Who: Stahma Tarr What: Reflecting on parallels between her waking life and her dream life. When: Evening October 28th Where: Her mansion Warnings: Mentions of physical abuse, attempted murder and out-right murder Status: Narrative, complete
There seemed to be some bleed over from her dreams of late in the way she acted. She seemed to be acting more like a Castithan in her personal habits. Such as the bathing thing. She was currently taking a bath, letting herself soak in the warm water. As much as she was physically relaxing, her mind was running a thousand miles a second. So many things were on her mind, the vast majority of which she kept to herself. She spoke to no one of her dream world, at least not in detail. She had little wish to discuss them, and the emotional toll they took was something she bore alone.
The time that she'd spent here in North America had shown her just how alone she was at the end of the day. She was realizing she was only a pawn for her father to use as he wished. More often than not, she questioned whether or not Datak still loved her. Some days she even let herself think that he never really loved her at all, that she was a trophy to him, proof that he was a man who could take whatever he wanted. The same way Stahma had orchestrated an escape from the arranged marriage her father had planned for her.
Alak had been no accident on Stahma's part. She'd planned to become pregnant, and then banked everything on him being a boy. And she did love her son, but love was something that Stahma showed in a very round about way. In many ways, she was a product of how she was raised. There was little love in her childhood, at least in the way of hugs and other such physical familial affection that spoke to love. She was often hard on her son, but she wanted the best for him, wanted him to be the best that he could be. But from early on, she had been able to tell that he was not going to follow in Datak's footsteps nor was he going to follow in hers. He was so different from both her and Datak, sometimes she wondered how that was.
And now Alak was here in Orange County, a thought that both frightened her and made her happy. She could keep an eye on her son here, look in on him without intruding. After all, the lines had been drawn when he'd come to America. But she was afraid because Alak was in her dreams, and she knew the world he may one day begin dreaming of. And she didn't want him to be subjected to the things that happened in Orange County. He could get hurt, or worse, even killed. And she didn't want that for him. But he was an adult now, he was free to make his own choices. Free in a way that Stahma never would be.
Sighing, Stahma closed her eyes and rest her head back against the lip of the bathtub. Her mind drifted to her dreams, of how she and Datak had drifted apart in them of late. Well, drifting apart was putting it mildly. Datak had been put in prison for murder, leaving Alak in charge of the family business until he had proven himself weak, and Stahma took over. She'd made profits in Datak's absence, but had gone completely against Castithan tradition. Women were not supposed to hold such power. As such, it was Datak's right to kill her. And oh, he had acted on it when he came home unexpectedly, having been pardoned for his crime. She'd nearly been drowned by her own husband in her own bathtub.
That was extremely reminiscent of what had happened back in Russia. Datak had been put in prison for a time and she'd taken over the business. Upon his return, he had tried to kill her. Nearly succeeded, even. Nikolai had good reason to dislike Datak. Even Stahma herself hated him for putting her within an inch of her life. It hadn't been the first time he'd laid a hand on her, but it was the one that had hurt the most, and not because it had nearly killed her. It had shown her just how little her husband seemed to care for her. Of course, they'd eventually made their amends, but something had broken in their marriage, and Stahma didn't know if it would ever be fixed. But that was something she'd dwell on later.
And she had to admit, the thought of divorce did hang in her head now and then. But again, she'd thinking more deeply on that at a later date. If only because even though she hated Datak, she also loved him. But sometimes, things were too broken to be fixed.
However, in her dreams things had gone a little differently. When Datak had refused to let her be a partner, Stahma had order their underlings to turn on Datak, and they beat him up and she left him in the street, effectively throwing him out of their house. Castithan society turned against her even more for that, for a woman to not only take power, but to throw her own husband out of the house. But enough had been enough. Oddly enough, it was a conversation with Amanda Rosewater that had convinced Stahma to try and liberate herself from Castithan traditions. She wanted freedom, to enjoy life the way human women did. Stahma was not one who wished to live life under the thumb of a man. This earned her enemies, especially one powerful holy man who threatened to have her hung on a Shaming Rack. So she took matters into her own hands before he could. She met with his wife and a couple other Castithan women under a banner of peace, wishing to make amends for her transgressions. Though, of course, having taken Amanda's advice to heart, she tried to convince them to join with her, that they should honor their mothers, grandmothers, so on and so forth, by becoming what they could not. It was met with a sour note, so Stahma feigned asking forgiveness and made tea.
Tea which she poisoned and killed the other women, then framed the holy man for it.
That had been the dream she'd had the previous night and a smirk crossed her face. Though it was a bittersweet one. Datak had been there, seemingly approving of how she had framed the holy man, who had been strapped to a Shaming Rack himself after having been arrested for murder. But when he insinuated that she still loved him, she didn't comment one way or the other. The truth was that she both loved and hated Datak the same way she both loved and hated him here.
The smile faded from her face and she opened her eyes. It was suddenly telling just how alone she actually was. Yes, Nikolai and Kenya were here, but she didn't wish to trouble them with the things she'd dreamt of. They both were aware, perhaps to varying degrees, of the things Datak had done to her in this life, but she didn't wish to drag up such topics. Sitting up, Stahma reached out and flipped the handle in the tub, allowing the water to begin draining. Standing up, she grabbed a towel and began to dry off.
Perhaps she'd text them. A round about way of seeing if either of them were busy currently. Stahma wanted company, but she was not one to outright ask for it. She felt vulnerable right now, emotional, even, and she didn't want to show it. She didn't want them or anyone to know how much of a mess she truly was on the inside. She was not the essence of calm and collected that she expressed herself as being to the world around her.
Stahma Tarr was truly a lonely, heart broken woman who had too much on her mind.