A fog in her memories has long made it so there is only blur and vague shape shape of her experiences formed in picture, and whispers speak to her in voices she cannot recall and belonging to those she cannot name. Ancient and forgotten these are long and distant stars with a vast darkness between: a crawling chaos that seeps into everything, and Yidhra does not recall the last time she stood before something or someone like this.
Imperfect geometry, a form so indistinct and otherwordly her mind struggles to understand the curves and the endings: the beginnings and all the ways it moves. Yet there is a blessing in all her gifts and state, in her change- and the barbell shaped irises narrow into little more than slits before stretching and darkening the eyes completely.
Light filters in various ways and the kraken-witch finds the refraction off of the oily skin to be a hint of where to look: his mouth, those eyes- and all the mass of appendages formed into shadowy and bizarre tentacles that bend the very light around them. He lacks metaphor and subtle, no time or no preference: she cares little either way, instead she only listens and notes him with her posture shifting. On her maw the porous tendrils lay still as she answers- as the beak forms voice and chatter.
“I do not want to rule,” she lacks purr and carries only an astringent coldness in her tone: a sureness that grows more so even when Carnage himself slithers and floats- moves close. “I will rule. If I must I will take any in my path who wish to prevent this- and I will lay them bare before their maker and then drag them to the leviathans below to drown eternal.”
Her mind is rampant in the thought of them, with flashes of teeth and gore: with memories of bioluminescent glow in the darkness and hooves that walked atop broken shells and husks of chitin long festering with worm and barnacle. She shivers from fever, the porous flesh pulled over muscle and her spattered-gray and black, blue, body resumes its stillness.
“I have made endless pacts with Gods and Monsters, I have long burned away the soul I was born with: broken numerous times, and always prepared to endure the consequence of my belief.” she is more forward in these moments, direct and yet? She still carries a degree of flourish to her words.
Calm, aware, and watching her tendrils reach but do not touch: slither and wriggle along the brine soaked skin and earth. She considers, recalling shadows of memories wherein hers was ruined and remade: where death became her first and only broken promise. Yidhra is quick to meet his stare: to run the radula coated tongue across the beak in her maw.
“I have no blood that I yet belong to, you are correct: mine is flesh and body carved from earth and magic: given to the sea as part of the price. I will do what I must to rule,” devotion, and assuredness she lacks any sense of hesitation. “If that means I accept your blood, than so be it… I accept it. After all, I’m already working so very hard to make sure the first steps of my plans are in order.”
Magic, she knows it’s feeling- the pull and corruption… the want and ambition: a hunger for power, but, more so now than ever she burns for something, for control.
Yidhra
@[Carnage]