Ambrosia

There was something enchanting about her, something which drew others in and lowered their guard. It was a certain calmness and serenity, an alluring aura which ceased the chaoticness of one’s mind, emotions and soul. It was an aura of healing, an aura of recovery from all pains, personal and otherwise. But this aura was corrupt and unmanageable. She was her mother’s daughter after all, and while the sins of the parent don’t always translate to the sins of the young it certainly did for her.

You see, Ambrosia was a child who was raised and brought up in The Organization. Not as a weapon or a tool of war or even a child who was forced to earn her keep. No, sensing the value of this child from birth, The Organization weaponized her as a child prodigy who lived in the lap of luxury and never saw, witnessed or came to notice the cruelty and pure savagery of The Organization’s deeds. For her death was not death it was peace and an eternal sleep, for her pain was not pain but an illusion to be undone, for her torment was not torment…. For it didn’t exist to her or those she was around. She was like an addictive substance of pure good will and healing which eliminated the chaos and suffering of one’s very soul. People in the Organization would come crying to her, and she would embrace them in a loving and healing way. Offering them words of comfort, of reassurances and of peace.

But despite her good will and pure ways, to The Organization, Ambrosia was nothing more than a tool to be used. One who was sheltered from their cruelties and used to bring a false sense of security and comfort to their people. She was an addictive substance that kept the hurt and the pain of reality away. She was a source of comfort, of attachment and of love for those who were manipulated by The President’s hands… and while Ambrosia believed that she was helping them, believed that she was freeing them from the suffering they endured… She was only ever a tool that kept them trapped in an unending spiral of death and despair. Albeit one which taught them the contrary and made them believe that this life of torment was all worth the healing which she brought their way. Healing which they would protect at all costs, healing which they would drag others to, healing which the world would need to experience even if it was dragged kicking and screaming through hell to do so. After all, pain was not pain, it was an illusion to undo and while Ambrosia’s intent was pure, The Organization’s was not.