The knife is seized where it is sunk into her, as if someone was gripping the other end tight, as if the root entwined itself around the blade to hold fast. The other end holds Fever's heart in a vice grip, preventing it from beating. And the presence that concealed itself in her is known.
Not physically, but in a space like this, it is perceived. Another figure, taller and broader, seemingly drenched in fresh blood. A being of tattered cloth and trophy bones, of corpse rot, sharp edges, and the coldest eyes, shining red even in the deepest dark through a mask. Something that hates strongly enough to bring mortals to their knees, to bring them low beneath the lash, so deeply entwined that to rip back at this point would cause unthinkable pain.
Enough. The voice is a thousandfold death rattle, hissing with an authority accustomed to being obeyed. The antics of strange gods can be tolerated, but you attempt theft of what is mine.
Before there can be any question of what will be done should they fail to cease, the root twists again, and Fever's whole body spasms in pain, head feeling like it's going to split open, like she's going to pass out, her chest tight, and she feels like she's dying, she's going to die-
Ah, but that's well in hand, isn't it? No need to worry about going too far, when that boundary has been suspended.
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The knife is seized where it is sunk into her, as if someone was gripping the other end tight, as if the root entwined itself around the blade to hold fast. The other end holds Fever's heart in a vice grip, preventing it from beating. And the presence that concealed itself in her is known.
Not physically, but in a space like this, it is perceived. Another figure, taller and broader, seemingly drenched in fresh blood. A being of tattered cloth and trophy bones, of corpse rot, sharp edges, and the coldest eyes, shining red even in the deepest dark through a mask. Something that hates strongly enough to bring mortals to their knees, to bring them low beneath the lash, so deeply entwined that to rip back at this point would cause unthinkable pain.
Enough. The voice is a thousandfold death rattle, hissing with an authority accustomed to being obeyed. The antics of strange gods can be tolerated, but you attempt theft of what is mine.
Before there can be any question of what will be done should they fail to cease, the root twists again, and Fever's whole body spasms in pain, head feeling like it's going to split open, like she's going to pass out, her chest tight, and she feels like she's dying, she's going to die-
Ah, but that's well in hand, isn't it? No need to worry about going too far, when that boundary has been suspended.