He was a scholar. There was nothing more that he asked from life than to be able to give and gain knowledge. It was what he lived, what he breathed. It was all of the thoughts that filled his head and everything that he did. There was nothing more, and nothing less, than knowledge.
Without knowledge, you couldn't survive. You couldn't eat. Couldn't drink. Sleep. You couldn't even sleep without knowledge.
But he had gotten sick, Maat had, of trudging about with only the dense friends of Dawnhawk's to share with. Of course, he could try and teach them what he knew, but none of them truly appreciated it. Perhaps the Kuhna Veridian would listen to him once and a while, but he probably knew more about magic than the Imeut could tell him. And, naturally, Maat understood more than just magic, but he had vowed to never share more than was asked of him, and Veridian needed no more.
Maat sighed inwardly. He did not particularly enjoy recalling that day, but he couldn't stop himself as the memories swirled within his head, begging to be let out.
~~~
She had let him in. When she opened the door of her home, she was opening the door to her mind as well.
She had been in love.
He was, most probably, more attractive than Maat. But Maat couldn't help it. Back then, if he saw someone in pain, he would try to lift it. So it wasn't as if his motives were impure; it was just that she was asking only something that he didn't want to give.
She wanted him to give away the little piece of his soul that he had not reserved for her. The Imeut had it under lock and key, and he kept it in a place where he thought that no one would ever look. And even if they did look, they would never recognize it.
Her name was Firabi. He thought that she was broken, but she had never cared for her lover at all.
He thought that that lover was the first, but she knew the story differently than she had said before.
He thought that she was sweet and pure, but she kept her truth as hidden as he kept his.
He thought that, despite the odds as he stacked them, she really was falling in love with him.
I suppose you can figure out the way that she saw it.
So Firabi drew him in, with her little touches and fleeting embraces. And she knew that he actually believed all of her lies, because he was not so wise back then. She was smarter than him, knew how to use her knowledge better than he.
And she almost won.
She had him there, in her bed, defenseless in human form. The Blood Hollowheart wanted to be an enchantress, wanted to test out her powers on him. And Maat was too young and naive to truly understand.
It was almost stolen. You know what I'm talking about. You just think that rape can't work that way.
It can, and it very nearly did that day, in that white room, on those violet satin sheets.
Maat almost smiled, later, upon realizing how very similar violet is to violent. Almost.
But Firabi wouldn't be able to. She had her face ripped off.
And who can smile without lips?
It was his fault. Maat would always think so, place the blame upon himself instead of the true culprit.
He just didn't want to doubt her innocence so much.
Okay, okay, so things are not, perhaps, as clear as they should be. Would you like me to make the same mistake as Maat had, give the wrong kind of information out to unwilling ears? I wouldn't like that. So, if you've come this far and you don't want to know, please look away. Go back. Don't read this account.
Things are always worse from the dragon's mouth, aren't they? And I am the only one fit to scribe around here.
What, did you think that I wouldn't be allowed to write my own story? I would speak it, but there are no ears to listen.
I am alone. Recovering. From what? I'll tell you, now.
Firabi lured me into her house on the pretense that I had to 'take care of something' for her. You know that I didn't understand anything that came from that stripper's mouth, so I didn't object.
Oh yeah, didn't you figure out that she was a stripper?
She used binds on me, tied me to her bed and told me that she was going to take what she had wanted from the start, even if I wouldn't give it to her. Just like that. Easy as juicy, stupid Imeut pie.
In my rage, I warped back into my Imeut form and slashed her pretty little head in two, severed that pretty little face from that pretty little skull and watched as the pretty little blood poured from the pretty little wound that I left open.
I didn't even wait until I got home to scour that shit from my claws. I burst my way outside in typical monster fashion: through the wall. And I thrashed in the puddles on the tar until every last moleule of her acid was rid from my hand.
Or perhaps it was only a hand again when she no longer marred it.
Long story short, I killed her under my own power, and abandoned the human form I had loved so much because of her. And now, to get away from it all, he had come to Craiss Caverns, if only to end with more knowlegde than he had come with. Perhaps he would even find someone with a love for knowlegde akin to his own...
{owo I love my Maat-kun. He's my baybay. But I really need to develop his character... Already, this post is different than the first time I tried writing it. a.e So if you'd like to join my crazy RP, you might want to PM me first. I mean, I think I'd like to do this alone even if Maat-kun wasn't in Craiss because that's where Akail are. Ohhel, I'm having an affair with this wall. Right here. -snogs and is dead-