Ziz's Questionnaire

Age: 0

The child wails as it is born. Messy, frail, with a mop of stark white hair on their head. They want food. They want warmth. There is a sound. Then a spray of liquid.

Ziz can't understand what the liquid spraying over them is. Ziz also doesn't understand what a mother is. They will learn eventually. But not from their mother.

It took hours of washing before the last of Ziz's mother was washed off of her. The sacrifice completed successfully. Wealth, and power ensured.
------- 

Age: 3

Ziz toddles around the compound. The walls are thick and high. They block the vision of the statues. Ziz looks up at them. The great lady of wings. She is beautiful. Ziz will meet her someday. Because she is special. That is why she lives here full time while the care takers need to leave. It is why her clothes are all white and spotless. 

She is special. The great lady of wings has chosen her. And one day she will meet her. Until then, she will stay here.

Age: 8

Ziz washes herself. The bathroom is fine, and smells of rose pedals. Her towels are soft, and the clothes she wears are silk. A white silk outfit. All of their clothes are white.

She needs to be in all white. 

When she is dressed her servants come in. The keep their eyes down. Ziz isn't one of the blessed. She is one of the servants. But she is a special one of the servants. She has a special purpose. To die as an offering to the lady of the wings. 

It is right that she be served by other servants.

-----

Ziz is presented before the council. 

She is growing well. Her hair is still pure white, a clear blessing from the great lady. She will continue to live in luxury. With books, with tutors, with trainers. Learning, growing. Gaining potential so that when the Lady takes her, the sacrifice is greater. Loving life so that when the lady takes her, there will be a loss endured for her.

Age: 12

Ziz kneels on a pillow. White. Silk. She wears one of her nicest dresses. Hand sown, soft. Beautiful. Perfect. She closes her eyes and keeps her face still.


The blessed examine her. She doesn't watch them, but she knows what they look like. Men and woman. Dressed in the nicest of clothes. Some with objects of great power. Some with strange features. They sit. Elevated. As they should be.

The blessed had seen the great lady. Or at least they have seen similar great one and been changed. Mad Better. Ziz hopes she is good enough for them.

Being good enough for the blessed is all she wants. Her life's purpose. To die for the blessed and exchange her life for their welfare. To ensure their wealth and power. To give them power to tear down those in their way.

Ziz shivers a little, although she quickly works to suppress it. Thinking of her death always caused that reaction in her. A weakness. At least it will increase the value of the sacrifice.


Another servant moves around her. Lifts her arms. Tilts her chin. Runs their fingers through Ziz's hair, undoing her careful braids. Ziz doesn't complain.

"Good. Her physical condition is satisfactory. How is her mental condition?"

"Excellent. She is flawless." Ziz's watcher says this last statement. With focus Ziz is able to prevent a blush.

"How long until she is ready to be offered?"

"2 years. Then she will be perfect."

Ziz's body moves to swallow. Small sweat begins to form. With an effort of will she forces her body into obedient calm.

"Excellent. She will be a fantastic offering."

Ziz continues to do her best to be the perfect servant, as her betters examine her, planning her death.

Age: 14

The bonds on Ziz's arms are tight. They are ropes of white. Her mouth is gagged by a binding of white rope. One of Ziz's eyes is covered. The blue one, so her white eye can look out on those around her.

The blessed are all around her. One of them has the knife.

It is time.

She can't breath. 

Her heart is racing.

Something in her insists that THIS IS WRONG.

That SHE NEEDS TO RUN.

She DOESN'T WANT THIS.

Her watcher had prepared her for feeling like that. Had told her that the regret and the loss at her death is natural. That the feelings will make her a better offering to the great lady. 

It's hard to keep that in mind. She begins to struggle and push against her bonds. She doesn't want this. She is just a kid. She shouldn't have to die. Please.

The knife shines bright. The candles burning bright. Soon that knife will be covered in her blood.


PLEASE GREAT LADY I DON'T WANT TO DIE!


The knife moves over Ziz's chest. The cold of it touches her bare skin.

Then the blessed raises it up.


Then there is a flutter.

A bird. A pure white dove lands on the hand holding the knife.

The blessed stop. 

Ziz stops.

Is... My Lady... Is she saving me?

-----

The ritual was delayed. The blessed interpret the dove. They look. They learn. They commune with Her.

Ziz will not be sacrificed in this way. Something is coming. Ziz must be prepared. And then she will make her sacrifice. She will make a sacrifice to the great lady 10 times, and at each will she sacrifice her life. 

And shall she accomplish this, she will be blessed. Become the avatar of the lady on earth... Not a servant, but one of the blessed. And then she will continue. To make sacrifices and remake the world for the great lady of wings.

But she must be prepared.

Ziz starts her training the next day.

Age: 15

Ziz’s whole body is sore. Training is intense, and it is interspersed frequently with lessons, and remembering those lessons under fire. First aid is hard with gunshots going off around you.

The dogs she practiced on lived with her for a week before each test. Very effective motivation to learn quickly.

But today she is somewhere else. Doing a new training. The Watcher leads her to a new room. Inside it smells… floral. A woman waits there. A young woman. Couldn’t be in her thirties yet. She smiles at Ziz.

Ziz adjusts. Couldn’t be above 25.

“Hellos my dear. I’m … Eve. And I will be handling a new section of your training… but first, you look so tired. They are working you so hard here. Come, sit here.”

And Eve had Ziz sit in front of her. Eve braided her hair, and rubbed the tenseness from her shoulders.

And she asked questions. So many questions. Carrying questions , that brought Ziz almost to tears. She had never been cared for in that way.

And so Ziz answered them. And answered honestly. Feeling relieved, loved… safe. Spilling her fears of the watcher. Of death, of what was to come. Of her preparations and counter measures to avoid the watcher’s gazes, of a wondering why she had this destiny, and why she had to have that destiny.

At the end of Eve looked down at her. With sympathetic eyes, she held Ziz’s cheek in her hand.

Then she slapped her. It stung, knocking Ziz to the floor. She looked up in shock.

Eve’s face was blank. Then she smiles.

“With just some work, and a little tenderness I have learned everything i wished to know. I could likely have made you do what I wished if I wanted to. This is a power greater than guns, and greater than some magic.”

Eve’s voice turned stern.

“Now get up. We’re going to go over how I did that, and then you are going to try.”

Age: 19

Ziz wakes with her hand on her gun. With an instinctive speed, she sits up, aiming the handgun she keeps under her pillow around the room. 

There is no movement. The small light from the camera in her room is still blinking. 

She holds still for a minute. Then the bird that woke her chirps again from outside her window. 

She relaxes slightly. She is alone. She is safe. She is awake an hour early. No use going back to bed. 

She flicks the light.

She is alone in her room. She shifts to the side and stands. Her hair is pulled a bit as she does so. Her pure white hair falls down to her waist, and tangles with her hands and sheets. 

I need to cut it. It's an impediment to me at this length. I haven't had it cut since... 

------ Memory: Age 18. Before Eve left

Eve sits behind Ziz, holding the scissors. Her face has a look of concentration. Her hands briefly touch the back of Ziz's neck, grabbing strands of hair to pull straight. 

The hairs on the back of her neck stand. Her skin tingles. A desire to be touched.

It's intentional contact. Ziz knows enough of the methods she has been trained it to know that. Eve doesn't make mistakes.

For some manipulation she is sure. But she doesn't care. She is happy to be manipulated. 

She is sure Eve will ask for something. And then Ziz will say yes. She has been too effectively emotionally entangled. 

Ziz smiles at Eve in the mirror. Eve pauses a moment, then smiles back.

------

Ziz pushes the memories away. She runs her hands through her hair.

I don't have time for that. Today is a training day. I can mope all I want on a rest day. 3 more days till then. 

Ziz makes her way to her bathroom. Her appearance in the mirror is perfect. As it always is. The skin under her eyes doesn't darken when she doesn't sleep enough. No other blemishes touch her skin. 

Her hair falls smoothly, with no knots or tangles. 

Enough is enough. I need to serve my lady. I need to stop being selfish.

Ziz feels under the sink. A hidden compartment. Scissors,  and bows. Things Eve had used to maintain her hair. 

Snip.Snip.

The locks of her hair fall around her as Ziz starts cutting. A cut down to her shoulders. Then the bows that Eve had given her to keep her hair secure.

Her fingers shake a little as she touches the bows.

She'll always be with me.

Age: 14 - Hours after the aborted sacrifice.
Ziz waits. She is cold. It has been hours since she was supposed to die.

I might still die.

Her arms are sore. Her legs are sore. She had struggled and fought against the rope after they left her here. In a state of panic, the memory of the blade on her skin burning in her mind. For many desperate minutes she had struggled against her bonds. Her fear becoming desperation.

But her arms were weak. She was a child. After 10 minutes of struggling, the energy left her, and in it's place there was a deep shame.

My lady spared my life after giving me everything... and I can't stop myself from panicking like a child in the face of her generosity. 

I don't want to die

So Ziz waits. Cold. Alone. For hours, trying unsuccessfully to not think of the memory of the blade against her skin.

The blessed had left with their knives and the dove. Hours ago.

Eventually Ziz starts counting her heart beats. Not exactly a second, but something to mark the time.

By her count it was 10 hours later when the blessed came back. A new one leading them. A tall man, wearing a mask and hood over the top of his face.

All she could make out was a pair of shining beautiful blue eyes. 

"Free her. We'll need her in a good condition for tomorrow."

The voice is beautiful. Almost musical... and... is that a hint of care in his tone?

Ziz relaxes.

Thank you my lady. You have shown mercy on me, and I'm so grateful. I will endeavor to replay your kindness.

Ziz is freed, she tries to get up and her limbs fail her. The man with the beautiful voice, and beautiful blue eyes moves to her side and picks her up. 

Almost immediately Ziz starts drifting to sleep. Curled up in his arms, Ziz looks up at the man.

His eyes looks like my eye.

Is her last thought before consciousness leaves her.

Age 14- The next day

Ziz dreams. A dream of white. Of feathers. Of bright blue eyes. She is woken with a jolt. She is suddenly freezing and wet. Her bed is soaked, and a man stands over her with a bucket.

His face is covered in scars that mar his features. 

He stares down at her with angry eyes.

"On your feet maggot!"
His voice is a shout, rocking her to her bones. 

She is up before she knows what she is doing. She looks at her wardrobe, and moves to..

"No time to dress! Your lazy ass has wasted enough of the morning."

Ziz straightens her back. A glance at the clock reveals the time: 7 am.

"Follow me. The Lady choose you for a mission, and my job is to WHIP YOU INTO SHAPE!"

The man marches out of the room, and Ziz follows close behind.

Age 22 - Now

Ziz opens her eyes. Jenn's arms are wrapped around her. 

She doesn't need to check the time, but she does anyway, here eyes glancing to her bed side.

5:55 am. The time she woke up at for 8 years. If she didn't want to wake up soaked, and with her bed wet, she needed to be up before 6, and dressed before 6:10.

Her hand has grabbed at where her pistol is hidden behind the headboard. 

In the last few years, her instructor had started waking her up with an ambush. To get her instincts correctly honed. 

And she was well honed. She was wide awake, and ready to run. To shoot. To fight.

Jenn's arms shift, then tighten, wrapping around her. 

A smug smile quirks onto Ziz's lips. She lets go of the gun, and moves her hand to feel Jenn's arm. 

A blessed all her own to protect her. 

Stop it. It isn't your place to feel possessive of a blessed. She is grander than you will ever be.

A flush through cheeks. Her smile widens.

Grander than I will be... until I finish 7 more jobs... And then I'll have paid my debt to the lady. Then I will be blessed. Then she will have a new task for me.

Her grip on Jenn tightens, and she pulls her arms closer around her, feeling the warmth of her skin against hers. Running her fingers over her scars. 

Maybe then I can be hers... and she can be mine.

Ziz closes her eyes, and matches her breathing to Jenns. Within 5 minutes she was asleep again. Safe in her Blessed's arms.

Age: 16

"It's about context more than anything." Eve's voice is soft. The practiced tone that she has been teaching Ziz to use. Soothing and kind. Oozing innocence and naiveté. 

"You can't be the same way everyone, with everyone. Some people will respect soft voices, beauty, and the appearance of weakness. Some want the opposite."

Ziz kneels on the floor. Her head up. Attentive. 

"Today, we'll talk about some options for performing that. Most of this will be how you act. But, how you dress is also important for the image you present."

Eve walks to a nearby table, and grabs one of the bundles of clothing there. 

"Put this on." Eve tosses it to Ziz

Ziz frowns briefly, before smoothing out her face. Then she complies. 

The clothing is a pair of jean short shorts, and a white crop top. Eve smiles at Ziz after she finishes. 

"Good. But your bearing is too upright. This is an outfit for fitting in with poor teenagers. I wore something like it when I.... Anyway."

Eve clears her throat.

"You can't learn just how to be your best. You need to learn to pretend to be any kind of person. It is the only thing that will keep you safe."

Eve watches the red on Ziz's cheeks be slowly controlled. Then she works on tying her hair back.

Age: 22 - The Masquerade:

On the porch Ziz sits and waits. 

Her dress is covered in fine lace trailing down to just above her ankles. The sleeves of the dress end at mid bicep , leaving a small sliver of skin between the shoulders dress and the white gloves she wears. 

Her hair is done back in bows and lace, and she wears a mask of white, almost porcelain, covered with floral patterns. Or maybe feathers.