[Seviilia's grip is iron, and she takes Asuka's hand mercilessly. If this little girl wants to play in the big leagues, then she says let her.
There is no filter on this memory, as they occupy one mind together -- Seviilia's mind, stalking the blizzard winds of Northrend. A terrified band of clergymen, huddled together with their maces and shields, shouting over one another to try and find their way home. There's a distinct crunch and feral growl that causes them to go silent, raising their weapons in preparation. What falls on them is a small undead horde, which they separate combat easily.
What they aren't expecting is the monster that falls upon them next. One by one, Seviilia descends upon them as their hubris pulls them away from their squadmates. One, she decapitates without fanfare, runeaxe cleaving into the ice beneath them until it stains red. The one who comes to assist him doesn't see her fast enough, and her claws sink themselves directly into his throat. He chokes on his own boiling blood, screaming and struggling until there is nothing left of him.
And she is hungry. Each slaughter lessens it, replaces it with a strange euphoria indescribable by any other act or emotion. The next soldier has their weapon arm torn from them, crushed uselessly, neck snapped in one swift motion. The last one had fled -- and she hunts him like a creature possessed, her eyesight is crystal clear in the sheet of hail that falls around her. And the moment she spots him, he is pulled by one whip-snap of shadow magic into her waiting claws. She breaks his ribs with one fist, and he dies instantly.
That is when she releases Asuka's hand. Seviilia's hunger sits heavy in her stomach, unchanged by the viscera she's shared with her new Nestmate. But the euphoria, that stays -- a distant memory, a sort of yearning she can't quench.]
cw: gore
There is no filter on this memory, as they occupy one mind together -- Seviilia's mind, stalking the blizzard winds of Northrend. A terrified band of clergymen, huddled together with their maces and shields, shouting over one another to try and find their way home. There's a distinct crunch and feral growl that causes them to go silent, raising their weapons in preparation. What falls on them is a small undead horde, which they separate combat easily.
What they aren't expecting is the monster that falls upon them next. One by one, Seviilia descends upon them as their hubris pulls them away from their squadmates. One, she decapitates without fanfare, runeaxe cleaving into the ice beneath them until it stains red. The one who comes to assist him doesn't see her fast enough, and her claws sink themselves directly into his throat. He chokes on his own boiling blood, screaming and struggling until there is nothing left of him.
And she is hungry. Each slaughter lessens it, replaces it with a strange euphoria indescribable by any other act or emotion. The next soldier has their weapon arm torn from them, crushed uselessly, neck snapped in one swift motion. The last one had fled -- and she hunts him like a creature possessed, her eyesight is crystal clear in the sheet of hail that falls around her. And the moment she spots him, he is pulled by one whip-snap of shadow magic into her waiting claws. She breaks his ribs with one fist, and he dies instantly.
That is when she releases Asuka's hand. Seviilia's hunger sits heavy in her stomach, unchanged by the viscera she's shared with her new Nestmate. But the euphoria, that stays -- a distant memory, a sort of yearning she can't quench.]
But not as cold as it could be.