I wanted to leave something besides a blood trail,
besides prayers growing stale on my tongue.
She follows the queen and listens to the infrequent words of the other girl but she makes even fewer replies. Mostly she just gives a short hum of acknowledgement or absent mindedly nods in understanding with each statement. Cellar's slinking motions never tire, never fall back as she's led to her new home by the other. Her bright eyes glance up momentarily as she begins to catch the scent of pines on the wind. They loom ahead, learning how to tower over others but still jagged against the peaceful sky, but she doesn't seem to mind them. Or at least, her pace does not falter in hesitation, if that can be taken as a sign of her thoughts.
Her head slowly lowers as they draw near the kingdom's borders until the pines are touching along her back, their needles tickling against her spine. They almost feel like greedy fingers examining a new toy. Still, Cellar does not stray from the queen's path but rather follows just as before. She narrows her eyes in suspicion of the thrumming beat beneath her hooves but then her attention is stolen away by Straia's words. Cellar lifts her head as they break through the trees and into the Chamber itself.
Someone to meet? Cellar only tilts her head slightly to the left in response and waits patiently as the other gives her call. Her ears twitch slightly to try and catch some sound but she's not terribly concerned. If it had all been a cruel trick and this was to end in her demise, she would simply shrug and accept it as punishment for not hunting down Tyrael. Life isn't that precious to one who's never truly lived.
"I am.. honored?" she says uncertainly, still tilting her head now as the moon catches those scales along her cheeks and legs. Her eyes do not glimmer in the dark as her father's often did, but she still managed to be one of the more unsightly things that creeped about. A thought occurs to her, however, and she slowly straightens up as she finds it important enough to speak without provocation.
"I feel a warning is necessary, Straia," she begins before taking a single step closer. "Do not touch my skin. It is... unsafe."
Cellar lacks the vocabulary to describe her skin but she hopes to get the point across all the same. No one ever taught her the words 'barbs' or 'venom', but she knows very well that her body brings death. Tyrael had laughed and laughed when he discovered this about her. His delight still excites her while also making her bones shudder in splendid horror.
Cbesides prayers growing stale on my tongue.
She follows the queen and listens to the infrequent words of the other girl but she makes even fewer replies. Mostly she just gives a short hum of acknowledgement or absent mindedly nods in understanding with each statement. Cellar's slinking motions never tire, never fall back as she's led to her new home by the other. Her bright eyes glance up momentarily as she begins to catch the scent of pines on the wind. They loom ahead, learning how to tower over others but still jagged against the peaceful sky, but she doesn't seem to mind them. Or at least, her pace does not falter in hesitation, if that can be taken as a sign of her thoughts.
Her head slowly lowers as they draw near the kingdom's borders until the pines are touching along her back, their needles tickling against her spine. They almost feel like greedy fingers examining a new toy. Still, Cellar does not stray from the queen's path but rather follows just as before. She narrows her eyes in suspicion of the thrumming beat beneath her hooves but then her attention is stolen away by Straia's words. Cellar lifts her head as they break through the trees and into the Chamber itself.
Someone to meet? Cellar only tilts her head slightly to the left in response and waits patiently as the other gives her call. Her ears twitch slightly to try and catch some sound but she's not terribly concerned. If it had all been a cruel trick and this was to end in her demise, she would simply shrug and accept it as punishment for not hunting down Tyrael. Life isn't that precious to one who's never truly lived.
"I am.. honored?" she says uncertainly, still tilting her head now as the moon catches those scales along her cheeks and legs. Her eyes do not glimmer in the dark as her father's often did, but she still managed to be one of the more unsightly things that creeped about. A thought occurs to her, however, and she slowly straightens up as she finds it important enough to speak without provocation.
"I feel a warning is necessary, Straia," she begins before taking a single step closer. "Do not touch my skin. It is... unsafe."
Cellar lacks the vocabulary to describe her skin but she hopes to get the point across all the same. No one ever taught her the words 'barbs' or 'venom', but she knows very well that her body brings death. Tyrael had laughed and laughed when he discovered this about her. His delight still excites her while also making her bones shudder in splendid horror.
I could give you my body, my flesh,
offer it up like a sacrifice, like a banquet.
offer it up like a sacrifice, like a banquet.
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