[So many questions. So many voices, chattering and searching, on the edge of her own. Prying and peering. Peeling at the walls. She indulges them, the way she has so much and so often. For so long.]
You could say that.
[Mother has stopped, in the center of the space. The impassive mask of her expression crumbles slowly, but even those behind can hear the tremble in her voice. Rich with emotion, echoes pulsing through the slender strands of her connections as she stares ahead. Swelling from her form in waves, tangible even without the bond to follow.
Grief, ancient and overpowering.
Loathing.
Vengeance.
And at the core of that, a savage, desperate joy.]
Thank you.
For bringing me here.
[The words echo, a sibilant whisper of motion in the shadowed edges of the room. Like something slithering inside the walls.]
no subject
You could say that.
[Mother has stopped, in the center of the space. The impassive mask of her expression crumbles slowly, but even those behind can hear the tremble in her voice. Rich with emotion, echoes pulsing through the slender strands of her connections as she stares ahead. Swelling from her form in waves, tangible even without the bond to follow.
Grief, ancient and overpowering.
Loathing.
Vengeance.
And at the core of that, a savage, desperate joy.]
Thank you.
For bringing me here.
[The words echo, a sibilant whisper of motion in the shadowed edges of the room. Like something slithering inside the walls.]