violence
She has to hold back a cry of delight as he yields. It is sweet, this surrender, and rarely tasted. She mostly possessed the monsters, her sisters and her father, but they were stupid and simple-minded. He is definitely, he is smart enough to know better, yet here he is, buckling before her, letting her into the crevasses of his dark memories, and oh, she is thrilled!
She moves into his mind slowly, fighting the urge to rush in. She acts casual, as if this is commonplace, a daily occurrence, and then she is nestled in his mind, and the memories unspool.
She watches a creature approach, tastes the copper of his fear, hears the screams of the fighting. Brutality and blood, and then running, running, fear still coursing through his – their – veins.
But there is more. Something hazy and lurking at the corner of this memory. A page waiting to be turned.
Violence has always been a sucker for a grand reveal.
Good, Clegane, she purrs in his mind, but there’s more, isn’t there? Something you’re not telling.
She moves her own body slowly – hard to control, when she’s largely nestled in someone else’s mind – and lets it rest against his. Another show of intimacy, of comfort. Her bone-creature has collapsed, her powers diverted elsewhere, but she doesn’t fret. It is an easy thing to rebuild.
She cannot say the same for Clegane.
Show me the rest, she whispers, I want to see.
these violent delights bring violent ends
