( @electricmaestro wants to get weird. )
Fingers flutter forth, pressing pallid pads against the forehead of this favored form. She applies pressure, encouraging pain to prosper within this person, all the while she wears a mask that hides her maturing malice. It could’ve been worse; out of anger, she would’ve uttered the woman’s name as if it were an obscenity, crafting curses onto her creation. She was reckless for revealing that aspect of her identity, knowing full well that the moment the banshee breathed her title, she would’ve been tarnished. But perhaps that’s why she didn’t do it; because this fragile frame put so much faith into a deity affiliated with death. It wounds her to inflict such sour sentiments, so she suppresses the pessimism. ❛ I’m starting to think you like seeing us lose. I thought you wanted to wreck this world with me. ❜
