01-02-2021, 05:56 PM
lord, I fashion dark gods too;
He has thought, of course, of rolling back the clock, repeating the same events of their last encounter. What would she do if presented the same opportunity, the alien prone at her feet, his encouragement sweet and heavy in her ear? He knows it’s a key part of her, this unwillingness to end lives, but he knows even the most fundamental parts of her could be broken, could be remade.
He has seen enough foundations crumble in his lifetime.
(But does he want that? He could change her, sure, but what would he think of the result?)
So he lets that particular test lie. No doubt he will ask her again, someday – should she keep his interest – but he will not, not this time.
He considers the question, though. She is so quiet, in her asking. He touches her again instead of answering, again finding pleasure in the architecture of her skin, and then, still wordless, he transports them.
It’s nowhere new, it’s back in his lair, his private sanctuary. He has not been here in some time, having been occupied with other things, but it is largely unchanged. The space they are in is barren, a blank canvas, but from the other rooms come distant noises.
“I think the first time you came here I killed you,” he says, recalling the water surrounding her. He had been curious, to watch her die, a scene that he has now borne witness to several times, one he still enjoys, though the last time was unsettling, as Gail had interfered and he had been, for a short time, powerless.
(It is a rare and awful feeling, and that memory is one he works to bury.)
“I won’t do so again,” he tells her, though it is a promise that could easily be broken, “until I feel Gail is in line.”
The room, in fact, stays unchanged, rock walls around them, the air damp and almost cold.
“Would you like a tour?” he asks, “I believe in your last visit here we were…distracted.”
c a r n a g e
@[Ryatah] sorry for taking a goddamn month to reply I didn't know where this was going!! i still don't!!