frey
"Now see—" The creature suddenly explodes into a thousand shimmering pieces, one of which will kill Ronin. For now though the Loreseeker is positioned right at the heart of it where the shrapnel begins. Time stops, the pieces held in mid air. There, in the centre, is a fully artificial device. A fail-safe meant to detonate should the creature's health become too low. Is it a kindness, meant to put it out of its misery? Or has its creator turned its last moments of agony into triumph by making it a bomb?
The explosion continues and Frey allows the pair of them to be blown away into the ether, the deity wrapping around Amalia like a second skin that can endure the blast even as they are rocketed outwards and upwards. Time skips again and now they are in the Spire.
"Would you like an audience?" Frey asks in a silken whisper, and for a moment Amalia sees them in the third person. The assembled group staring at the Voice and the Core, and there in the corner is Amalia: naked, contorted, sweat beading down her hair, her cheeks flushed and the smell of sex wafting off of her. "We could invite them all, if you like?"
The explosion continues and Frey allows the pair of them to be blown away into the ether, the deity wrapping around Amalia like a second skin that can endure the blast even as they are rocketed outwards and upwards. Time skips again and now they are in the Spire.
"Would you like an audience?" Frey asks in a silken whisper, and for a moment Amalia sees them in the third person. The assembled group staring at the Voice and the Core, and there in the corner is Amalia: naked, contorted, sweat beading down her hair, her cheeks flushed and the smell of sex wafting off of her. "We could invite them all, if you like?"
