Sitting at the table, the villa was barely lit as the sun finally set upon the spring day. She was obviously penning something, of course the Wife didn't know what. Turning her left hand inward she continued to scribble upon the paper and spoke without even looking up. "Am I broken?" Her nose wrinkled as the side of her mouth twitched just slightly, the silence nearly deafening before Wife spoke "You're not broken love." Moving her other hand she pushed an errant strand of black from her face as she continued to write. "I think I'm broken, I terrify them right? How could anyone not broken do that?" Her mind raced as always, it was a constant mess of thoughts, past, present, future. The day she joined the guild, the day she killed her first person, watching the blood run cold into the ground, her eyes glazed and fixed upon the body. It as a rush that only she could understand. "You're not broken love, if you were broken, they wouldn't be terrified of you."

That fine line had been walked for so long, she danced, she teetered back and forth. No one would ever believe that now. She found him, or rather he found her, he got into her head, he saw what was there and he liked it. She was special, there was just something about her that made her special. She had been able to withstand him invading her head, she lived, she remembered and when the time came, she stopped walking that line, joined him in his attack. When the dust settled, and she knelt before him, she was changed, different but yet different all the same. "...not broken, I feel broken sometimes." Lifting her head, she finished her missive and penned one word the bottom 'Ershta'. She felt a kiss upon her forehead and a slight smile came across her lips. "Always remember you're not broken".

Holding the parchment in her hand she folded it carefully and handed to to the suspicious figure that shuffled in, bowing to her and acknowleding it was there to serve. Handing the twisted paper to the figure, she twisted her fingers carefully, calling upon her thanatology and commanded the figure "Take this to Lord Jeihrem as quickly as you can, and before it's too late." Sitting back in the chair she looked around the villa, her head tipping back as she gazed up at the ceiling a sinister smile creeping along her lips. She thought about the recent deaths, how they fell, each one of them one by one, like little dolls being tossed on the ground without a thought. "Not broken, not in the least."

I don't feel that I need to explain my art to you, Warren.