[Journal 2][P][Familiar Dream][Loading...]

Today marked the seventh day. The seventh in a row of training she had, without break, with her father and once more she was knocked to the ground and unlike before, he stopped- “Unbelievable, Velvetine.” He growled in that dark voice, “You haven't won a single time.” She pulled herself from the ground and got to her feet against the pain that shot through her spine and the soreness her body screamed of, “Where is it?” She looked at him, “Where are your mother’s close-combat abilities? Her agility? My mind-range strengths, even my weaknesses, I would approve of seeing!” He demanded and she looked down, “Where are the abilities you got from us? Where are they?”

“I’m sorry-” “Your apologies are as important as you. They won’t save you in a fight.” He thundered over her and she looked back up at him,

“I can’t spend any more of my time… no, I can’t waste any more. I need to return and take the burden off your mother.” He growled as he turned away,

“You’ll still teach me cutting points, right father?” She asked hopefully and he stopped in his tracks at the foot of the staircase leading out of the room,

“No. There’s no point in teaching you anything a Butcher should know.” He turned to her, “Butchers excel in close-combat and mid-range; they are masters of the blade to produce top-quality results and you? You can’t even improve enough to be a wife. I am ashamed to have contributed to your genetics.” He growled with displeasure and left the room, leaving her there.

Her name was Velvetine. She was meant to be a 5th generation “Butcher”- a glorious term and title for people who caught humans, slaughtered them and parted them out to clients who requested pieces, then sold the leftovers on the Black Market. It was uncommon for a female Butcher but those who excelled got the title. Her own mother was a “Butcher Wife”- a genderless title given to those who kept their Butcher safe. They ensured normality and ensured the community within the Butcher’s territory remained ignorant of the danger in their society.

Butchers were meant to specialize in close and mid-range combat… however… Velvetine was far better as a long-ranged fighter. “Clean yourself up and go to dinner, I’m tired of looking at you.” Her father huffed as he vanished up the stairs and not long after she went to her room. She took off her ruined clothes and threw them in her laundry hamper as she turned on the hot water, sighing as she looked at her own reflection.

She had her mother’s deep taupe hair and her mother’s clear complexion. Her skin was chestnut- not dark enough to hide her childish freckles- did not deter her lips from a naturally overly rose color or deter the small darkness beginning to pool in bags under her eyes. Hopefully a hot shower would freshen her up but still- what would remain? Boredom and disappointment. Velvetine wanted the hot waters to wash away her own anger at her failures but that just led to another failure. She had boasted to her father that she had been training well but he had seemed to be letting her win. Maybe he did not approve of her wanting to be a Butcher? Her mother has, at one point, been a shinobi before this life- maybe that would be better? Her boasting has been for nothing and she spent a week getting humility beaten into her. She was furious for overestimating herself so much and underestimating her father so little. He had made her look like a maggot just like all the other low-life, pathetic civilian sheep around them! She dried herself off and pulled on a new pair of clothes then left her room to go to town. Perhaps catching some of the weak and killing them would stave off the boredom for a little while- It would piss off her father and put his livelihood in jeopardy.

[WC: 670]
[ Entry 1 of 3 ]

“She’s not showing any improvement, Momoko.” Her father’s voice arose from the closed doors to their room, wafting through the keyhole and she stopped a bit farther down the hallway to listen, “I don’t know what to do.”

“How could you not push her harder? Had you not held yourself back she might give better results, Augustus.” Her mother’s voice snapped in frustration, “We are short on time-!”

“Would you have me turn Jashin-Sama’s blade on her?” Her father countered, “She won’t give up the one things she is good at…” The air grew heavy with unhappiness and hopelessness as her mother’s voice arose again,

“Perhaps if we pray again, Jashin will hear us and offer his guidance?”

Velvetine descended the staircase leading to the first floor and stopped before a heavy weapon, hanging on the wall. Black of blade and red of handle, a scythe of their religion’s devotion. Her mother had brought in the religion and her father stayed the Butcher; death and destruction, hand in hand, complimenting one another. They were guests at the same feast as well as comrades on the battlefield. And here was Velvetine. She glared at the blade in disdain. Where was her God when she was feeling like a failure? When she was worthless? When she was down? He seemed to only speak to her when she was victorious, how could he be so inconsistent? She took a deep breath as she passed by the door leading to her father’s ‘lab’- a vague term for the room where he worked and parted out client orders and Black Market leftovers. She had sisters. No men other than Father. However, when they came of anointing age, they were given their title and sent out into the world to make their own territory. They stopped being ‘sisters’ and ‘friends’ and became Butchers or Butcher wives and began their own family lines… only remembered as her Father recorded them in the book where he wrote down the family tree. They were allowed to call the house and ask questions and advise- but even that was taboo and against the rules. They were trained and then released into the world like sleeper cell agents.


“Going out?” Her father's voice arose from behind her and she jumped, “A shinobi would know I was here.”

“I-I’m not a shinobi.” Velvetine answered and she turned to face her father. He looked as if he was cut from obsidian; dark of skin and hair, but his eyes were sharp and shone like opals. “I… I need to cool off.” He narrowed his eyes,

“Keep the killing to a minimum… you have no right to lay claim to parts I can use for clients.” Augustus told her and she glared at him, “Don’t get cocky.”

That's what he had said and what did she do? Go hunting. The game was not good, honestly; her father had laid low anyone who could have protected the weaklings in the community, and parted them out early. In their culture it was called ‘Survival of the fittest’ but everyone else called it ‘murder’. Her father was a good Butcher but when there was nothing for comparison it was hard to get off his train of thought. He started with the strong then he moved on to the scum but he left the healthy. Trimming the fat of society was what the Butcher was meant to do to keep up a good ecosystem.

[WC: 600]
[ Entry 2 of 3 ]

So she was left with almost nothing to kill that hadn’t been collected or parted out. She had the fucking wait outside a tavern like a whore, waiting for someone drunk to stumble out. It happened but it was too much, much longer than she wanted. Luring them was not a problem for her; getting them home was. She liked women more but when there was little else, men had to do; perverse, disgusting, worthless men. This time she was in a sour mood and grabbed the drunkard’s arm, pulling him along back to her home through the alleys and side streets rather than a straight course. She led him right into the lab at the house- her parents had gone somewhere.

“A Butcher’s life goes hand in hand with the will of Jashin.” She used to herself as she shoved the drunkard towards the table and he slipped, hitting his head- she sucked her teeth, “How am I supposed to have fun now that he’s half-dead?” She grumbled to herself unhappily as he fell to the floor, blood beginning to pool, “Damn it”.

Once more, Velvetine woke up but this time with a jolt to find herself in her room again- yet another weird dream. She sat back up and grabbed the journal she had previous grabbed and began to jot this one down as well, “Most interesting… I will need to remember to avoid such… mistakes.” She mumbled to herself.

[WC: 242]
[TOTAL WC:  1,512]
[ Entry 3 of 3 ]

[CLAIMS]
[Total WC: 1512]
[Claiming: 30 AP points]
[566 WC towards Seal of Suppression to claim (Mastery)( previously 934/1500),  
Remaining 946 towards Damage Reduction Shield ]

*6-22-2020* These Claims are incorrect WC wise, new updated claims below *

*6-23-2020* Claim edits: *
[CLAIMS]
[Total WC: 1512]
[Claiming 30 AP points]
[ 364 WC towards  Seal of Suppression to claim ( previously 1184/1500) to learn,  
Remaing 1148  WC towards  Seal of Suppression mastery (Half Handseals) ]

Approved

Re-approved