"You smell."
In the worst way, in the way of love and hate. She snarls at him. There is something distinctly wrong with this one. There are a few people who smell in that way, the stink of flesh upon them. Not in the ritual way of Anastasia, beloved Anastasia, but in a way she found foul. In a way that, perhaps a myriad ago, she would not have found so repulsive. But now it reminds her of things she wishes she could forget, and her hands lamely grasps for a sword that is not there.
"Explain yourself."
He is garbed in the way of a bone priest, but he is not. He is mocking her. Smelling of him while representing her in Alecto's broken mind.
"Speak."
@bloodprcst












