Oh how they cower and quiver from a mere hand, from a gaze in the dark. How a voice has the power to turn three of the most qualified in Halo into skittish kittens. An unsteady and hysterical burst of laughter leaves the shadows, filling the bloody workshop, making the candle flicker and sputter.
”No no.” The voice mutters, that beckoning hand slapping weakly to the floor and dragging more of the bloated, trembling body forwards. ”Thing, one.” Scraggly hair, matted by grime and blood, frames the face, the mouth that still wraps cracked and bloodied lips around silent words.
The body shakes with the effort of pushing itself up from its prone position, even then it it sways, unsteady. ”Come.” Newly insistent, that hand rises again, though it stays clenched in a fist while it’s counterpart lifts, a thin cruel knife locked into its grip. The very edge of the blade is the only part with any shine to it, it’s sharpness easily demonstrated as the cannibal shaves a strip of skin off their arm, flicking it to land at the parties feet. ’Come, eat.”
”No no.” The voice mutters, that beckoning hand slapping weakly to the floor and dragging more of the bloated, trembling body forwards. ”Thing, one.” Scraggly hair, matted by grime and blood, frames the face, the mouth that still wraps cracked and bloodied lips around silent words.
The body shakes with the effort of pushing itself up from its prone position, even then it it sways, unsteady. ”Come.” Newly insistent, that hand rises again, though it stays clenched in a fist while it’s counterpart lifts, a thin cruel knife locked into its grip. The very edge of the blade is the only part with any shine to it, it’s sharpness easily demonstrated as the cannibal shaves a strip of skin off their arm, flicking it to land at the parties feet. ’Come, eat.”
