08-18-2015, 07:34 PM
I wanted to leave something besides a blood trail,
besides prayers growing stale on my tongue.
She stands quietly along the outskirts of the Chamber as she observes the other members going about their day. This has always been one of her favorite past times, to live vicariously through others as they experience their own joys and sorrows simultaneously. Cellar secretly takes great interest in their experiences, shares in their emotions as they are expressed or hidden away beneath a false smile. There is a faint smirk along her own lips until she hears the demanding voice of Gyffen as he calls her name. His voice is delighted and it makes her stomach turn. Death is not a thing she finds much happiness in.
Still, the serpent girl begins to move toward his call until she spies them standing near one another. There is a familiar shade of red splattered and trickling along the stranger's body. Her head hangs a little lower as she closes the last bit of distance between them, though her eyes do not leave the nameless one. Time to show me what you got. Cellar's ears turn toward him but her face remains stoic as she swallows hard. Killing never got easier, not for her at least. She set fire to a little piece of herself each time she watched her venom take hold of someone.
"I am Cellar, and I am sorry," she mumbles as she moves closer to the girl. Their sides touch, gentle and barely there as the barbs stand at attention all across her skin. The serpent leans only a fraction of her weight against the stranger to send them pricking across the other's side, releasing countless drops of the toxin into Stricken's bloodstream. It never takes long for it to go to work, ripping the blood cells apart and ensuring they cannot clot. The feeling isn't noticeable at first, but within minutes the blood will find its way from her eyes and gums. The wounds Gryffen delivered will soon drain her, leaving her to suffer a slow death. Cellar thinks it must feel like a new level of agony, judging by the faces she's watched in the past.
She steps back far enough to leave the other's reach and waits with unblinking eyes. Tyrael had always commanded her to watch, to fully appreciate her own work and carry the burden of what she had done.
"You probably expedited this process, beating her like that," she says without looking at him.
Cbesides prayers growing stale on my tongue.
She stands quietly along the outskirts of the Chamber as she observes the other members going about their day. This has always been one of her favorite past times, to live vicariously through others as they experience their own joys and sorrows simultaneously. Cellar secretly takes great interest in their experiences, shares in their emotions as they are expressed or hidden away beneath a false smile. There is a faint smirk along her own lips until she hears the demanding voice of Gyffen as he calls her name. His voice is delighted and it makes her stomach turn. Death is not a thing she finds much happiness in.
Still, the serpent girl begins to move toward his call until she spies them standing near one another. There is a familiar shade of red splattered and trickling along the stranger's body. Her head hangs a little lower as she closes the last bit of distance between them, though her eyes do not leave the nameless one. Time to show me what you got. Cellar's ears turn toward him but her face remains stoic as she swallows hard. Killing never got easier, not for her at least. She set fire to a little piece of herself each time she watched her venom take hold of someone.
"I am Cellar, and I am sorry," she mumbles as she moves closer to the girl. Their sides touch, gentle and barely there as the barbs stand at attention all across her skin. The serpent leans only a fraction of her weight against the stranger to send them pricking across the other's side, releasing countless drops of the toxin into Stricken's bloodstream. It never takes long for it to go to work, ripping the blood cells apart and ensuring they cannot clot. The feeling isn't noticeable at first, but within minutes the blood will find its way from her eyes and gums. The wounds Gryffen delivered will soon drain her, leaving her to suffer a slow death. Cellar thinks it must feel like a new level of agony, judging by the faces she's watched in the past.
She steps back far enough to leave the other's reach and waits with unblinking eyes. Tyrael had always commanded her to watch, to fully appreciate her own work and carry the burden of what she had done.
"You probably expedited this process, beating her like that," she says without looking at him.
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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