#one ; elesh norn 🧭

[dragonselfship]

sum elesh norn thoughtz

cw for culty themes , brainwashing etc its weird.

He knows nothing of his time before Compleation, and cares little for it. He knows, logically, that he was incompleate once- fleshy and impure despite his scales and spines and claws. Weak.

That is, until She found him, as She always does, always will. Plucked him from his sorry state and cradled him in Her liquid embrace, soaked perfection into his bones and carved away the impurities from his soul. It was painful, he’s sure. She’s told him stories of his evolution, how he fought and spit and bit at Her (why in the world would he ever do that? he’s apologized time and time again for his past ignorance), before She finally blessed him with Her all-encompassing touch.

He does remember waking up.

From his cocoon, awakening, he remembers the acidity in the air, the slime of the Phyrexian womb but most importantly, most vividly, Her. She gazed upon him not with disgust, or pity, or confusion- She smiled, graced him with the cold touch of Her hand, long fingers dancing across his cheek. He remembers Her voice, the way it solidified him, cemented his purpose forever-

“Welcome to Phyrexia.”

Since then he has been Hers, beside Her more often than even Atraxa, who he has had the privilege of standing beside during select conferences and executions. She is a force to be reckoned with, frightening, even- but he knows Mother is ever-stronger. And he is Hers, and She will protect him.

There is no doubt of this in his mind, because She only punishes non-believers, and that he is not- he has from the day of his true birth bowed his head and kneeled at Her feet and in exchange She has smiled upon him, danced her fingers under his chin and murmured praise where no one else can hear it, laid Her claim upon him in such a way that he needs no restraint or show of her ownership. He is Hers, and he was from the day he peeked his head out of the slimy green waters of oneness, of perfection. He has become One of the ultimate empire, the ultimate mind, and when She moves- so does he.

“Make an example of him,” He knows She’s talking to him because he is a part of her, in a way- Her wish is his command in the truest sense, ingrained into his every nerve. “Ascend in the light of perfection, or be reduced to nothing.”

She removes her hand from his head, raising Her chin, and he stands, wings unfurling. He’s forgotten how it feels to move without the feeling of metal-porcelain sliding against what’s left of his bones, to bite with only one set of teeth. Why would he want to remember?

The other mortals attempt to puff their chests in his presence, stay strong for their comrade- but he can smell their fear, hear their heartbeats. Weak, human hearts- so fragile. So disgustingly warm.

The phyrexian soldiers drop the non-believer at his feet.

Elesh Norn smiles.

[dragonselfship]

I HAVE A TYPE

[dragonselfship]

heads up that like my ship with ms norn is weird . its unhealthy . its power dynamics its cult its i view her as a literal goddess but most importantly its Fiction.

[dragonselfship]

She nudges a mortal to its feet in front of him. He regards it with a keen, emotionless eye- metal-porcelain and glowing red. It gazes up at him, anguished, terrified- and then recognition crosses its face slowly, eyebrows furrowing and pupils flicking from him to his Mother and back again. He’s unsure what its thinking- He’s never seen this one in his life. Has he? Has he?

“What am I to do with them, Mother?” He turns his attention back to Her, always to Her. The mortal reaches out slowly, groveling, and he snarls low in his throat. Filth shall not touch him lest it be their flesh in his maw.

“What indeed. . .” She rests her chin in her palm, and he waits patiently, reverently, wings tucked politely at his sides. “What do you think, child?”

“Winter!”

The mortal screams out, like a bark, a hoarse plea. Winter? He pauses, turning slowly back toward the human at his feet. Something is itching at the back of his brain, his throat, wiggling like a worm and it’s frustrating him.

“Silence, filth.” He snaps, baring his teeth. His tail lashes. He aches for the comfort of Her touch, to silence the treacherous feelings stirring within his chest. He gazes at Her, nervously.

“I think what you think, my lady.”

She purrs, grazing her knuckles across his cheek. He leans into the touch and the incessant buzzing at the back of his skull silents.

“As a good pet should,” She hums, before turning Her attention to the subject at their feet. “You see the peace and order compleation brings, don’t you?”

It remains silent, swallowing heavily. Its eyes never, never leave his. They’re burning into him, and it’s relentless. Should he know this person? Why do they know him? Do they know him? Elesh Norn provides him no comfort and he will not ask for it.

“You could be a part of the creation of the greatest empire to have ever lived,” He finds solace in Her voice, soothing and familiar and placating. She’s all he needs. She will see him through anything, including this. “All you must do is submit. Accept purity into your heart,” She raises Her hand.

“Or be crushed in its wake.” His wings unfurl on instinct, his mind moving with her own. He bares his teeth and inches forward, cornering his prey, head lowered to the ground. Her will is his will. He is Her hand.

“What do you say, mortal?”

The human, stripped of all its weapons, soft and alone, meets his eyes one last time. He feels something deep and old within him begin to ache as he studies the grooves of their face, and his lips peel back into a snarl as unfamiliar feelings churn in his stomach. This wasn’t right. This was impure, what was this? He, the- the mage, he’s saying something. He has a chip in his bottom tooth that he got from falling down a hill when he was a toddler, and he’s saying something. Please don’t.

“Very well. Kill them.”

Her voice rings in his head like a bell, and he bites down.

sum elesh norn thoughtz

cw for culty themes , brainwashing etc its weird.

He knows nothing of his time before Compleation, and cares little for it. He knows, logically, that he was incompleate once- fleshy and impure despite his scales and spines and claws. Weak.

That is, until She found him, as She always does, always will. Plucked him from his sorry state and cradled him in Her liquid embrace, soaked perfection into his bones and carved away the impurities from his soul. It was painful, he’s sure. She’s told him stories of his evolution, how he fought and spit and bit at Her (why in the world would he ever do that? he’s apologized time and time again for his past ignorance), before She finally blessed him with Her all-encompassing touch.

He does remember waking up.

From his cocoon, awakening, he remembers the acidity in the air, the slime of the Phyrexian womb but most importantly, most vividly, Her. She gazed upon him not with disgust, or pity, or confusion- She smiled, graced him with the cold touch of Her hand, long fingers dancing across his cheek. He remembers Her voice, the way it solidified him, cemented his purpose forever-

“Welcome to Phyrexia.”

Since then he has been Hers, beside Her more often than even Atraxa, who he has had the privilege of standing beside during select conferences and executions. She is a force to be reckoned with, frightening, even- but he knows Mother is ever-stronger. And he is Hers, and She will protect him.

There is no doubt of this in his mind, because She only punishes non-believers, and that he is not- he has from the day of his true birth bowed his head and kneeled at Her feet and in exchange She has smiled upon him, danced her fingers under his chin and murmured praise where no one else can hear it, laid Her claim upon him in such a way that he needs no restraint or show of her ownership. He is Hers, and he was from the day he peeked his head out of the slimy green waters of oneness, of perfection. He has become One of the ultimate empire, the ultimate mind, and when She moves- so does he.

“Make an example of him,” He knows She’s talking to him because he is a part of her, in a way- Her wish is his command in the truest sense, ingrained into his every nerve. “Ascend in the light of perfection, or be reduced to nothing.”

She removes her hand from his head, raising Her chin, and he stands, wings unfurling. He’s forgotten how it feels to move without the feeling of metal-porcelain sliding against what’s left of his bones, to bite with only one set of teeth. Why would he want to remember?

The other mortals attempt to puff their chests in his presence, stay strong for their comrade- but he can smell their fear, hear their heartbeats. Weak, human hearts- so fragile. So disgustingly warm.

The phyrexian soldiers drop the non-believer at his feet.

Elesh Norn smiles.