Post by HST Seth on Aug 5, 2014 5:28:50 GMT
Desiree's hands slammed into the wall, causing it to crack under the pressure of her fist. Octave's body lay among the dead, but away from them. Separate from their disgusting corpses and yet among them, in some heinous insult, because she could not trust her own.
What is wrong with them? Her hand moved to her Priest's face, fingers sliding down his cheek, Are we Camarilla, that a member of our Clergy being assaulted is no reason for our packs to move? Is he expendable now, because you say so..? Desiree's eyes flashed red in her hate, her voice bubbling up with the bile of her vocal chords melting with rage, "How dare you stand between me and him over this? What is he to the Sabbat? How dare you threaten my pack?" She snarled, her beast edging ever closer to the surface of her mind.
Caine's chosen... those of the Clergy are worth more than those who are not..
The image of failure weighed heavily on her mind. The fact that the Sabbat did not mobilize in the defense of her Priest weighed like a rock in her stomach.
Apologies mean nothing.
Sentiments mean nothing.
Untrustworthy.
Archbishop, what are you thinking? Your caution will see us whittled away.
That Carver brought my Priest to be a sacrifice to the damn Werewolves. You will let him stay?
She moved from Octave's body to a sleeping hostage, one already interrogated. Her fingers slid across him, molding his face slowly and carefully into a visage that became more and more like the traitor's. Her hands rested above his beating heart for a moment as she observed his perfect reflection. Her fingers twitched, her eyes grew narrow, and she slowly slid them up his chest as a lover's caress might. His eyes began to flutter as her fingers slid up over the stubble and his ears, fingers finding their way to a circular caress of his skull..
The sound started as a small creak, and his eyes shot open.. Slow, wailing screams began to pour from his chest, trapped in the sound-proof walls of the basement as they rose to a crescendo with the building pressure. The screams echoed in the room and the other men, tied down around her, awoke, their eyes turning to the side and then away in horror. She could hear his breath as it slid in and out of his chest in rapid succession, feel his arms tugging at their restraints in hopes to drive her off him. A desperate rage fueled need to survive filled his eyes, watering from fear and the building pain.
Her head turned upward, her eyes down, a look of pure ecstasy on her face as her hands breached the skull and crushed his brain matter between them. Blood splashed over her upper body like a shower, bits of meat mixed with it where they decided to fall, littering the floor and the nearest of his comrades. His lower jaw still hung, slack with his cries.
Her tongue slid across her cheek, lapping up the stray blood there as her hands allowed the carnage to slip free of her bloody fingers.
"You better hope he doesn't die."