Now there was a young woman named Sophia, who was a master of cloth and color, of everything fashionable.
She came to the Preacher at night and wove a tale, speaking of her long search for the perfect outfit to wear to the most important of balls.
For the best dressed of all would be granted a beautiful golden sash to wear upon their breast.
One day, she came across a stunning pink dress. Sophia knew that this was the dress to stun those at the ball. Hours upon hours she spent getting ready. She put on her finest jewelry and applied her makeup with care.
She looked absolutely stunning, and knew that she would outshine any else who attended.
But as Sophia arrived at the ball, she quickly realized that she had made a terrible mistake.
Everyone else was wearing plain, simple clothing. Sophia’s elaborate, sparkling pink dress seemed out of place and over the top.
She knew she had made a grave mistake.
For she did not win the golden sash, did not get even a glimpse of it.
“How could this have happened?” She cried to the Preacher.
“Aye.” He replied. “Fashion is like a flower. It blooms and fades, always changing. Some try to hold onto it, thinking it will bring them their desires. But in the end, it’s a fleeting whisper. What’s important is not what we wear, but who we are inside.”
Sophia could not understand this simple truth, but perhaps others may come to learn from her mistake.
Verily, verily, I say unto you Narcissa Balenciaga, just like poor Sophia, your past is shrouded in dyed wool and shimmering gems. You broke free of your shackles to Zeus, but not of those he placed in your mind.
To the rulers of this desolate land, the mightiest would wear the finest cloth and adorn themselves with whatever stands out the most.
That is how they define success. This is the shackle you could not rid yourself of, for the beliefs that bind the ruling class will never be those of the rest of us.
The rest of us wear what we can get our hands on, scratching and clawing not for beads and jewels, but for a sip of clean water.
You fight, as Sophia did, for the ultimate accessory for the perfect outfit.
But I fight, Narcissa, for my mission to spread truth to all.
You fight for that golden sash.
But I fight for my life.
Your mind is shackled to that of the ruling class, and you will never understand the plight of those whose ball you now enter.
My ball, filled with people covered in mud, blood, and who knows what else.
They are who my mind is tethered to, for I am counted among their number.
You, clothed in the garb of the elite, will always stand apart from the rest of us.
So to the Grimskull, you speak truth, Narcissa. There is beauty in everything.
Even your defeat.
So it is written, so it shall come to pass.
Thus saith the Grimskull.