a spider preaching, with poison on its lips (part LXXIV)

(Roleplay entry. Continued from part LXXIII.)



Sometimes, when the bad thing happens, it changes people. Sometimes they change those around them. And sometimes, it's not precisely a bad thing, but it changes people anyway.

All she knew was...she'd gone dark in a new way. And she'd promised the Duke, she'd promised him, never to go dark around him again, and...she'd meant that, and she meant to keep it, but...he...wasn't...here.

She was.

And so was the rift.



And she was dark enough now to go find the book she'd hidden in the library. Everything she yet remembered about the overlayering of the fae lands, distilled into making bricks inside of bricks inside of spaces inside of walls...and there, she'd left the book. Snarling, hissing...alone.

She should have left it alone.



And she read. The words lifted off the page and became tattoos on the writhing tentacles she fought to retain long enough. Seared across her neurons until her mind felt charred with the knowledge. It manifested in strange ripples underneath her red skin, in shards of metal protruding from her spine, extruding into daggers, floating at her back.



The last word lit her on fire, drove her to her knees, and everything was glowing gold and red and orange and hurt--

She fought to stay silent, to endure, to process, to focus, to drive the fire forward where it needed to go--but she was slipping on the edges.



Drive it forward, point it, refine it, direct it...but it didn't want to go forward, it wanted to slip to the side. It fought to slip to the side, and she was losing the battle. And if she started screaming now, she knew she'd never stop--



And everything was fire, and everything hurt, and she BURNED--

(Continued in part LXXV.)