquisitively. This pirate, when she first was captured, was not nearly so articulate in her speech.
"And it shall only be these three?"
"Indeed. The role of these three are that of "Visages". Candela, Blinded Visage, Roderick, Deafened Visage, and Claire, Muted Visage."
"And the two of you shall be?", Sh'ozak asked, gesturing to the two pirates.
"I shall be Isadora, Ambassador unto Death, and he shall be Gabriel, Ambassador unto Man."
"And my creations for you were not sufficient for this task?" All of them but Isadora twitched slightly at this question.
"No, not for our purpose." The rest of the group shot panicked glances at Isadora, but before any of them could interject, she continued: "We shall retain your creations, as they telegraph clearly the nature of our Visages. However, they who have felt the mind of Death have given us a mantra to adhere to. Devotion leads to sacrifice, leads to Death. As honor guard, our devotion is shown. In the loss of our corruption, sacrifice bringing us to Death is shown. We seek to sacrifice further."
Sh'ozak quietly pondered the request. She skimmed the intents of the gathered humans telepathically, but found nothing out of the order.

"Very well. Approach."

The group seemed to breath a quiet sigh of relief, and the first to approach was Roderick. He knelt before her, unclasping the chin brace that deafened him, and bowed his head. Upon touching his face, Sh'ozak was able to form a minor mindlink. He was unafraid, determined. She had seen such attitudes before, in the Order. It was an interesting juxtaposition, such a resolved dedicated to serving her, rather than destroying her. Small tendrils issued from Sh'ozak's fingers, burrowing through the space between the top of his lower jaw and the bottom of his ear. Over the course of only a few seconds, she undertook the complex procedure of removing the chain of bones that allowed him to hear while maintaining and sealing those that governed his ability to balance in opposition to gravity. Finishing, she pulled the tendrils out, using the same method to repair the damage they had accrued in the prison on Altair to seal the entry wounds. She nodded to him, as he could no longer hear, and then spoke to the others. "Next."

The one named Candela approached. She knelt, and upon touch, Sh'ozak again formed a mindlink. She was afraid. Afraid of pain, from many potential sources, and so Sh'ozak grabbed her face, and had her look at the tendrils. "Observe", she commanded. "I secrete a sterilizing solution. You will not rot." The reassurance was blunt enough that Candela failed to put together that her mind was being read before the tendrils dove into her temples and crawled towards her eye sockets. It was a cold, numb sensation, as Sh'ozak had included an anesthetic to calm her fears. Severing and sealing the optic nerves was a much easier process than the reconstruction of the inner ear that Roderick required.

Finally, Claire. Despite not being accustomed to body language, Sh'ozak could see that she was nervous. Or, perhaps apprehensive? "If you hesitate, do not continue. If you are to continue, do not hesitate." Claire shook her head, and quickly knelt. Just like the others, a mindlink was formed. She was not afraid. She was not determined, either, at least, not in the same way as Roderick was. She desired. She desired deeply the pain that Candela feared. Through this partially shared perspective, Sh'ozak watched her from her own perspective, observed her admiration for the cold, unfeeling blue eyes of the goddess that lived among them. That goddess was Death, and so it was only rational that she desired to be close to death, as close as was possible. Approving of her reasoning, if not the specifics of her desires, Sh'ozak grasped her face and held it up to her own, disallowing Claire the ability to look away both physically and psychically. If you liked these eyes so much, then drown in them. Claire was delighted to comply.

Sh'ozak was almost given pause at the strange list of whims presented before her, but nonetheless obliged. She loosed the tendrils from her back once again, and used them to restrain Claire. They crisscrossed over her legs, pressing into her skin and tying her to the floor. Sh'ozak slid her hands down to Claire's throat, ready to begin the operation, but Claire seemed to have other ideas in mind. More out of curiosity than obligation, Sh'ozak conceded to Claire's desire, slipping her fingers beneath Claire's skin, and then through muscle, squeezing her throat directly. Remembering that she still had a task to complete, Sh'ozak suddenly burrowed the tendrils from her hands into Claire's vocal chords and trachea, disconnecting some muscles, removing others, and stitching apart still more, removing her ability to vocalize but retaining the ability to breathe. Claire spasmed briefly in reaction to the sensation of these small tendrils filling and crawling across the entirety of her throat, choking her with an intense tingle that viciously slithered down into her lungs and as far up as her tongue. However, she was still tightly bound to the floor in a manner that barely allowed her to move, and so she simply struggled helplessly until the process was finished.

After Claire had relaxed again, Sh'ozak removed her hands and tendrils from her flesh, sealing the wounds as expertly as she had every other. Claire was nearing unconsciousness, but with whatever thoughts she was still able to form, she reached up and hugged Sh'ozak's waist, and proceeded to pass out in that position. The final thoughts shared from Claire were the obsessive compliments on the smoothness and softness of Sh'ozak's body, an admiration so pure, complete, and heavy that it obstructed Sh'ozak's own thoughts for a moment. Had the sacrifice of her voice granted her a voice of a different nature? The appearance of a loud silence was certainly a new addition to the antics of the temple.

Isadora finally spoke up. "Our Revered Matron, if you would excuse her impulse. Her dedication takes a different shape than ours."
"I don't mind. You can touch me too, if you wish."
Isadora laughed. "I would not dare. If you would please care for her until she awakes."
Sh'ozak nodded, using her tendrils to wrap up Claire. She proceeded to carry her out of the hall and towards the throne in the inner cloister, across the garden from where the fervent meditators resided. "It is no problem to me. Continue as you do. When she awakens, I will send her to you."
"Your mercy is great indeed."

With that, the other four bowed, and then retreated towards the outer cloister. Sh'ozak sat on the stone throne, and placed Claire at her feet, quickly weaving a few layers of silk to place between her and the stone of the throne and it's foundation. As she rested, Sh'ozak began to contemplate whether it was body, mind, or spirit that drove Claire to these strange desires.

And while she pondered, tranquility returned to the Temple of Merciful Death.

Behold, The Deathguard.

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