Dygra
"Your trinkets are worthless here, little dark one."
The voice that vibrates and rings through the walls of obsidian is deeper than one might expect; sensuality dripping with confidence and power, it will rumble right through to Edmund's bones.
"My children may be heat and stone, but they are more alive than any starwalker of Safrin," she continues, and within the bowl, the Abandoned will notice his offering beginning to melt. "We are passion and darkness, fire and blood."
Beneath his feet, through a crack in the ground, what look like rubies begin to bubble and spill to the surface. Forming a vague tentacle shape, they begin to coil around Edmund's ankles. "It is in you, too," Dygra observes. "If you would be reborn to me, I ask for no baubles or jewellery. You are enough of an offering."
The voice that vibrates and rings through the walls of obsidian is deeper than one might expect; sensuality dripping with confidence and power, it will rumble right through to Edmund's bones.
"My children may be heat and stone, but they are more alive than any starwalker of Safrin," she continues, and within the bowl, the Abandoned will notice his offering beginning to melt. "We are passion and darkness, fire and blood."
Beneath his feet, through a crack in the ground, what look like rubies begin to bubble and spill to the surface. Forming a vague tentacle shape, they begin to coil around Edmund's ankles. "It is in you, too," Dygra observes. "If you would be reborn to me, I ask for no baubles or jewellery. You are enough of an offering."
