singingintheshadow
A rough hand was placed against her cheek as an almost silhouetted figure was placed before her. A creepy, shrilling voice followed his hand touching her cheek as he whispered softly, and almost cryptically. “What a lovely one you ah, my dear.” He...
singingintheshadow Terror knelt before her. Bane's hands reached each other and he popped his knuckles powerfully, tilting his head and allowing it to crack once with each opposing direction. His breathing was heavy still, a clear manifestation of the mystery and crypt, as well as horror, that entailed his being. He spoke in response to her utterly fearful response. "Oppression. It is an interesting sadness, don't you see?" His voice was so high-pitched that it seemed like his device had been tampered with by a child for amusement. He was dressed in a powerful black combat vest, with enormous muscles bulging off each of his four limbs. He brought his hands up to grip his vest tightly. "Now, you must not be completely rendered defenseless, for you are entitled to resistance; but, allow me to assure you, my dear, that resistance remains a vivid exhibition of the manifestation residing within the oppressed." What was he talking about? He pressed on. "I almost had not remembered," he closed his eyes and whispered now, still knelt in front of her, "that you showed me that oppression. When you fled into the theatrical bearing that you attempted to utilize as a sheathing tool, your oppression showed." The monstrous man simply referred to their last encounter, when she had fled from him in the theater-like building and, full of fear, escaped him.
