Rewriting Carmina's Lore
Carmina was in her late teens when her younger brother had passed away, and she blamed herself for not being able to save him. Her brother had wandered off one morning, only for her family to later find the remains of his clothing by the river, quickly realizing that he had drowned. Carmina should have been watching after him that morning, and she tried to play the moment over and over again in her mind for what she could have done if she had more control over the situation. A few years later her mother had disappeared, presumably leaving as a result of overwhelming grief, but no one in the family really did know what had happened to her. It was now only Carmina and her father, who had now, became emotionally and verbally abusive towards Carmina, blaming her for all of the misfortune that had overcome her family.
She had always found her resolve and peace of mind in art, and she became increasingly involved in political groups who opposed the current state of affairs that their government had brought upon the country the past few years. Her style became increasingly bold, dark, and gritty; showcasing a morbid allegory of her world view and her political stance. She painted large murals on city walls and buildings, and turned it into a performance for any passerby that came walking along. She would wear long, outlandish dresses and outfits, fitted with jewelry that some would consider a bit gothic in nature. Her attire always seemed to mirror that of winged creatures, and she always had an affinity for the exotic. Her performances were no exception to that. More years passed by and she had finally been able to separate herself from the guilt that had consumed her for long.
When all seemed fine, Carmina soon began receiving death threats from anonymous people, and people would even shout obscenities at her while she would commute to work. She had become more popular for her art, but not everyone was as approving as her friends and her groups. As she sought out support from her friends, she became more and more isolated, realizing that the people she thought she could depend on had soon lost and interest and began moving on to other things. She began to feel more and more alone, threatened, and hopeless. Carmina had long suffered from depression, and her feelings had become too much for her to handle. But things only seemed to get worse for her, as she found herself kidnapped by a hooded cloaked dark figure one night while walking home. She woke up bound to a chair, soaked in some foreign substance that could have been thought to be gasoline. The hooded figure stood stoic with a knife in their hand, as their fingers slid up and down carefully along the edge. They began to chant in a low hum of inaudible words, and slowly began to approach Carmina.
Carmina let out an ear-piercing cry for help, feeling as though her lungs were filled with blood. The hooded figure began to cut off her hands in what felt like an eternity of pain. The act took seconds and she was left gasping for air, finding any breath that she could to curse the person who had just brutally maimed her. She couldn’t find any reason for why she would have deserved any of this. She sat in an almost comatose state unblinking, silently praying that she would make it through this night. As she looked at the figure standing over her, clearly pleased by her suffering, she noticed a crow in the corner. This was followed by a tapping on the window. Two more crows appeared outside, soon followed by a faint buzzing. The window then burst inward as a murder of crows came flying though. Carmina with her vision still blurred from the pain, could only make out the sound of flesh peeling as the crows began to tear into the hooded figure, knocking them over on to the floor. The hooded figure was now lying in a puddle of their own blood as the crows continued to drill into them and tear away at anything they could find. Carmina then began to pass out, presumably from the loss of blood.
She awoke in the middle of an empty lot, still dressed in her performance gown from the night before. She had no idea how she had ended up here, and everything was still a bit blurry. With her mind in a fog, still trying to piece together her life and what had happened to her, she began walking to a bridge that she could see in the distance. She had planned on jumping but she noticed she was being followed. It was a crow. A crow that resembled the same eeriness of the ones that she had saw the night before. The crow, glossy and silent, continued to follow her as she made her way to edge of the bridge. Carmina chose to ignore anything other than her current intent, and she continued walking. She dangled herself over the edge of the bridge, recounting all of the moments that lead up to this. This was it; she had given up all hope and thrust herself off of the ledge. As she fell, she heard a loud thunderous roar, as the sky seemed to tear open and what seemed like thousands of crows came flying downward toward her, completely surrounding her. She felt a sensation of pain, soon followed by comfort, and then darkness.
There was silence, but more of a sense of longing… a confusion… then followed a sense of a thirst. A thirst for violence and chaos, but this wasn’t her…was it? The darkness lifted and she found herself in another world, a world that was blanketed in a fog. A world that smelled of rotting and decay. A murderous vengeful intent came over her as she made her way into the thick fog. It was clear to her now, almost as if a voice spoke to her from within. This world was now her canvas, and she knew exactly what to do.