Sasha's Rebirth

This piece is kind of special to me. Sasha was both the first evil and first female character I had ever written, and I was surprised by the final result. I've since used her in a number of RPs and Sasha has always seemed to make a strong impression wherever she goes. So I thought it'd post her first appearance here to see what you all thought. Thanks for reading.

Sasha woke up. And tried to remember who she was.

Nothing moved and nothing was. Nothing in her mind’s eye was clear. She had slept for so long her consciousness was mottled and spread thin. None of her thoughts and memories were whole. They were incoherent and scattered like clouds in a night sky, discernible only by the dark gulfs they made between the stars. But the starts in Sasha’s mind gave her light in the void she had made for herself, and in a detached semi-conscious way, she knew the light was good. It awoke compelling instincts in Sasha that acted on behalf of her still sleepy and listless mind.

She could feel herself moving.

Sasha was blindly probing the smooth sides of her lightless cell for weaknesses. Her body filled the chamber completely, like the yolk of an egg. It was a space that she felt she had been in for some time, and had finally out grown. This cell had been made to keep unwanted things out, not in. And so Sasha began to push, suddenly longing to be free.

There was a crack, a sudden release, and she poured forth.

There was still darkness. She could feel the earth all around her, coarse and dry, hard to move through. The force of her escape had forced her through a mold of narrow spaces, making her into a tangle of branching tendrils, like roots. Sasha was confused. She did not know why or how but knew she was deep underground, and that her body knew what to do next. She felt herself coalesce back into a single amorphous mass that pushed earth aside to make room as it grew, swelling as more of the tendrils drew back to rejoin the rest of her.

Up, something told her. Up… Rise… Grow…

And rise she did, mindlessly obedient to her instincts. Sasha’s liquid body welled up and pushed hard for the surface, like the first shoot of a seed trying to find the sun. Progress was slow. Many times she encountered buried stones she could not penetrate, and tried to remember how she herself had been buried but could not. Her tenacious and seemingly autonomous body continued to twist and wind it’s way through the compacted earth, carrying her upwards against gravity—the only thing that differentiated up from down in the cramped black of the soil.

Where are we going? Sasha tried to ask, still not quite herself. The words did not come, but the feelings carried through to whatever part of her had taken charge. It was a plea for assurance and comfort from a confused child fearfully trusting it's mother; gripping her hand as they went along. Up, something whispered again, so single-minded, indifferent to her anxiety. Up… Rise… Grow…

Some time later, Sasha found a way out.

She erupted from the ground in a geyser of black syrup, as if a malignant cyst in the earth had ruptured and was spewing puss from a narrow fissure. Her body was exposed to open air for the first time in years. The feeling was rapturous. Something only someone like her could grasp. And there were no others. Not yet.

Her body was caked on much of the walls and ceiling of some dark, roughly hewn passage—a dry throat of stone. A tunnel, she thought, surprised that she could. I have found a tunnel. She repeated it to herself, almost disbelieving. Her world had certainty again. She had found a tunnel. And her mind was returning to her like a pleasant dream. The force that had guided her here was ebbing away—it’s job done—allowing Sasha’s consciousness the room it needed to grow. Something in her smiled.
 


The rest of her was undergoing a reformation as well. Rippling droplets of her liquid flesh sought each other out, attracted like magnates. They formed several puddles that soon merged into a single swelling mass. She felt herself gaining definition. Even in this shapeless state she could feel what would become her arms and legs, fingers and toes, all the semblances of a human form. 


She prepared herself and began.

With the pain and exertion of a mother in labor, but with the creative idealism and genius of an artist, Sasha’s body slowly began to take shape. It was so easy to remain in her completely fluid state, but retaining a more well defined physique required a kind of focus and willpower that had been excruciatingly difficult for her to master in those first desperate days after her metamorphosis. But the more she practiced sculpting her body, the easier the process became to bear. Over the years, Sasha had progressed to a point were transforming only hurt after waking from long periods of hibernation, as was now the case. 
 


Finally, perhaps after an hour or so Sasha was reborn, and not for the first time. She stood silently poised like a dancer after the final climactic note of a ballet, exhausted but deeply satisfied. Her efforts had yielded the nude and flawless body of a young woman, not all that dissimilar from the one that had grown in her mother’s womb, centuries before Sasha had found her true self.

She was an alchemist’s Eve. Her skin was a shade of pearl white that approached pale purple—the color of poisoned moonlight. Her face had sharp violet eyes, a small swoop of a nose, and a pretty mouth with soft lips that had whispered countless lies. Sasha’s purple hair flowed down to her neck and to a fine point between her shoulders. A master doll maker could have done no better. This time the alluring shape shifter had chosen to mitigate her curves somewhat, but was no less well endowed than any other woman. And she could always grow to be more voluptuous as needed. A pair of beautiful and deceptively strong hands rounded out the ends of her slender arms with long, seemingly delicate fingers. Each was crowned with a black fingernail as hard and as sharp as the tip of a dagger, nearly talons. This form pleased her. 


Once she had opened her new eyes, Sasha became aware of the light around her for the first time. Glowing orange torches were set into the concave walls of the tunnel at regular intervals. The paths immediately before and behind her stretched on for some distance before gradually bending out of sight, left and up respectively. She could have reached up and placed her palm flat against the ceiling, it was so low. 
 


A serpent’s smile appeared on Sasha’s face as she thought on her surroundings. Her mind, now fully restored, was preoccupied with thoughts of what she wanted to treat herself to after so many years of sleep. The possibilities for pleasure seemed endless. The tunnel was undoubtedly connected to the surface at some point. The air flowing past her tingling skin spoke of sweat and iron from points above and below. Musing on this, it seemed to Sasha that she had emerged into a branch of a much larger labyrinth. A mine, she thought. And those who had built it were busy all throughout the vast underground expanse, greedily digging for riches. Sasha knew greed. She knew lust. And her all her eager senses were tickled by the tantalizing echoes of hundreds of heartbeats reverberating through the tunnels. Sasha would seek them out for sustenance... 
 



Obedient to her will, a flowing sorceress gown poured out from Sasha’s skin. It was black as pitch, and fit her like a glove. Slowly she sauntered forward, still barefoot on the rock, towards the end of the tunnel that led upwards. Upwards to what, exactly—other than a great deal of food and the surface—she couldn’t be sure. But she was happy to be on her way, fearing nothing and dreaming of sin.