(Ripley's jaw opens, a ventriloquist's doll to please the audience, and out comes resonant evil. The voice is not her own. The words are arrogant, eelish. Sing-songing Death's cruelest lullaby. Where or how it's induced within her lungs, throat or larynx, she'll never know. Doesn't want to know.
The words are too large for her throat. Push cartilage out, out, out like a balloon expanded far beyond its capabilities.)
ORIN:
You were weak then, my slaughter-kin, and you are weak now! Nothing but a gore-clot to be culled and sacrificed!
ORIN bursts forward on fast-foot, wields her blade deftly and with great pleasure. Pride will spray in red arcs from the wounds she induces in her kin, this she knows for certain. I will empty you to nothing. A gore-clot. A paltry slime under her foot. Soon the god's favor shall belong to her, as is her right, and FEVER will be no more.
no subject
(Ripley's jaw opens, a ventriloquist's doll to please the audience, and out comes resonant evil. The voice is not her own. The words are arrogant, eelish. Sing-songing Death's cruelest lullaby. Where or how it's induced within her lungs, throat or larynx, she'll never know. Doesn't want to know.
The words are too large for her throat. Push cartilage out, out, out like a balloon expanded far beyond its capabilities.)
ORIN:
You were weak then, my slaughter-kin, and you are weak now! Nothing but a gore-clot to be culled and sacrificed!
ORIN bursts forward on fast-foot, wields her blade deftly and with great pleasure. Pride will spray in red arcs from the wounds she induces in her kin, this she knows for certain. I will empty you to nothing. A gore-clot. A paltry slime under her foot. Soon the god's favor shall belong to her, as is her right, and FEVER will be no more.
Nothing stands in her way.
Fallible fool.