Isekai, Go Home! An Anti-Isekai, Isekai Fantasy Inquisition Quest

Articles on Faith - The Creator Pantheon II, Amoroa and Ishtar


SB Content Warning: This post contains material that may be seen as offensive. It includes reference to such topics as rape, homophobia, transphobia and general sexuality. This post has been approved in Content Review prior to posting, however even with this approval, it must be understood that this is a strong topic, and as such if it creates discussion, posters must take due care in their posting, or otherwise I will have to do so for them. This exists as an in-universe description, and should not be taken as endorsement outside of the story.


Articles on Faith - The Creator Pantheon II
Excerpts from Intermediate Comparative Theology, a textbook used in several magical schools of the Continent, including the Academy of Light

The Creator Pantheon’s first and second Goddesses of Love, Amoroa and Ishtar, despite both being deities of the same aspect, are as similar as day and night. This is unsurprising, for before the War in Heaven, Ishtar was exclusively the Archdemoness of Lust of the Demonic Pantheon. Since the War in Heaven and Amoroa’s death by the swords of Katsuro the Destroyer, the Queen in Heaven, Enin, desperate to hand the True Affinity of Spirit to a divine entity, else risk the end of the universe, handed the Wardenship of Spirit to Ishtar, and she joined the Creator Pantheon as the new Goddess of Love.

Amoroa

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The former Goddess of Love, Amoroa. Born from the divine union of Eon and Enin, she was entrusted with wardenship of the True Affinity of Spirit, and through the births of her and Reavanna, it was possible for the forms of sapient life made by the other gods to be bestowed with true intelligence.

Amoroa was said to be a kind and gentle deity, with deep empathy for people, and often felt strong empathy and attachment to her faithful. She is known to have intervened personally in personal tragedies of even peasants and outcasts, and took great care in aiding those seeking or having obtained true love. A pacifist, she avoided all forms of violence and combat, though as her sister Reavanna was the Goddess of War, she avoided outright condemning warfare as part of her faith.

It is said that thousands of years ago she fell in love with a mortal man. This man died, as all mortals must, and her sorrow over his passing led to her swearing to be eternally faithful to his memory, as well as her creation of the Soul Bond, a magical binding which binds the fates of two souls together along with providing numerous great boons such as immortality so long as both live and feel true love for one another – created so others could avoid her own fate. Thus was Amoroa titled The Joiner of Souls. While Amoroa herself is gone, some immortals with this sacred bond still remain, however their immortality is fading as the residual powers of Amoroa vanish across the world.


BELIEFS


Amoroa greatly favoured monogamy and faithfulness between lovers, and so saw harems as immoral and hedonistic. Societies that greatly venerated Amoroa, particularly those in the Far-West and South-West, as such are considered highly monogamous societies. Amoroa shared her mother Enin’s dislike of infidelity, and it was one of the few ways to incur the wrath of Amoroa, though usually never to the extent of Enin.

As well as faithfulness, Amoroa placed great value in chastity and abstinence, believing intimacy should only be to those partnered with one another and not before or outside of such. She generally had great distaste for overt or excessive sexualisation and promiscuity, seeing such as immoral. Amoroan Priestesses wore crowns of lilies and other flowers with white veils, and were expected to be virgins and celibate for life.

Amoroa greatly valued aesthetics and beauty, a belief shared with her replacement, Ishtar, however she favoured graceful and subdued beauty compared to Isthar’s embrace of exaggerated and offensively sexual beauty. The concepts of “Inner Beauty” and “Inner Ugliness” are of Amoroan creation, and are often used in religious conflicts between Amoroan and Ishtari faithful. Far-Western Civilizations, particularly the former colonies of the Celestial Empire of Mu, are renowned for following Amoroa’s standards of beauty, with it being desired for men and women to both be highly androgynous and graceful in appearance, and with very small sexual organs on both men and women. The virtue of these standards are spread by extreme Amoroan factions known as “Flat Cults,” which are particularly popular in nations such as Celestial Eidolon and as its namesake suggests, Celestial Amoroanine. In these same societies, large sexual organs in men or women are considered sinful and hedonistic, as they are signs of Ishtar’s blood corruption, to the point that some Flat Cults will resort to violence upon seeing them. Despite the claims of some Ishtari propagandists and wishful Isekai, Flat Cults are devoted to slim women with slight features, not children, which even in those lands is considered obscene.

The Yowees of the Celestial Empire of Mu were considered to be closely aligned with Amoroa, and some believe they still are even after her death, although there is no way to know following Mu’s retreat into total isolation following the final loss of its colonies in the Far-West. The remnant of Amoroanite worship in the Central Kingdoms is found in the Schismatics of Wachstaat, Catatonia, and the Southwest of the Continent, who deny that Amoroa died in the War in the Heavens.

Amoroan-influenced cultures tend to be adverse to contraception, such as through the “demon herb” Silphium. Amoroa herself never made known her thoughts on the matter, however Amoroan believers developed this belief due to the connection between Silphium and Ishtar’s hedonism. Some scholars suspect Amoroa was actually in favour of it, due to seeing relationships as being orientated around love, not the need for procreation. This would indeed be made further ironic by the fact that while Ishtari followers often make use of Silphium, Ishtar herself is known to be against it as an aberration against her command for fruitfulness in relationships.

Amoroa, in stark contrast to Ishtar, was not only tolerant of, but an advocate for, couplings between the same sex, as well as the embrace of androgyny between the sexes, suggesting it may have even been considered a purer and more exalted form of love. While Amoroa’s faith in the Central Kingdoms does not take to the extremes of Mu in this matter, it is the Amoroan faithful’s belief that so long as love is chaste, faithful, and monogamous, it does not matter who those two lovers are. With Amoroa’s death and her replacement, Amoroan cults and churches generally rejected Ishtar’s new dictates, including on this matter, to the point that a major contribution to the Bruderkrieg conflicts was this changing of the guard. Numerous churches, such as the Schismatics, the Southern Church of Origin, the Far-Western Flat Cults, and the Celestial Amoroanine Cult, all reject Ishtar and continue to worship the deceased Amoroa, believing that she was not killed, only rendered comatose, and will someday rise from her sleep to bless her devoted followers.

While this fact is often left out of modern day preaching, Amoroa herself was said to be comparably tolerant of Isekais in the days before the War in the Heavens, and even aided Isekais in their own quests at times. There is even a tale in the Yankeevine Empire that Amoroa herself appeared before The Yankee to bless his marriage to Aamu “Amy” Fjardísdóttir, the Northern Shieldmaiden. Amoroa’s faith was popular in the Yankeevine Empire for some time but slowly died out as Amoroa became more estranged from Isekais as they increasingly embraced harems. It is unknown what Amoroa thought of Isekais when Katsuro the Destroyer beheaded her during the War in Heaven, however it is known that she did not defend herself, only pleaded with her murderer to turn back from his course before it was too late. Amoroa died childless.

SUNDERING

Following Amoroa’s death at the hands of Katsuro the Destroyer, the True Affinity of Spirit was briefly unshackled and partially unleashed upon the world, alongside the other affinities of the dead gods slain by The Destroyer. These unleashed True Affinities, being inherently chaotic entities whose mere freedom ensures the unmaking of the entire universe by returning them to the primordial chaos at the beginning of all things, unleashed great destruction before The Gods could reshackle them with new wardens.

While not nearly as destructive as the True Affinity of Water, whose release is said to have resulted in the deaths of at least twenty million souls and the catastrophic sinking of the Realm of the Sea-dwarves, the effects of the rampage of the True Spirit can still be felt today. Across the whole of the world, madness, murderous rage, delusion, selfishness, suicide, melancholy, and a host of other diseases of the mind wracked the peoples of all nations… and even nearly a century later, even as the True Spirit is shackled again, its pernicious influence can be felt as aftershocks.

Following the defeat of Katsuro the Destroyer, in an effort to prevent the inevitable apocalypse from the unleashed True Affinities, Enin made a deal with the Demon Pantheon. As only a divine entity could hold a true affinity captive, and only one per divinity, Enin was forced to give the Archdemons the fallen gods’ affinities, finally empowering them to their equals. As such, Ishtar would be given the Wardenship of True Spirit.

RELATIONS

Amoroa is known to have been close to her mother, Enin. With her sister Reavanna she had a more complex relationship, as while they loved one another as sisters do, they were also quite dissimilar. Amoroa was known to have been deeply in love with a mortal man who died thousands of years ago, whose name is believed to have been Endymion, though it is uncertain if this was truly his name or an apocryphal creation long after. Amoroa was known to be an adviser for the first Empress of Mu, is believed to have met The Yankee, and was a renowned and persistent archenemy of Ishtar, as they saw each other as morally repugnant. The current Saint-Empress of Celestial Amoroanine, Amaris de Isobel, claims to be the mortal reincarnation of Amoroa, however this is rejected by all outside of the Amoroanine Cult.

Amoroa is affiliated with numerous things. Unicorns are considered sacred to Amoroa, being a creature that only permits virgins to ride it, and the “Eyes of the Unicorn,” a power that enables those with it to see the purity and innocence of the observed, is said to be linked to her. Virgins were said to be specially blessed by her, and while she lived she often gave them special boons. The fragrant lily is Amoroa’s sacred flower. Rainbows are often associated with Amoroa. The tropical Pineapple fruit is also associated with Amoroa, particularly in the Far-West and Mu.

The act of hand-holding is sacred amongst Amoroans. Amoroans often weave flowers into their hair and wear chaste clothing that avoids bringing attention to sexuality.


ISHTAR


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Ishtar, as in her human form. The obscenity of her true Demon Form is not for the faint of heart.

The current Goddess of Love, Ishtar. Born from the rape of the Goddess of Nature, Laaeshan, by the Traitor God, Sarut. The current Warden of the True Affinity of Spirit following Amoroa’s death. Prior to her ascension to the Creator Pantheon, she was – and still is – the Archdemoness of Lust in the Demon Pantheon, where she is worshipped as The Carnal. As the Creatorist Goddess of Love, she is called The Spark of Passion, or She Who Sparks Passion. While Sarut is the progenitor of the Demon, Monstrine, and thus indirectly the Demihuman races, Ishtar’s multi-millennia-long escapades have led to a significant minority of the world’s population descending from her in some manner, with most of the demon and monstrine races claiming descent from her, and many of the Central Kingdom humans, especially in the Southeast regions of the Continent such as Astem and Tourine.

Ishtar is said to be strong-willed, vain, fickle, and fun-loving, with a love of festivities and frolics. She is known to be one of the most interventionist of the gods, having appeared in the physical realm more than any other deity, though often for very petty reasons revolving around her own amusement or pleasure, or simply to observe mortals personally – again for her own amusement. She has had many, many, many relationships with mortal men over millennia, usually rulers and aristocrats who have proven to be highly masculine and attractive or achieved great feats of might. Of the brave few who had rejected her advances, immense woe and suffering befell them, as a warning to all others.

While not a proper War Goddess, she is a connoisseur of conflict and struggle, and enjoys spectating great battles, massacres and duels for entertainment. The Gladiator Coliseums of the Demon Empire are partially devoted to her, alongside Vaughst the Archdemon of Wrath, and champion gladiators that impressed her have been known to be rewarded most intimately. Ishtar, rarely, if at all, engages in combat herself. She has, however, at times instigated rivalries and even wars out of boredom. She is a patron of many great warriors and leaders of war, and favourites are at times given boons for good performance on the battlefield as well as in the bedroom.

Ishtar has had countless lovers and consorts over millennia, including hundreds simultaneously, and birthed more demi-god children than all of the other gods and archdemons combined. She leaves them on the steps of their fathers’ houses, or the steps of her temples, before moving on to the next mortal that pleases her. The sheer number of demi-gods birthed by her has become so renowned that the concept of a Demi-god itself is tied to Ishtar. Demi-gods are known to be highly powerful Nephilim and Eliouds, with enough power that some have been known to fight against an Isekai by themselves and come out triumphant.

BELIEFS

Ishtar greatly favours polygamy and polyandry, and sees harems as an ideal whose failure to pursue – or rejection of – is immoral. Societies where Ishtar has great influence are non-monogamous, with most being both polygamous and polyandrous – though some only pursuing polygamy or polyandry depending on the established gender politics of the region. The Demon Empire permits vast harems for both genders, however polyamorous relations from the lesser-status harem members are forbidden – harem owners themselves are permitted to pursue outside of the harem. Promiscuity is generally considered desirable, as Ishtar herself is.

Ishtar generally speaking has faithfulness oriented around power, although the tenets of her faith have no moral investment in relationship fidelity. Lesser members of a harem are expected to be faithful while the owner is not. If a lesser member is unfaithful, this is not considered immoral as they are only expected to seek out opportunities if given the chance, but rather a challenge of authority and dishonour to the harem head who cannot control his or her mate. This challenge can result in deadly ceremonial conflict, or simply punitive punishments. In the Demon Empire, adultery tends to be punished in the opposite way to the Central Kingdoms; a child of cuckoldry is punished – often by death, but sometimes by being sent to Ishtari temples – rather than the perpetrator of the act. This is actually condemned by Ishtar, since she is a Goddess of Fertility, however the law is implemented and enforced by the cults of Ishtar’s siblings, particularly the Archdemons of Wrath, Envy and Pride.

Ishtar puts enormous importance on aesthetics and beauty, in particular sexual appeal. Ugliness is considered one of the two primary evils of Ishtari belief, along with prudery, and all of her faithful should aspire towards beauty both of themselves and their surroundings. What defines beauty in Ishtari faith is hotly debated, with numerous schools of thought endlessly arguing over the finer points, however Ishtar herself tends to favour the highly sexualized and physical, with an emphasis on hyper-masculine males and hyper-feminine females, and detests androgyny and small sexual organs as ugly. Ishtar does accept that beauty can be gained, so while it is sinful to be ugly, it is possible to be rewarded with boons granting greater beauty in exchange for sufficient pursuit of beauty, beautification, success in other values of Ishtar, or even intense enough desire. Even the hideous can be saved.

Intense desire for, passion in, and practice of carnal pleasure is desirable in Ishtar’s faith. While an overwhelming pursuit of hedonism and happiness in life is more closely associated with Gaumat of Gluttony, Ishtar is quite close to her unwieldy brother and also promotes more general hedonism outside of carnality. That said, Ishtar will forsake those who pursue hedonism to the point of forsaking beauty or desire altogether. Ishtar does not believe in the concept of “marriage” except within the understanding of the Harem. Ishtar accepts intimate acts before marriage and does not recognize betrothal exclusivity. She does recognise Harem exclusivity to an extent, but only out of pragmatism, not morality. Intimate relations outside of marriage or the Harem is acceptable for the Harem owner. Prudishness is considered the second great evil of Ishtari faith. Excessive clothing is deemed offensive, and celibacy is seen as a great moral failing. Chastity is accepted only as a matter of power and pragmatism rather than morals. Ishtar herself often commits many adulterous affairs and births bastards, however anyone who cheats on her is doomed to a most painful fate.

Despite the circumstances of her birth and the views of the now deceased Demon God Sarut, Ishtar rejects rape. The act of rape is in essence considered an act of dishonour and an aberration born of the failure of lust to manifest properly, as only an ugly and weak creature could resort to it for being unable to seduce another into willingly accepting an advance. Aggressive attempts at seduction, catcalling, and manipulativeness in the service of said seduction, are accepted to various degrees. While slavery is legal in the Demon Empire, sexual slavery is illegal as it is considered inherently rape, so while chattel slaves may be sent to the mines, them being found in the bedroom can lead to severe consequences. All lesser Harem members as such must be free members of society, and are permitted to leave the harem at any time, though in practice this may result in honour duels or loss of reputation.

Ishtari-influenced cultures tend to be great users of contraception, such as through the “demon herb” Silphium. This herb is greatly prized in the Empire, with the heart shape of its seed pod stamped upon their coinage. Fascinatingly, Ishtar herself is actually opposed to the use of contraception, as preventing the conception and birth of children is an aberration against her command to be fruitful and refuses to use it herself. Despite this, she has not outright forbidden it due to the overwhelmingly pragmatic uses it provides for her worshippers, including the Sacred Courtesans of Ishtar, who while are required to have at least one child to achieve senior rank, often make use of Silphium in the process of their career, as the process of bearing and raising children is quite inconvenient in such a position.

Ishtar is highly intolerant of couples of the same sex, regardless of gender. These relationships are considered an aberration and failure of the manifestation of lust, and is considered a dishonour comparable to rape. In the Demon Empire, being caught in an intimate relationship with a member of the same sex can result in genital mutilation, with male Demons forced to become Eunuchs as punishment, although generally only those who willingly turn themselves in are provided positions as powerful palace Imperial Eunuchs, due to trust and security concerns. These Imperial Eunuchs are often tasked with guarding female harems, but also fill administrative and scholarly roles in the Palace. In the Creator Pantheon kingdoms where Ishtar has been introduced, the remnants of Amoroa’s worship has left an odd divide between religion and tradition, as Ishtar condemns such unions that were heretofore traditionally accepted. As such, in Kingdoms like Astem and Tourine, such couplings are not illegal and are tolerated, however usually are considered impolite to speak of in open society. The further away from Ishtar’s influence one is, the less taboo it becomes.

Ishtar tends to find race no obstacle and has personally interbred with many other races from Demons and Humans to Monstrines and Demihumans, and as such her following and descendants tend to be highly racially diverse. That said, her rules on beauty and physicality are maintained across races, so she is biased against those who do not conform to them, in particular Humans and Elves of the Far-Western civilizations, where Amoroa was strongest.

Ishtar’s views on Isekais have changed over time. Long ago she used to be neutral towards them, and while it is heretical to mention now, is believed to have slept with the more masculine of them. As times went on however and the nature of the Isekai changed, Ishtar started to view Isekais as pathetic and ugly creatures, while most Isekais believed her to be evil. The Yankeevine Empire in particular views Ishtar to be an abomination. Following the War In Heaven, Ishtar is officially opposed to all Isekais, as are all the gods and archdemons. In the Yankeevine Empire, there are few to almost no Ishtar worshippers, or Demon Pantheon worshippers in general, due to the labelling of those religions as Dangerous Cults, and the absence of any demons in the Yankeevine Empire due to soul consumption being illegal across the board. Any worshippers in Isekai-ruled lands as such are hidden, illegal cults practising in secret.

RELATIONS

Ishtar is quite close to her brother Gaumat, the Archdemon of Gluttony. Despite his morbid obesity, they bond over their shared rabid hedonism and similar views and interests. As such, they often form alliances against their other siblings. Ishtar has a rivalry of sorts with Nephemem the Archdemon of Pride, due to Nephemem’s supposed position as leader of the Demonic Pantheon simply because she was their father’s favourite. Nephemem in turn sees Ishtar as a useless wanton who only derives any power from her appearance, and only uses it for baseless pleasure rather than any actual lofty goals. Esephy the Archdemon of Envy has a rivalry with Ishtar, which is generally one-sided on her part. Vaughst the Archdemon of Wrath may quietly resent Ishtar for joining the Creator Pantheon, as he is known for his bitter hatred of the Creator Gods and his long holding of grudges. In the Cult of Tash, a Monstrine Demigod worshipped by demon-aligned Monstrines, Demihumans and Centaurs, it is said that Ishtar, his Half-Sister, laid with him numerous times, and so some powerful Monstrine clans claim descent from both as divine bloodline.

Ishtar tends to have little motherly connection to her many children after birthing them, with only occasional appearances and interactions with those who impress her, and sometimes divine intervention to protect those in mortal peril. Her partners simultaneously are given little thought, although she will provide them boons and support.

Ishtar saw Amoroa as her archnemesis and the root to all ugliness and prudishness. Enin and Ishtar tend to cooperate officially, however it is believed by some that Enin holds a great deal of resentment against Ishtar for replacing her own daughter. Despite this personal animosity, they are now close allies in the war against the Isekais, and are both seen as the two “Bitch Goddesses” by them. Laaeshan, Ishtar’s mother, loves all her children, and has accepted Ishtar into the Creator Pantheon with great enthusiasm.

Ishtar is affiliated with numerous things. The monstrous Bull of Heaven or Lamassu is considered sacred to Ishtar, and often she or her champion of the moment rides him into war. The Bicorne is also sacred to Ishtar, being once Unicorns that were corrupted, and only permit harlots to ride them. Ishtar is said to never move on her own legs, instead being transported by either a golden chariot pulled by thirty four Lamassu and Bicornes, or by a litter carried by numerous muscular men. The Silphium is her sacred flora, which despite her opposition is still heavily associated with her Sacred Courtesans and is contraception, an abortifacient, and a powerful aphrodisiac. The exotic Man-eating Watermelon of the Demonic East is her sacred fruit.

The closer to Ishtar’s descent one is, the more exaggerated one’s physical features are on both women and men. Due to this, one can make broad guesses on the influence of Ishtar in a region simply with a glance on the average man and woman, and will find the further east they go, the more extreme this becomes.

Sacred Courtesans are an essential component of Ishtar’s temple. In Creatorist nations where monogamy is still dominant, "Counsellors of Union" of Ishtar are actually more akin to relationship counsellors and sex therapists, typically tasked with aiding in the psychological well-being of couples, in particular aristocrats with troubled relationships, with the traditional Ishtari roles downplayed. In the Demon Empire, they are more oriented around hedonism and beautification, and are essentially holy cosmeticists, although still fulfilling the basic role of Temple Prostitution.​
 
CASE II - NO OTOME GAME, MENTAL DIVE: CIRCE I
CASE II: No Otome Game, Mental Dive: Circe I

[x][roll] Interfere enough to nudge memories towards moments of significant emotion [WIL][Easy]
[x][roll] Interfere in the memories to curate them towards events that were within only two years[INT][Tough]


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Willpower Test = Passed.

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Intelligence Test = Failed.


~~~

“After all, I am Circe de Meer,” she said.

You smile sweetly, nodding. “Then this will only prove that your change was all for the better,” you say, hiding your disbelief.

You knew Circe, you see. You weren’t her friend, or her lover, or her family, but having been her past victim had given you a certain close perspective. You were not cynical, of course; you believed that there was goodness and hope in everyone, even Circe, and that anyone could be redeemed in the eyes of the Gods and shown a pathway to a righteous life…

…but you sincerely doubted that the girl before you was such a redeemed Circe de Meer. No one changed that drastically or that suddenly. Even if she seemed to have absolute certainty in her own identity, for reasons you could not yet fathom, you had seen too much, from her strange behaviour to the Attractor trait. This was not redemption, but possession, and you intended to dive into her soul to prove it.

You close your eyes, and reach out, extending your hands towards the Princess. The Princess’ gaze is still steady, and she offers her hands to you. You sit facing each other, your hands clasped, fingers intertwined.

“Please stay still, close your eyes, and concentrate on who you are. Your name, your face, your home, whichever is most helpful for you,” you say to her. She nods.

You too, focus. Within your mind you repeat the name, Circe de Meer. I am Circe de Meer, you think. I am the Princess of Astem.

Even through your closed eyelids, you could see light glowing around you. You feel a hum of power around you, an odd tingle around your fingers.

“I want you to concentrate on your memories from no longer than two years ago,” you tell her. This was not dependent on her, but you, but it would certainly help if she cooperated, so you try anyway.

You focus on the face of the Princess, in your mind. The image of sharp, bright green eyes surrounded by long eyelashes, curving eyebrows, and pink eyeshadow forms in the darkness of your inner eye. A small nose that turned upward, full lips, also in pink. Cascading waves of pink hair framing your high cheekbones. An evil, self-assured smirk forms on your face.

“This is me,” you say to yourself.

Your face is given a form around it. You are tall, standing half a head over your former self. A feeling of great burden comes over you, both from the figure you flaunt proudly and the heft you would rather keep hidden, both of these clad in the “tasteful” attire admired by so many. A revealing jacket, the silver corset and gauntlets, the belt with the square gold buckle.

You try to imagine the interior of a palace you had never seen, a sister you apparently feuded with, a friend who became a Templar, a demon prince you loved and then feared, even that girl, Lijsbet Visser, the peasant priestess who thought herself so righteous.



With this you could become Circe.

You would become Circe.





No.

You were Circe.





Circe I


I am Circe.

I open my eyes.

Visser told me to concentrate on memories from two years ago or sooner. Well, what does she know? She’s just an ugly, flat-chested nun. And I’m the Princess, you know, so I am going wherever I please, stupid peasant.

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You didn’t really think you were the one in control, did you?



That stupid maid was late again, I think. My smirk fades, and quickly turns to a sneer.

“Damn her, the lazy ingrate!” I shout, before another blasted coughing fit took me.

I wake up in my room, decorated in gold and pink and white, marble walls lined with mirrors. I am in my enormous bed, surrounded by pink curtains hanging from a canopy and a small mountain of stuffed animals. My favourite, Mr Smokey, a dragon of course, is next to me. For some reason, he is black. Strange, I always remembered Mr Smokey being red. Whatever, it doesn’t matter.

The nearest mirror glared angry light into my eyes, and in annoyance I look over into it. A small pink-haired girl looks back at me with the same sneer as I had on my lips, all flat chest and skinny legs. I hope I grow up soon, I think. I don’t want to end up like that skinny peasant bitch Vrooman –

The door slams open, tearing my attention away from the little girl in the mirror. It was the maid, a shrivelled old nag I barely tolerate. She carries a tray filled with vials of potions, each one a different colour.

“Absolutely unacceptable!” I yell, my voice squeaky. I cough some more, my chest racked with pain. Each breath I take burns, the air searing my throat. “I have been waiting for hours! Hours!

“I am so sorry, Your Highness!” The maid sets the tray onto the table and bows. I remember that disgusting spew even now, years after I stopped having to take it. My breaths are quicker as I desperately try to get air into my lungs.

“Now, now, little missy, there is no need for fibs, we were just with you five minutes ago!” says Miss Dumortier as she also walks into the room. I like Miss Dumortier much more than I like the maid. She has bright green eyes and golden hair that shines with sparkles of light. Her face and figure are gorgeous – uncannily youthful. She wears the robes of a Saintess of the Mixed Church, beautifully designed to show off her perfect body. I hope my body is as beautiful as hers when I grow up and marry my Prince Charming in the east. Daddy brought her all the way from Maytabbea to be my healer. Only the best for his little Princess, he said.

“I don’t care! That stuff is poison!” I shout, throwing a stuffed raccoon at the maid. I hate raccoons – nasty animals. The shouting makes me cough more. I spit blood into the chamberpot before collapsing into the bed. Am I going to die? I ask that question every time I have an attack.

“I can’t breathe!” I manage to scream between coughs. “I can’t–”

Saintess Dumortier sits down on the bed and holds my hand. “If you take your medicine, you will be all better.”

“R-really?”

“I am a Saintess, remember? I will make everything all better. Your father asked me to help you, to remove your illness, make you ready for your marriage. Your health is already much better than it was when you first met me. Soon you will not have to take medicine at all, and your coughing will be only a bad memory.”

“But it's still gross!” I pouted.

“...And I’ll get you a shortcake from the kitchens. How does that sound?”

I hate the medicine, but I like shortcakes. I hold my nose and swallow the foul potion as quickly as I can. She holds me until the coughing stops. I breathe, and air fills my lungs.

“See? It’s already working.”

She smiles softly before looking off in the distance, at something I can’t see, suddenly going very still and very silent. “Aren’t you a little early? Two years.”

The maid claps. “It's wonderful! You are already looking so much better, Your Highness!”

“Two years,” she says again.


~~~

I wake up in my bed and look in the mirror. I’m full-grown now, and I take a moment to admire my figure in the mirror. Prince Soleiman is here – I must look my best. The maids hurry in, fussing over my hair. Alarielle follows, holding several pink dresses. My hair is roughly combed, my waist cinched in with a corset. I gasp as Alarielle puts her foot on the small of my back and yanks the laces tighter.

“Perhaps Your Highness should lighten up on the shortcakes,” she says in that waspish tone of hers.

“I keep you around to dress me, not tell me what to eat.”

She curtsies. “Of course, Your Highness. May I suggest this dress?” She holds it up, a waterfall of bright pink satin and golden lace. A flurry of dresses later, and I was ready. I pass a wall of mirrors, each reflecting my beauty greater and more glorious than the last.

Confident, I open the door, only for a mighty gust of wind to blow into me, pushing me back. There is no floor, nothing below me. The wind sweeps me away, and I fall backwards, and keep falling. I look down, through clouds and droplets of water ruining my perfect hair.

I scream, both in fear and joy, for when I had asked this of my Prince, I did not think he would actually say yes.

I land on rough black scales. The dragon looks back at me with his golden eyes.

“Hang on.”

I see the rooftops of hundreds of buildings below, the golden spires of the Royal Palace, the bustle of Astoria. I can see the ancient stone castles, the courtyards, the granite Cathedral of St Jacomina and the stained glass skylight of the Inquisitorial headquarters. From this distance, Astoria is an anthill, my subjects scurrying about like so many ants. I feel the wind through my hair, warmed by the sun.

The dragon’s wings beat hard, and he tilts forward, sending us lower. He sweeps low through the town square, and I revel in the gasps of shock from the commoners.

My sister was wrong. Up here, I am going to be a far greater queen than she could ever be.

He tilts again, wheeling back around to the Royal Palace. I land on a balcony, and in a flash of light and fire, the black dragon is gone, and something closer to a man replaces it. He’s everything I ever dreamed of. He was… he was beyond words. Tall and muscled, with an elegant face framed by waves of platinum hair and four great curling black horns, as if Ishtar had made him just for me. He looks down at me, his proud golden eyes clearly impressed by how great I was.

I clap, as if I was a child. “Again!”

He chuckles. “You will ride me many times more, once we are married, little Princess.”

Little Princess?! I almost bark out, but I hesitate. The top of my head doesn't even reach his shoulder, so I can't be too angry at him, and the mighty black wings and armoured tail reminded me what he was only moments before.

I am cleverer now, however. I did not need to throw stuffed animals as my first choice. I am sure My Prince could be persuaded in other ways. I latch myself to his waist and press my chest into his side.

“Please~?”

He simply pats me on the head. “I must attend to business with your parents first, little Princess.” He turns away, as if his attention was caught by something else. “Two years,” he says. “You cannot tarry here.”


~~~​


I wake up in a bed. This is not my splendid bed of silken pink sheets in the Royal Palace, but richly outfitted in velvets in scarlet and blood-red, and shaped like the seed pod of a silphium plant. I look into one of the rows of mirrors lining the wall. My hair is mussed, my cheeks flushed pink. There is banging on the door. I hurry to pull my nightdress back on, slide my feet into slippers, and open the door.

The door opens into the main room of the tavern, the flickering flames of the fireplace throwing light onto the walls of plain stone and wood. At the head of the table is my mother, seated in the Tulip Throne. My father stands at her side. Seated at the table are the ministers and courtiers of her Stadtsraad. They turn to look at me as I walk in.

“Mother, what is going on?”

She does not answer, and her face is stern. I see a long line of men enter the room, each of them in golden fetters and led by a uniformed Royal Guard. Taylan Ninurta, my dark-haired Sarutish tutor, is first; then I see golden-haired Adriaan, and Quintijn, his shirt half-opened; then Llorenç the Beastmaster, whom I’d met in the Demon Quarter. Master-at-Arms Floris is next, his swords still at his side, and then Lindert too. I even recognize proud Reiner in his Kriegsmagier uniform. Ardejn, Harri, Ruben…they keep coming. All of them stare at me with accusing eyes.

Last of all, three more are escorted in to join the group. Vicenzo, his hair braided and decorated with beads and feathers; tall blond Joren; dark-haired, pale Julien. They are naked, covering their shame with pillows.

Strangely… there are four who are missing.

My mother finally speaks. “Do you recognize these young men?”

When I don’t answer, her tone grows sharper. “What have you to say for yourself, young lady?”

“It’s all a misunderstanding!” I say.

“These men have spent the night in the gaols on your account,” Mother says. “You can tell the truth, or you can join them.”

I stay silent, trying to think up an excuse, any excuse. I can't.

“By the Gods, Circe, what have you done? Tell the truth, for once in your life!”

“Fine,” I say, defiant. “What they say is true. I am the Princess, I have needs. I told them that it was their duty and honour to serve my needs.”

I hear a gasp. Father’s face falls. He is not angry at me, simply… disappointed. For some reason this hurts more than the anger.

“I see you are very proud of yourself,” Mother says. “What do you think should happen to you – and to these men, who have stained your honour and stolen your maidenhead?”

I shrug. “What does my maidenhead matter? It’s just a bit of blood on a sheet, that's all,” I say. I got rid of that long ago. “I’m the Princess. I did nothing that isn’t done in the Demon Empire a thousand times over. Why can’t I just marry them all at once and have a harem?”

Father stares, horrified. Mother’s mouth presses into a thin line. Her face is a mask of icy rage.

“You have taken to her teachings well. If you wish to be a demon so badly, that can be arranged,” she says. She motions to another guard. “Take her away.”

“Wait!” I cry, as the guard grabs me by the arm. I try to run to my parents, but the guard wrenches me away. I shut my eyes against a splitting headache, and ivory demon horns sprout from my forehead, blood trickling down. “I can explain! I didn’t mean it that way! Daddy, please –”

On the throne, my mother sobs as the guards drag me toward the door.

My father reaches for her, but she pushes him away. “Damn Ishtar! This is your fault, Caracallo! Dumortier was there to heal and teach her, not turn her into a whore!”

My father gazes off to the corner, gazing at the shadows on the walls. “Two years,” he says. “You shouldn’t stay here.”


~~~​


I wake up in my bed, swinging my legs over to put on my slippers. I look at my reflection in the mirrors. I’m not grown yet, but I'm less skinny than before. Father says I look just like my mother, and I’ll be the delight of the Kingdom someday.

I hear a wet sploosh as my foot hits the floor, and look downward. I have evidently stepped into a puddle. I look up, and water drips from the ceiling. Damn the maids! By the gods, how is there water leaking in the palace!? I put my slippers on, intending to give the lazy trulls a piece of my mind.

The dripping becomes a trickle.

I throw the door open, and the trickle becomes a downpour. The stairs are a waterfall of raging water, the currents rushing past my legs, my stuffed animals and mirrors floating away. My hair has become a wet pink sheet.

The currents sweep me away, carrying me down the stairs.

I look up another staircase, over the torrent of water falling down the steps, to see the silhouette of a woman. Light shines over her back from the stained glass window behind her. Her arm is stretched outward, water pouring forth from her fingertips.

Of course it’s her. Of course. I throw a ball of fire, but it misses, flickering out.

“Pitiful,” she says. She knows how to get under my skin. “You should stick to what you are good at, sister…spreading your legs.”

I throw another fireball, easily quenched by the water. I throw another, but my sister’s earth magic pulls my leg from under me, and my fireball explodes in my own face as I fall backward with a great splash.

“STOP CHEATING!” I scream at her. I hated Earth, I hated Water. They were my sister’s. I had Fire… and that was it.

“Ohh, you aren’t going to pull another tantrum, are you?” she asks in a falsely sweet voice. “Your reputation hasn’t yet recovered from your screaming fit at my wedding, little sister. Maybe it would be wise to just walk away?”

I seethe. Cicilia wasn’t prettier than me, she wasn’t smarter or stronger than me… just more arrogant! I am the best! I know I am.

“By the will of the gods, Earth Bump!” I yell. The mirrors on the wall crack.

I huff as I stand up again. My sister is split in two by a stalactite of rock. Her horrified face looks up at me.

“But… how… you shouldn't – shouldn’t have that…” she whispered. “Not for… Two years, Circe. Two years.”

She vanishes into thin air. The mirrors shatter, raining sparkling glass.


~~~


I wake up in my bed, tossing the silken sheets aside. The walls are smooth, pale wood, decorated with row upon row of circular mirrors.

Nacissa, whose bed is on the other side of the room, is already dressed, her uniform immaculate. “Circe, we’re going to be late.”

“I’m the Princess, I can’t be late,” I say. “Princesses arrive exactly when they mean to.” Alarielle brushes my hair, then curls it, while Constance stands at attention with a tray – morning tea and, of course, my favourite shortcakes. I like those two – as maids go, they know what to do, unlike those other traitors, like Charity who spilled tea into my lap and ruined my best dress. I gasp as Alarielle has to pull even harder on the corset laces this time. I wave her away, pulling on my school uniform. Alarielle sighs as I stuff all of the shortcakes into my mouth at once. The polished silver tray cracks into pieces.

“Oh. That gives me an idea,” Nacissa says.

I pull on my shoes, and open the door. Nacissa lines up behind me as Constance and Alarielle busy themselves with making my bed and taking my laundry. Even the halls of the Academy are lined with mirrors – I lean over to look at my reflection, arranging my hair.

“Your rapiers, my ladies, freshly polished,” Nacissa’s butler bows as he hands them to us. “For this afternoon’s duelling practice.”

“Watch how you handle my rapier, servant,” I snap. “If you damage it, I’ll have your head for it, you damned demi.”

Nacissa’s mouth forms the barest of frowns. One of the mirrors cracks, two halves crashing to the floor. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t say such things, all I meant was that I hope there isn’t anything wrong with the sword.”

We walk down the hallway, towards the field.

Walking down the other way past us is Lijsbet Visser. According to Lisanne, who knows everything about everything that happens in this school, the Church plucked her from some mud hut in the middle of nowhere and sponsored her tuition because she could read minds, or something. She is about the size and proportions of a padoru, all oversized head bobbing around atop a shrunken little body. She wears a nun’s veil and carries a lot of books, since all she does is read.

“Ohh, Visser...,” Nacissa calls out to her.

“Yes, um, Lady Luttefmont-Furholjan, Your Highness?” she squeaks, like a little mouse cornered by two cats.

“Firstly, you should curtsy when greeting your betters,” Nacissa says. “Secondly, Her Highness has gained weight, and is in need of a… breastplate stretcher.”

“I beg your pardon?” Visser asks.

I glare at Nacissa and open my mouth to protest, but she continues.

“Specifically, she has gained weight in her bosom. Her Highness cannot attend duelling practice in ill-fitting armour. She needs her breastplate stretched.”

Visser nods, her huge head bobbing up and down. I too nod, satisfied that Nacissa wasn’t trying anything funny. I could almost swear Nacissa had meant something else.

“Go to the Academy’s armoury and fetch us the breastplate stretcher. Her Highness will thank you.”

Visser curtsies. “Yes, my lady!”

Once Visser has run off in the direction of the armoury, we burst into laughter. If we were lucky, the man-at-arms would send Visser off to another place, and then another, and if we were really lucky, she’d spend half the day running around the Academy.

Nacissa turns to me, grinning from ear to ear. “When do you think she will figure it out?”

“For a so-called genius, she sure is stupid,” I say. Almost every day we fool Visser into some pantomime or another, and it never gets any less funny. Stolen shoes, ink spilled on her uniform, bugs in her food, a copy – actually my copy – of Baron von Kürschner's infamous book about the Demon Empire slipped in her bag. Serves her right for stealing his son from my bed, anyway.

But Nacissa doesn’t look at me. She looks off somewhere else.

“It took you long enough to reach two years, peasant,” she says.


~~~​


I wake up in my bed in the Palace. Once more, I toss the sheets aside, and swing my feet forward, enjoying the feeling of my bare feet on the cool stone floor. The maids return to fuss over my hair, and Alarielle comes in once more with a dress and the dreaded corset. I wave them away. It seems like so much work for a little frivolity.

“There is no need,” I say. “I wish to take a walk to the gardens.” My gaze turns to the mirrors on the wall. They are all cracked now, my reflection distorted and split into two. I hold a shovel, and a simple square of cotton keeps my hair from falling into my eyes.

The halls of the Palace seem like a labyrinth now. Pieces of broken glass litter the floor and steps, making them glitter like diamonds. The stairs go on, and on, neverending, leading to nowhere, or to doors tilted the wrong way. Frustrated, I close my eyes and envision a door of steel that opens and closes on its own. I enter the door, press a button, and with a ping, I am lowered into the palace gardens.

Finally, I am amongst the greens and flowers. The rays of light from the sun are weak, and the morning fog is thick and heavy. I’m concerned about the harvest. How will my garden make me some delicious veggies without sunlight?

I drop the shovel and run through the garden, worried about my cute vegetables, and a dog starts chasing me, barking madly. Why was it chasing me!?

I try to climb a tree to avoid it, but despite all my experience in tree climbing, this body is far too unfit to pull it off. I struggle to maintain my hold on the tree and then I fall to the ground. I have to build up my strength. Wasn’t I sickly as a child?

“Bark! Bark! Get out! You don’t belong here!” the dog kept yelling at me. The dog wears a silver collar studded with rubies, and for some reason, has a woman’s voice. Maybe the dog was female?

I pull a toy snake from my pocket. As I throw it at the dog, it turns into a real snake with hypnotic eyes, sprouting fangs and hissing venom. I use the chance to bolt again.

Bushes sprout from my garden, growing into another labyrinth. The hedges grow higher than I am tall, trapping me in.

My running is fast and frantic now, passing more mirrors in the hedges of the maze as I turn corner after corner. As I pass them, they crack and fall. I see Aoileann, half stuck inside a hedge. She raises a watering can. “Have ye tried moving the veggies?” she asks.

“Maybe later!” I yell, passing her. Her voice trails off, warning me my green thumb will disappear if I don’t use it.

I think I’ve finally reached the centre of the hedge maze. There is a cracked marble fountain in a little courtyard. The water in it is still and black as pitch, an oily sort of rainbow shine coming from it, and yet I can see my reflection in it. There are three paths branching off – one to my left, one to my right, and one straight ahead. On the left, shining mirrors line the hedge walls. On the right, broken shards of glass litter the path. In the middle, I can see only darkness and shadows, and the rattle of chains in the wind.

~~~
I will..

[ ]
Take the left-hand path.
[ ] Take the right-hand path.
[ ] Take the path down the middle.
[ ] Turn back.
 
Ok, so, with that spam of past threadmarks and lore from SB over, we are now almost up to date. The next threadmark ("Take the path down the middle") is about 99% done (I just have to do some final edits), however this is the "Uncensored" QQ version, so it'll have to be edited again for SB/Sietch.

Once that is posted, voting can commence as normal, although hopefully the dump of past threadmarks will not dissuade potential voters.
 
Ok, so, with that spam of past threadmarks and lore from SB over, we are now almost up to date. The next threadmark ("Take the path down the middle") is about 99% done (I just have to do some final edits), however this is the "Uncensored" QQ version, so it'll have to be edited again for SB/Sietch.

Once that is posted, voting can commence as normal, although hopefully the dump of past threadmarks will not dissuade potential voters.
Anything that triggers 9 out of 10 mods on that shithole must have something going for it.
 
CASE II - NO OTOME GAME, MENTAL DIVE: CIRCE II
CASE II: No Otome Game, Mental Dive: Circe II (Uncensored)

[x] Take the path down the middle.

Note: This is the same 'uncensored' version as on QQ as the content is pretty tame for this individual threadmark.


~~~​


I steel myself and walk forward. I hear another clatter of metal from the darkness. I don’t want to go this way. I try to stop, but something compels me, tells me to take the middle path. I hear the barking of a dog behind me again, and in fear, finally, run straight ahead, into the darkness.

If I were still devout, I think I'd say a prayer, but to whom? I don’t even know anymore.

I stumble through the dark. I can feel but cannot touch, hear but not listen… my eyes are open but unable to see. The barking of the dog is gone, and yet even though I run through the darkened hedge, it feels as though I am motionless.

I am trapped here, alone, with nothing but mirrors that no longer reflect my image. I scream, but no one listens. No one will help me.

The ground slips from beneath my feet.

I fall.

~~~​


From the darkness again, I awaken. I slip out of bed, standing in the darkened expanse of my royal bedroom, alone. There is no sunlight streaming through the windows, no fires to warm the stone floor. I look for Alarielle and Constance, but both are absent. It is only then I remember that I had fired the former, and the latter was now in… in the dungeons. I weep. I had no choice. I repeat this to myself, amongst the broken mirrors of my room. I had no choice…didn’t I? I didn’t.

I do not want to die. I, too, am trapped here. I look down at my body, and am ashamed of it. I tried to convince myself it was because of what Vrooman had done to it, but it was a lie. Ever since then, it had felt different, I had felt different in it. The heaving, ridiculously large breasts that make my back hurt and bounce around painfully when I run, a butt large enough to get stuck in things…

…it's almost as if I am not a real person, but some kind of walking fetish fuel.

My search for answers is interrupted by a sharp pain in my lower leg. I look down in shock. The same dog has found its way into my room, and has bitten into my leg. I scream in agony and kick it off. It flies straight into the remaining mirror still standing in my room, and breaks it too. It yelps in pain, and disappears into mist.

Swinging open the door of my room, I flee, running as far as I can through corridors and down stairways. I pass Verity and Prudence, and even the new maid, Amity, who smiles and waves pleasantly, oblivious to my fears. I could hear the dog barking again.

I run, and run, the dog still chasing me. “Bark! Bark! Get out!” it growls after me. I don’t understand why the dog hates me. Did I not feed her… or, or, maybe I stepped on her tail once… or maybe she’s just intimidated by my evil face?

“Bark! Bark!”

“Please, doggy, go away! I don’t want to fight!” I shout back at her.

I run for the front doors of the Grand Hall, but they open before I can even reach them. A feeling of intense dread comes over me, and my run screeches to a stop. Out of the darkness, strides forth the immense, hulking form of my betrothed. The demon prince’s physique is… absurd, almost an obscene parody of masculinity. How could I have ever thought it was normal, let alone desired?

He looks down upon me, glaring with rage, his pupils pinpricks, smoke streaming from his nostrils. “Where did you go!?” he screams.

“I… I don’t…”

“Where. Did. You. Go?!” he repeats, backhanding me across the face. The force is so great that I sprawl to the ground, looking up into his glowing red eyes. I find my feet and scramble up.

I try to back away, slowly, as he marches forward. The dog, whom I had forgotten about with the prince’s arrival, appears again, but instead of barking, it runs past me, wagging its tail and panting next to my fiance.

He grabs me by my hair before I can run. “If you will not tell me, you will be persuaded,” he says.

“I didn’t go anywhere!” I shout, unable to flee. He tugs sharply.

“DO NOT LIE TO ME!”

He hits me again, and again. I cry and plead for him to stop, but he is unmoved.

He lifts me off the ground with one huge hand, my legs frantically kicking. My legs kick his thighs, then the stupid codpiece, and then they dangle, kicking at air. A clawed hand grips tighter around my neck, lifting me high above his head.

“Did you honestly think you could steal what was mine?” The Demon Prince’s voice is a harsh whisper, almost a hiss. He gives me a sharp shake.

I gurgle and gasp in response, unable to speak. I look around frantically. Someone, anyone, help! Please!

I look down at the dog, and she glares at me, green eyes sharp with hatred. The dog is smiling. Her tail wags faster.

Please, I don’t… I didn’t mean… Stop! Just stop!


Stop!


My vision goes black.


~~~​


I wake up with a start. My hands move to my neck, which is no longer in the hand of an enraged demon. In relief, I take in greedy gulps of air, uncertain if the demon could barge in at any moment.

I look around… and it is dark, only the softest moonlight passing through drapes over the windows. A glimmer of light reflects my image in a pristine mirror. I am on the ground, kneeling. I look down, and for the first time in many years, I can see my own stomach, my gown draping loosely as I’ve hidden myself in heavy fabrics. My eyes widen in shock as it hits me.

My body! What has happened to my beautiful body?!

I grasp frantically where my tits used to be, unable to feel anything but flat skin over my ribs… Someone has stolen my breasts!

I look back up, and I see Visser again, standing over me, with her big stupid bobbing head and her big stupid books. “I can help you,” she says.

“It was you!” I snarl, standing up. “Wasn’t it?! You’ve always been jealous of me, so you cursed me and made my – my…! I’ll have you in the dungeons for this! Give them back!”

“The Gods do not look kindly upon those who make false accusations, Your Highness,” she says in that horrid, ugly voice of hers.

“I know it was you!” I scream. “Who else could it be!?”

She looked up at me, questioningly. Her oversized eyes blink, staring wide like an owl's. How dare she, it was that face she made when she thought she was smarter than me.

“I didn’t do this to you. But I can undo it.” She smiles, that horrid sickly sweet smile. I reach over and slap the stupid smile off her face.

“What are you waiting for, then?!”

Visser slowly turns back to me. Her smile is gone, replaced by a cold, superior sneer.

“Firstly, I want you to apologise.”

“Apologise!? Utterly ridiculous! I am the one you should be apologising to!” I try to wipe the tears off my face, and then I grab her by the stupid nun's robes and shake her back and forth. “Fix this, Visser! Fix this now! I want them back, now! NOW!

I continue to cry. Visser still watches, not doing anything. After an impasse of more crying, sobbing, and teeth gnashing, I let go of her and go silent.

“Yes, I am sorry.”

She still stands there, unmoved.

“You want me to get on my knees? Do you want me to beg you? Would you be satisfied then?” I drop to my knees.

Of course it’s humiliating, me, the Second Princess of the Kingdom, having to beg for favours from this peasant girl from the swamps. But I can’t show my face in public like this. I need them back! I’ll be ugly like Visser without my breasts! I can’t marry the Prince when I’m flat as a board! I. Need. Them. Back!

“I am very sorry, I beg you, I will do anything! Anything!

“Secondly, I want you to swear that you’ll leave me alone from now on.”

“Yes, I swear–”

“Swear it by Enin’s crown.”





“I swear, by Enin’s crown,” I repeat, after sniffling.

There is silence, before Visser finally nods, her oversized head bouncing back and forth. She smiles, as a great glowing light shines from her hands, engulfing my whole body.

After what could have either been mere moments or hours, I eventually get up and run away, crying. I could feel my bosom swinging, the familiar “boing boing” returning as I made my hurried exit from Visser, without even a word of thanks. After all, I am the Princess. Peasants like her were put upon the earth to serve me.

A brief run down the Academy main hallway, and I find myself again in my dorm room. I swing the door closed with a bang, and run to one of my many mirrors. I must have spent the next hour crying and breaking things after suffering such a humiliation. I didn’t bother to look at how dark the room was, how I was alone, neither Nacissa nor the maids in sight.

I look up into the mirror, and see the dog again. I try to look away, but my eyes were held in place, unable to look away.

It was then that I hear Visser’s voice again.

“Tell me who is holding you here.”

I turn and blink at her.

“You know something is wrong,” she says. “I can help you.”

I stick my tongue out at her and pull my eyelid down. “Just because you fixed my boobs doesn’t mean we’re friends!”

She looks at me. Is that pity I see on her stupid face? Pity?! I am the Princess! And she’s just a flat-chested ugly wannabe saintess! How dare she pity me!

“Fine,” I say with a scoff. “Just stop making that stupid face at me.”


~~~​


We walk down the hallway. I open a door on the right.

Visser nods, and takes a seat in the front row, beckoning me to sit next to her. An old man, bearded and bald, speaks softly to the class as he writes on the blackboard. I freeze where I stand, looking around.

I’ve never seen this classroom before.

I look down at Visser’s textbooks. The Malleus Isekaificarum, one reads. Advanced Spirit and Soul Lore, says another. Of course. This is one of her stupid religious classes. She’s going to apply for the Inquisition of all things. Nacissa says that the Inquisition is just a bunch of paper-pushing bureaucrats these days, and the Knights Templar do all the real fighting. I guess Visser wants to do nothing but read more books and get paid for it. Peasants are so lazy.

Of course, hell would freeze over before I read any of these. In fact, I was not quite sure why I was even here. Why am I here?

“Do any of you have any questions from yesterday’s discussion?”

Visser raises her hand.

“Yes, Lijsbet?” the old man says.

“Father Cosmo, I have read the chapters on Possession, and one question has haunted me for quite a long time,” she says.

“Yes, child?”

“Is it possible to separate a possessing soul from a host?”

The old man was quiet for some time, before tilting his head to the side. “Well, of course. That is called the Rite of Exorcism. You should know this.”

Visser only shakes her head. “Yes, I have read that chapter as well. Is it possible to separate the possessing soul from a host while sparing the lives of both of them?”

The old man’s face paled, and his eyes went wide. “I – well …. That is…”

Before he could even finish whispering the word “impossible,” Visser spoke up again.

“...but why?”

Something here was not right. I look around, and what was once a full classroom is emptied, with only Visser, this Father Cosmo, and myself left.

I am too shocked to speak up. I don’t remember any of this. I – I mean, she, Visser… she has never said that, she would never say that. She was far too proper and polite to speak to the teachers in this way, and too prim to question The Church. What was going on?!

“Why is it impossible?” she asks again.

The old man speaks with enormous reluctance, as if the words were forced from him. “It is the way of the world and the will of the Gods. It cannot be defied. You do understand that they steal these bodies, don’t you?”

“But… but what if they were trapped?”

“Visser, please… As I am sure you are asking this question out of simple intellectual curiosity and not any heretical desires, of course, theoretically speaking –”

Cosmo suddenly goes silent and still. I look at Visser, who looks at me with equal confusion. We both look back at the elderly professor. His face goes slack, his eyes gazing off, as if looking out into an infinite abyss of fog.





The room goes pitch black, as if all the lights had been extinguished at once. I hear the old man’s voice from somewhere in the darkness, cold and monotone.

“You should have kept that green thumb of yours where it belonged, Princess.”

The wind howls. I hear the rattle of chains and the shattering of glass.

“Look at the two of you, dancing around each other in this illusionary place… you ought to stick to hide and seek, Inquisitor.”

There is a horrible screech, and the faint shine of metal, and I see nothing but two bright lights, terrible twin white stars, rushing toward me.

This wasn’t supposed to happen. I had to get out, now.

“Enin, Sentinel, hear my prayer!” I shout above the wind. Visser, the other Visser – am I Visser? Is she me? – looks around frantically, a look of horror and confusion upon her face.

I am not Circe de Meer!

The darkness fades to white as the twin lights bear down upon me.






~~~​

With a start, you wake up.

Princess Circe sits facing you at the desk, your hands still linked together.

“Is…is it done?” she asks.

Slowly, very slowly, you untangle your hands from hers. You are still under quite a daze, your breathing fast and shallow. Averink rushes to you with the water pitcher.

Lotte and your agents stare at you with wide eyes. Theodore stands by your side, gripping your shoulder. At first you would have thought they were surprised by witnessing a Mental Dive for the first time, but…

“Are… are you okay?” Theodore asks. There is an aura of fear around him and almost everyone else around you, excluding the Princess. The Princess simply looks confused.

“Is… is there anything of concern?” you ask in return, your memories foggy as you try to recollect what exactly you had just seen.

“You… you started shaking everywhere, having some kind of fit. Honestly, we thought you were going to die. Are you sure that a Mental Dive is supposed to do that?”

Alizea nods. “The last thing we heard was you screaming prayers before you collapsed.”

You said nothing. Obviously, a Mental Dive should never do that, as you should have been peacefully motionless until the dive ended.

Averink, ever the professional, waves them back. “Alizea, send for some food and water from the kitchens. Theodore, send for a healer. Stand back, give her some space to breathe.” He turns to you and hands you parchments, pen, and ink. “Of course, you should write down everything you saw and heard, for the record. Quickly, before you forget.”

You try to recollect what happened…

This is a Plan Vote.

Did the Mental Dive appear accurate?


[ ] The memories you witnessed had clarity and realism, they were real events.
[ ] The memories you witnessed had dream-like properties, the events could be corrupted.
[ ] The memories you witnessed appeared to have been tampered with, the events could be fabricated.
[ ] The memories you witnessed appeared to be entirely falsified, and could very well be mere dreams or imagination.
[ ] write-in

Was there any sudden and inexplicable change in your inner monologue?

[ ] Yes
[ ] No
[ ] Perhaps…?

Were there signs of a double monologue?

[ ] Yes
[ ] No
[ ] Perhaps?

Were there signs of a gap or inconsistency in events of the memories?

[ ] There were inconsistencies in events that suggested an alien presence.
[ ] There were inconsistencies in events, however they can be explained by the subject’s own subconscious.
[ ] There were inconsistencies in events in both the subject’s subconscious and an alien presence.
[ ] There were no inconsistencies in the events of the mental dive.
[ ] Write-in

Were there any sudden black outs?

[ ] Yes
[ ] No
[ ] Perhaps…?



What occurred with the last memory?

[ ] It is best not to dwell on it.
[ ] It is best not to dwell on it.
[ ] It is best not to dwell on it.
[ ] Write-In.


~~~​


As you write, you notice that Nacissa was no longer hiding behind the window outside, but instead leaning over Circe. She has her hand on her rapier, clearly expecting Circe to attack.

You slowly shake your head while glaring at her. She sniffs, but her hand drops from the basket handle of her blade. You were not in the right state to tell her she should have still been hiding behind the window.

“Your Highness, considering the effects of the Mental Dive on the Adjutant-Inquisitor, perhaps you should stay to be examined by a healer,” Averink says. “After that, you are free to return to your dorm.”

Princess Circe, like yourself, was too dazed to make any proper reply, and simply nodded while mumbling something about shortcakes.

Some time passes as you silently write out the mental dive, ignoring the throbbing headache you now had. The Princess too, was groaning from the experience, rubbing her head. It was then that Theodore returned to the classroom with a woman that you recognized as the Academy's teacher of healing arts. She bows respectfully and greets the Princess first and then yourself as she enters the room. Once allowed closer, she lays a gentle hand upon the Princess’ forehead, then presses two fingers to her neck. She does the same to you soon after.

“Their breathing and heartbeat seem to have returned to normal,” she says. “Make sure they rest and eat well. The headache should pass. If anything changes, please feel free to alert me.”

“Very well,” Averink says. “Your Highness, you are dismissed with the Inquisition's thanks for your cooperation. Please stay within the Academy's premises – for your health, of course.”

Circe nods, walking back to her room with something of her old haughtiness. Nacissa and even Igor glare at her as she walks away.

“Are you well enough to conduct the interview with Baron von Kürschner?” Averink asks you as Alizea returns with another pitcher of water and a tray of sandwiches, accompanied by a bowl of Galato and lemon shortcakes. You were a bit bemused, but appreciative, at such gentle concern from the researcher who had once berated you for your lateness.

“I am fine, Mr Averink,” you say. “Besides, my Attractor may help to loosen Stefan's tongue.” It would be, you hoped, one of the few times it would actually be useful for you.

“Well?” Nacissa asks. “Are you not going to Exorcise her? What else was the point of all that?”

“I will need time to recover and think about what I saw,” you say.

Nacissa rolled her eyes and scoffed. “You were screaming and shaking, for Enin’s sake, what else do you want?”

“If Princess Circe is an Isekai, we should still not provoke her to attack inside the Academy,” you say. “Think of other people, for once in your life.”

Nacissa's eyes squinted, her nose scrunched up, as she clearly wished to tell you off, however after looking around at all the agents, said nothing.

“Someone like Princess Circe is not someone I can just go and Exorcise.”

Nacissa sighed. “Igor and I can guard her,” she said. “But if this Imposter Princess makes one false move – ”

“Yes, you'll thrash her,” you muttered. Even the most holy of us could reach the end of their patience. “Please do let me know when you commence the thrashing in time to perform the Exorcism, Lady Corporal.” You certainly did not need to cause another international incident on this mission, you thought.

~~~​



Note: VOTING IS NOW ENABLED.

Be aware that voting is being shared with another website. I will post updates on what the other website's voters have decided to vote on and vice versa. If plans from that website (QQ) break the TOS of this website (or vice versa), then I will either edit or censor elements of the plan so that it will fit for that website. In the event that SB ever unlocks the quest there, it will become a 3-way cross platform quest, although at this point I doubt the SB Moderators ever will.

The SB Version, if ever unlocked, has Randy Rabbithorn replaced with a new character called "Bob Chapman". Due the radical changes made for the censored SB version as required by its moderation staff, there may come some significant differences in voting there, in which case I will have 2 separate voting groups.​
 
Currently this is the leading plan (on QQ) with 8 votes. It doesn't break this website's rules, so I have posted it here without any edit. There was a long explanation/discussion on that website about the validity of this plan, so if anyone here wants details on why they come up with that plan, I can provide it.

[X] Plan Tripping Balls
-[X] The memories you witnessed had dream-like properties, the events could be corrupted.
-[X][Monologue Change] Yes
-[X][Double Monologue] Yes
-[X] There were inconsistencies in events in both the subject’s subconscious and an alien presence.
-[X][Blackout] Perhaps…?
--[X] It is unclear whether it was a memory of blacking out or the Dive perspective blacking out.
-[X][LastMemory] It seems that one or more of the minds within the Princess reversed the Mental Dive on you, to try to find how to exorcise a posessing soul without killing it, before an outside party interceded. You canceled the dive by praying to the gods before it went further than that.
 

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