The Strekovsky Domain

[___youwillknownihilism]

 

[___youwillknownihilism]

Casa De Kya. Her castle in the East. A place where her ambitions could be sat down, even if she never really would. It was her fortress of solitude. Where her mind could clear. Where she could meditate. She removed her clothing, always so hot with the things they wore in the south. More than one shirt in 50 degree weather? Blasphemy. She ripped the fabric in an almost barbaric way. Her pants followed, laying torn along the ground in a trail behind her. She let her shoes fall from her feet with wild flicks, leaving them embedded in the walls. Her socks last mere seconds as she was down to her undergarments. She would sigh and run her hands through her hair. She yanked her hands from the flowing auburn locks and metal pins and clamps fell from her head. Free at last. Her long, almost to her a** length hair bounced freely behind her as she strolled. The cold of the floor below her feet reminded her of a not so dearly but very much clearly missed place in her heart. A place so far from here but still so close in her mind. She very sorely missed "Yukigakure" as it is known to the southerners. A mirror caught her eye, giving her pause.

She stood there, examining herself with her highly perceptive eyes. She chose to hold the words she had in mind. Scrutinizing every minute detail of her hair. She snapped a finger and a small girl produced a moist towel. The girl was prim and proper as she expected her servants to be. She looked at Kya with awe. She was the barbarian princess. Tall for a woman of the south but a short north woman. She took the towel without averting her gaze. What does she see in me? Kya thought. She placed a hand on the girls head and smiled. She wordlessly dismissed her and looked back to the mirror. She wiped away the makeup that she wore, what little she could bare. And saw herself in her purity, untouched by southern charms or northern roots. Just Kya. Just Katerina. Her brow furrowed as she conitnued down her body and looked at her midsection. There it was. The dragon tattoo she never remembered getting. Just seeing it made her mind fuzzy and her chakra seem to be disrupted. With a sigh, Kya continued her stroll through the silent but wide halls.

She stepped through a large archway which led to a long narrow pool, lined with dragon statues of Falsalazar. She stepped out onto the pool, leaving the towel behind for now. Standing on the surface she inhaled deeply and sank into the water. She touched the bottom, eyes shut and breath still. A bubble reached the surface as she entered a meditative state in her own personal Lazarus pit. A voice too familiar to be real reached her ears, causing her to nearly stir. But instead of actually stirring, she simply listened to it. Who are you. it asked. Kya opened her eyes, now floating through the air high above a frozen mountain. She looked left... then right. But saw no one. A wave of warth hit her back, and the nearly naked Katerina turned to see it. A hulking beast of a dragon that made even her give pause. Katerina waited before opening her mouth. I am Kya Jaeger, Mizukage and Chuugo of the east. she responded with full resolve. The dragon seemed displeased. You think me a fool? Dear sister, you are old and wise, but a jester at heart as always. the familiar voice projected. Kya was stunned. She knew that voice. Kurozawa? she posed. The sister who subcame to a southern illness she could not fend off. No. You will address me correctly or not at all, sister. Kya faltered. Nicola. she whispered. The dragon reared it's majestic head back and roared so loud Kya was startled out of her vision. Now back in the pool, she woke with a start and darted to the surface. Taking in air she seemed to startle her servants who had come to check on her. She looked to the statues with confusion in her eyes. She waded through the pool and stood at the last step, placing a hand on her stomach as a pang of pain freed itself. The woman heard the voice of her dead sister again. You need to embrace yourself. Who. Are. You. She shook her head and wrapped in her towel, mostly dring her hair before dropping the cloth into the arms of a woman near her age, who bowed and scurried along. Kya grinned at the sight, a small distraction but one nonetheless. Katerina walked out to the courtyard next. Bathing in the sun as she pondered the vision and felt her dragon tattoo starting to heat up. Who. she was asked again. The northmen could be stubborn bastards but something told Kya to give in. Katerina Natasha Strekovsky. she said outloud. That dragon from before appeared before her, sitting now. And it wasn't alone. A second dragon was with it this time, slightly larger, less angry looking. It made her feel... whole somehow. Closer to it at least. She was intruiged, confused. Even a little apprehensive. She had gone through weird. She had her genetics literally shift on ehr overnight at least three times. Her mind was hazy, sealed memory leaking out of it to her mind.

"You will not be northwomen any longer!" the voice called. The mother of three, a trio of teens. Scared girls strapped to tables in a hospital. On each of them, she was placing special, forbidden and unknown seals. "With these seals I will die saving you from yourselves. No longer are you children of Lydian blood. You will be southern girls." No pleading could halt her. The small, weak Katerina was helpless. Even as her own mind was snapped. Her memories taken. Her power removed and forced to change. "I pray you never know what power that man intended to take from you! And I hope he never sees you again but if he does he will know I scorned him one last time..." Kya fell to the ground, grasping her head and gullet all the same. Her breathing was labored as the second dragon spoke; another familiar voice.

What are you? she asked. Katerina stood, the pain loosening. Her mouth opened but words failed her. She was the daughter of a mad man, drunk with power and racked with madness. She was the product of northern hatred, a seed of darkness fertilized by evil. What was she? If not the leader of mist than what was the answer. What. Are. You. It posed again. Her mind caught the voice. She knew it. And it was not possible. Elizabet. You here as well? I tell you what I am. I am mad. she joked as the dragon wordlessly shifted a little. Close. Sister you... no we all ran from ourselves. We are not southern girls, however. You can pretend you are but until you realize what you are you will always be held back. What are you Katerina. I... I am a northerner. There was silence. She furrowed her brow and licked her lips before speaking. I am a Lydian. The dragon tattoo burned on her belly, causing her to cry out and fall to her knees as a black flame too her body. Her sharingan seemed to melt in the flames, along with her clothing. She burned in the heat but not in a bad way. Her cries would die out as she felt all of her two sister's power and chakra... no not chakra but something else she had forgotten rush to her. Henrir. She knew it well. Her mother took away her connection to the north but that was a long time ago. She remembered what she was now. She felt her power level go up through the roof as she embraced her northern self. The dragon tattoo moved a bit, and two more appeared, one along her left arm and neck, and the other down her right leg. She would stop burning suddenly, the apparitions of the dragons melting away suddenly into them. Her connection to the wu xing and any pretender bloodlines sealed into her was gone. She was what she had always been, what her destiny dictated. She leaped, full of power and naked, to stand atop her Castle. She roared, and the sounds of three feral, ferocious beasts called out with her, shockwaves echoing out. I AM KATERINA STREKOVSKY... Queen of the Northmen. she would look to the north, and then southward with a smile on her face. A deviant smile full of a conqueror's glee. Never before was she so clear on herself before now. Let her father come... he will meet the scorned mother's last failure. Kya Jaeger; Katerina Strekovsky. Names meant nothing now. Only the visceral image of the final Strekovsky daughter meant anything.

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