Athama

Her name is Athama. She tells the truth in sweeping strokes, painting the tapestry of reality. There is no one - only many.

Her grey-black eyes regard the world in a cold haze of heat. She used to be the victim and she remembers every injustice that wracked her slender frame. But now... But now she knows that there is no such thing as fate, that destiny is malleable, and she holds the hammer. She smiles and the world freezes.

She's sharp, with her long blue-black mane, a study of blades in gray scale. Her entire existence is stark and she cuts away all the threads that might tie her to color. After all, she got tired of whisking the cobwebs off of things and emotion bites like a spider.

That poor Athama - she tells the truth, makes reality. But she never learned that logic cannot rule. If we all are our God, then living without emotion deprives us of our worship.