172 Interlude: Cherie Vasil

Montreal, Canada, December 27th, 18:12.

𝘉𝘰𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨.

Inside of a multi-millionaire's mansion, hidden away on a small peninsula in the South-West of Montreal, a slim, attractive young woman can be seen, staring unenthusiastically at the massive and modern television mounted on the wall in front of her.

Like the television, the rest of the room is similarly opulent, filled with white furniture that is lined in gold, the very sofa she is lounging on being worth a year's rent for the average family.

Aside from her, there are only two men in the room, both handsome and tall. One of the pair stands behind the woman, obediently giving her a shoulder massage while the other holds the television's remote and feeds her grapes, seeming to know when she wants one without any words spoken.

𝘉𝘰𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨.

The screen flashes again, changing from local news to some teen drama and the young woman sighs.

𝘉𝘰𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨. It's all so boring.

With a simple flex of thought, she pushes against the 'music' in one of the men's minds, and the screen flashes again, with the man flinching at the same time as foreign emotions press against his skull like an invisible weight.

The channel changes to some wordless cartoon about a pair of cats and some cockroaches fighting for no reason.

"Haaah, better than nothing I guess," Cherie says before turning to the man with the remote, "give me a foot massage."

As she speaks, she focuses on the sound of his mind, of the 'music' in his body, singing a tune of her own creation, and she 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘴 for it, taking hold on a string of joy, tied with love and other similar 'sounds' and she amplifies it, only for a moment.

His reward for being obedient in changing the channel.

The man immediately lights up with happiness, like a drug addict that just got their latest hit after being starved for years.

Unfortunately for him, such euphoria causes him to forget his most recent order, which annoys his mistress.

People's 'music' tends to follow certain patterns, the human mind being generally similar even when different, so Cherie has gotten very good at picking apart the different notes, amplifying some, suppressing others, changing tunes.

All to get the desired effect.

And what she wanted right then was for her slave to give her a foot massage, so she took a page out of her father's book and dampened all of his 'notes' except for fear, despair and similar, those sounds she 𝘦𝘯𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘤𝘦𝘥 and the man immediately jumped to action, falling out of his seat in his rush to appease her.

The short byplay is enough to bring a small smile to Cherie's face, but that soon returns to the same bored expression. And right as she starts contemplating whether it's worth it to steal some of her father's drugs or not, knowing he'll punish her for it.

However, before she can come to a decision on that, she takes note of a familiar, muted 'song' approaching her alongside two other songs, both filled with a similar despair. Even without turning, she knows who it is, so Cherie just closes her eyes to keep enjoying her massage, hoping that her little brother won't annoy her.

Cherie tracks the tune of her brother's barely present emotions as he moves to another couch, sitting down on it with his own pair of slaves either side of him, that is until he decides to copy her and has one move around to give him a shoulder massage, while he keeps the other by his side so he can play with her boobs if the growing tune of shame is anything to go by.

Must he play with his toys while she is in the same room?

Cracking open one eye, she glances at her barely teenage brother molesting a fully grown woman and cringes slightly.

𝘎𝘳𝘰𝘴𝘴.

"Hey sis, gimme the remote."

Cherie decides to just ignore him and hope that he'll wonder off, but no such luck as a pillow impacts her face.

"Siiiiis, gimme the remote."

Finally opening her eyes and acknowledging her brother, Cherie tries to grab hold of his 'music' so he'll leave, but like she expected, it doesn't do anything, the notes are simply too stagnant, wound too tight for her to pull at them.

"You know that won't do anything, just gimme the remote already, you're watching the lame cartoons."

Before she can even start her retort, Cherie's attention is pulled to her foot slave who abruptly spasms, falling to the floor in the direction of the remote, his arm soon twitching to reach out for it.

"Hey! Stop using your power on my toys Jean!" Cherie shouts at her little brother, but this time he ignores her.

Who does he think he is? The little brat should just go back to being a horny teenager in his room, why does he have to bother her?

As Cherie sees her toy grab the remote under her brother's power, she turns her focus to his toys and in a fit of spite, she flattens out the tune completely, silencing it until there is nothing left of them, completely crushing who they were as people.

His power only extends to the body, but she knows he likes to let them speak and show how they're feeling. Now they won't feel anything, perfect little dolls.

As she does that however, her toy throws the remote at her little brother, who catches it with the body he's groping, and Cherie expresses her annoyance by twisting her toy's song into one of terror. She knows he's just stuck between a rock and a hard place, but she doesn't care.

Mood thoroughly ruined, Cherie decides to go dip her feet in the pool, as she can sense that none of her many siblings are there at the moment.

Dealing with family can be such a pain, and she just knows Aroa will blast her the moment she enters the same room as the little bitch of a child.

She's just so 𝘣𝘰𝘳𝘦𝘥. Her father is always either indulging in harem, something he is doing even now, or torturing his children, and thanks to that all her siblings are either assholes or boring pussies.

Only Valentina and Guillaume are around her age and the former wouldn't know fun if it was rammed up her slit and the latter is just a daddy's boy little cunt that snitched on her when she stole some pot.

Fucking pussy needs to grow up. It would be a lie to say that Cherie still views her father with the same fear and admiration as she used to. As she's grown older, she's started to realise just how pathetic he is.

But it would be an even bigger lie to say that she is no longer terrified of him. Years of being forced into a state of terror from a glance does that to you, who would have figured?

And his power overwrites her own, so it's not like she can fight back. But it could be worse she supposes. Ignoring all the times her father is around, the main problem she faces is boredom.

However, as if to answer her unsaid prayers, something 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 captures Cherie's attention.

A new set of music approaching the manor, except this one is nothing like anything she has ever heard before.

Typically, a person's song has one dominating feeling, love, hate, eagerness. It can be anything, with all of their other notes all playing quietly behind the centrepiece, serenading whatever emotion is holding centre stage.

But the piece approaching the manor is 𝘯𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 like that.

Where most people's songs are sung by a band of emotions, this one is an 𝘰𝘳𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘢, playing the most 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘴𝘦 and 𝘯𝘰𝘯𝘴𝘦𝘯𝘴𝘪𝘤𝘢𝘭 song of all time.

The tune seems to be constantly in flux, changing with every passing minute, yet unlike a mind of indecision, where someone is simply fluctuating between bland emotions, every single note this orchestra sings is sung with an 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘴𝘪𝘵𝘺 that Cherie has only ever seen in the dying and desperate.

It is the most 𝘣𝘦𝘢𝘶𝘵𝘪𝘧𝘶𝘭 thing Cherie has ever heard, but is is also more 𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘳𝘪𝘧𝘺𝘪𝘯𝘨 than anything her father has made her feel.

Because while the orchestra sings a 𝘴𝘺𝘮𝘱𝘩𝘰𝘯𝘺 of joy and excitement and 𝘸𝘰𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘭𝘶𝘴𝘵, a song of childish adventure, filled with distractions and bouts of vengeful pettiness, and wonderful sounds mixed together in ways she'd never even 𝘥𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘮𝘵 of before, behind it all is something else, something deeper.

Behind the beautiful song, there lies a single, constant note. A deep bass, lower than any she's heard. Ringing and ringing. 𝘊𝘰𝘯𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘯𝘵, never ending, 𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘪𝘯𝘨.

Over and over again. The more it rings, the harder it is for Cherie to focus on the beautiful symphony playing over it, and with every chord, the ringing causes her body to shiver, it's sound so deep she can feel it's vibrations shaking her skull.

It never stops.

It never stops and soon it's all she can hear.

Thumping in her ear with an angry vengeance, persistent and unyielding.

The beautiful symphony from before that had her so enraptured is deaf to her now.

All that exists is that infernal ringing.

Over and over and over and over again.

It's 𝘮𝘢𝘥𝘥𝘦𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨.

Make it stop.

It never stops.

Make it stop make it go away MAKE IT STOP!!

WHY WON'T IT STOP!!

WHY!

Why...

What is this feeling?

What is this?

What is she listening to?

This, this...

What is this? This feeling, this... this 𝘽𝙤𝙧𝙚𝙙𝙤𝙢?

It hurts....

It hurts like nothing she ever new before. A pain so 𝘥𝘦𝘦𝘱 she can hardly comprehending it.

A longing so 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘴𝘦 it consumes her being.

A 𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘪𝘯𝘨 so loud it's all she can hear.

Over and over and over andoverandoverandoverandoverandoveragain.

Why won't it stop?

Why won't it just go away?

She doesn't want this.

She doesn't want to listen to this.

Make it stop!

Anything... She'll do anything, just make this 𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘪𝘯𝘨 go away!

Please!

Please... make it stop...

"Kablam!" A sudden, childish voice shouts out, cutting through the all consuming noise like a light in the dark, and suddenly Cherie 𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘭𝘴 once again.

The world 𝘦𝘹𝘱𝘭𝘰𝘥𝘦𝘴 into colour, allowing her to only now realises that she had her eyes closed. 𝘗𝘢𝘪𝘯 and 𝘱𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘶𝘳𝘦 floods her body as she feels an electric charge pulse through her veins and she almost cries out in joy because of it.

It takes a moment for her head to clear, and when it does Cherie can sense that Aroa is already at the door, running away, taser in hand, but for the first time, perhaps ever, Cherie is not upset with her family.

Instead she is 𝘨𝘳𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘧𝘶𝘭, more so than she ever has been for anything in her life. If her little sister hadn't already run away, Cherie would probably have wrapped her in the tightest, most familial hug of either of their lives.

"Daddy says to gather in the living room!" Her dear sister yells out before she turns the corner, but Cherie hardly notices her words, too focused on the discovery of her wet cheeks.

When was the last time she'd cried?

She doesn't know and she doesn't care. All she knows is that she never wants to feel that feeling again. Never again.

She thought she knew boredom, she thought she knew what that meant. But now her eyes are open.

Her father is nothing. He doesn't matter. Fear doesn't matter.

Fear is better than 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵, better than 𝘣𝘰𝘳𝘦𝘥𝘰𝘮. Punishments are better than 𝘣𝘰𝘳𝘦𝘥𝘰𝘮. Anything is. 𝘌𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 is.

Cherie thought her life was boring, but it is just stale. Her father doesn't matter anymore. Fearing him is pointless. There is 𝘯𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 he could do that would match even a 𝘧𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 of that feeling.

But when her senses come back to her fully, her thoughts are derailed as she finds that the orchestra is now at the front of the manor. The symphony just as dazzling as before, even with the 𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘪𝘯𝘨 still-

Don't think about it!

She can't.

Never again.

She can't feel that again, that horrid feeling.

No matter what it takes.

She will 𝘯𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 feel that 𝘽𝙤𝙧𝙚𝙙𝙤𝙢, 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 again.

No matter what it takes.

She'd do anything she has to to keep it at bay.

Never again.

No matter what it takes.

=================

A/N: He~llo! Dear readers!

So, I think Cherie is an interesting little psychopath, so I chose to focus on her partly for that reason but mainly because I wanted to give y'all some more insight into Lusia and her power made her perfect for it.

So yeah, I don't think I ever actually went into proper detail explaining it, but Lusia doesn't just 'get bored'. That would be too easy. Boredom is constantly creeping up on her all the time.

Like Cherie said, 'it's 𝘮𝘢𝘥𝘥𝘦𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨' in the most literal of sense, it's the reason lusia is going even more insane by the day. Because this deep and all encompassing boredom is constantly chasing her.

Everything she does is in an effort to avoid it, to push it back or drown it out with pointless distractions and petty schemes. It's her sole driving force, to escape boredom.

That, more than anything, is her True tragedy, unlike the shit she said as Selene.

But Cherie has no experience dealing with the kind of existential boredom that Lusia lives with, so it nearly drove her mad, just like it did to Lusia. If not for Aroa, Cherie would have ended up pretty much the same as Lusia was nearer the start, doing stupid, retarded things because all she can focus on is chasing away the boredom, not planning things out or making smart decisions.

So long as it keeps the boredom at bay, anything is fine.

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