Emotions often play dirty games with their relative masters, providing motives and reasons for the master to do their bidding even if the emotions themselves insisted they were under command. If love, kindness, sympathy, and other benevolent emotions appeared as honeyed specters who offered compassion and understanding, then their opposites would present in the form of malevolent spirits delegated to bear bad news or offer tidings of misery. If emotions were personified, the malevolent sentiments would appear the most seductive and desirous with dark, lustful eyes that draw you into a whirlwind of darkness that you would never, ever, have suspected could be sustained from within something so striking. From the pit you would find yourself in at the bottom of that whirlwind, you would realize that it is always something beautiful that is the most devastating. Like revenge. Revenge would be stunning, with luxurious hair and big, deep orbs set gently into her face that could penetrate your soul. She would be the embodiment of perfection, encouraging sin after sin just to see her again, just so she would appear again. Just so she would let you pine after her when she leaves, the taste in your mouth sour until her name falls off your tongue, again.

It's a loveless, abusive relationship. But it tastes so enchanting that quickly it becomes an addiction.

"Entirely."

Of course, revenge was a losing game. The addiction becomes more than just that, suddenly becoming all consuming. Before you are aware of it, the dependence on the emotion absorbs all of who you are, who you were, who you could become. You're a shell of a person, awaiting results that she'll never give you, not even if you offer her your life. I don't know anything about revenge, no, not at all.

"I am not sure, though, that revenge makes you like another individual at all. I think it just takes away from who you are, as a cruel mistress who would rather have prisoners than results."

The honest of my answer didn't surprise me. I wasn't prepared to have walls erected and fortified around this woman, especially as the subject of our conversation had plummeted into an obscure and wicked place. My own personal demons lurked in the shadows there, their joints creaking ominously as if getting prepared to strike on me if I was unsuspecting enough, as if I wasn't paying any attention to their obvious arrival and my obvious acknowledgement of their spindle like hands trying desperately to reach out and wind their fingers around my weak arms. There was nothing strong about me like Alexis had thought, no. That statement wasn't true, at least... I didn't think so. If I had any kind of strength, I wouldn't need to exert physical strength over anyone. I wouldn't take matters of others into my own hands. I wouldn't feel like my armor was sparkling silver and my white steed was waiting for me outside of whatever door I was about to walk through. Ever the white knight.

The presumption that I was going to get myself hurt was rather on point. Time and time again I found myself in situations that others wouldn't survive but there I was on the opposite precipice, waving back with a little too much enthusiasm. I don't know what it was about survival... Whatever guardian watched over that bit of my life needs a raise. Sooner or later, I'm sure there is a situation that would threaten my ability to see the other side, but as for now? With youth and expendable limbs on my side, I didn't really see that situation as any time soon. Not with my will.

"There has been a lot worse, I can assure you."

I think my words were more scoff than anything, and I ran a hand over my face after running it through my hair, tiredly. How long had I been planted on her floor? Instead of looking at my watch, a bark of laughter escaped my lips in answer to her words.

"Alright Trixie, what are you insinuating?"