( SEMI-CLOSED. )

[conqueress]

CHARACTERS: Daenerys and friends! Also """friends""".
DATE: End of February into the third week of March.
WARNINGS: Gore, cannibalism, fire, death.
SUMMARY: Bounties, close calls, bird dragons, and encroaching madness.

[ Prompts in the comments! Poke me via PM and I'll write you something. ]

Comments

anakin, to catch a cat ( early march )

[conqueress]

[ When Dany had learned that the Astapori were tipping over food wagons and killing her soldiers, she had insisted upon delivering the aid herself. With her had come her Unsullied, Ser Barristan, and her Dothraki, and the distribution had gone without incident.

The retrieval of a cat, however beloved, is unworthy of a queen's assistance, but the same might be said of much and more that she has done across worlds. She is half sick of hiding behind the walls of the apartment she shares with Ahad and Loki. In Meereen she had ruled behind such walls, but here she is only awaiting a fate whilst Audentes quarrels amongst itself. The scarf she dons over her nose and mouth is for Anakin's sake (to begin), the bird she bears upon her shoulder for her own.

It is not a pet she seeks, but the truth of what is being done to the people below the streets.

The stink of the sewers sends Dany's belly to roiling even with the cover of her half mask, and it is all she can do not to retch. Once I won Meereen with sewer rats, she tells herself as they keep near the walls, avoiding the vile river that passes through the center of this passageway. If my people did not flinch from the stench, I must do the same.

Drogon abandons her shoulder to fly ahead of them, parallel to the muck and banking right down another tunnel. She lowers her scarf to speak. ]

Drogon flies like that when he is hunting, [ she tells her companion, trying to ignore the air's taste. If the water were not ripe enough, they have also passed the decayed limbs of some poor soul, scattered over many paces. ] It may be that he has found a rat.

[apoptotic]

I hope his new body holds up to his old diet. Here.

[ anakin extends his hand to her — the gloved — to help her across a slippery patch. the durasteel fingers are steady under her grip. the other holds a black slender flashlight that emits a strong, white beam. the light illuminates damp walls and fouler floors.

the sewers are more fetid than he remembers. they come upon more evidence every few feet. that not only are there people here, but they're feeding off of more than meat products tossed to them from above. one piece, less decayed than most, showed darkened veins. years of training allowed him to make the connection with little more than narrowed eyes and a curl of distaste to his mouth.

tipping his head in the direction where drogon disappeared, anakin warns, ] I sense it too. Stay close.

[conqueress]

[ A gallant gesture. Her hands, fine-boned and delicate where they knit against his false metal ones, belie the firm intent in her grasp, and she steps nimbly over the patch with his aid. When this is done, all that will stop her from having her clothes disposed of is the knowledge that her wardrobe already comprises so little. ]

A dragon's appetite may wax and wane, [ she answers, sweetly, ] but I have learned that fire is always hungry.

[ Calm though she seems, they are in dangerous territory. There are a number of tunnels leading off to the right, and still more down the left if they were to walk another fifty paces, with foul-smelling runoff seeping through grates. If the smell and the water do not trouble the infected, then little remains to deter them from setting upon their search party. But Dany has seen two demonstrations of Anakin's gifts now, and they were enough to persuade her that he is more than capable enough to shield her, if need be. For now, she pays keen attention to sounds, and to where they stand. A conqueror must know some passage of retreat, even if she does not mean to suffer defeat.

Her hand tightens on his in acknowledgment of the warning, more out of instinct than conscious intent to notify a metal hand, and then she lets him go. ]

How many? [ she inquires, her voice lower now. Drogon has not screeched to give her warning; perhaps they are indisposed. ]

[apoptotic]

I can't be sure. [ eyes narrowed, gaze focused ahead— yet he does not search the space with either eyes or ears. anakin opens himself to the force and he can sense the walls around them without touching them, the meters of rock and earth, of concrete overlying copper, steel and iron. life blooms like so much light in the force, but there's so much of it… ]

The Force is created by living things, [ he explains as he resumes the path. ] I can feel Drogon; I can feel the air on his wings. I can feel others too — but there's many down here. [ and every living being above. ] The tunnel system also makes it harder to tell their proximity. But I definitely feel something ahead.

[ anakin finds dany over his shoulder. his manner adopts the firmness of a jedi knight; the directness of a soldier. removing the gun again from its holster, anakin positions it underneath the flashlight. ]

Stay behind me.

asher, i hate to bug you in the middle of dinner ( early march )

[conqueress]

[ With the police stretched thin and the looting often enough to make restocking the grocery shelves a useless endeavor, Woodhurst shambles its way into lawlessness.

And the infected, their numbers flourishing, grow bolder.

It is mid-day, and for now, Dany finds herself buried beneath the weight of her lion pelt, cutting away chunks of half-cooked meat on a plate. Loki is oft the one of their three who cooks for them, and her own, fledgling skills at the stove leave much to be desired. I am too impatient, that's all, she tells herself, chewing a mouthful of red, I am the blood of the dragon, and I will learn.

It is not that she has begun to crave the taste. She is hungry, though. So hungry that nothing less than the horrifying, ear-piercing scream of a man in pain that is enough to startle her from her meal. Drogon hisses in answer from his resting place atop the windowsill, and then she is setting her plate aside and running to the window. There, struggling on the ground in the street, is an old man--and settling greedily atop him is a much younger one.

STOP, the man wails. SOMEONE HELP ME! SOMEBODY HELP ME! HELP! The cries are as pitiful as they are horrific, and with no one else home, Dany finds herself plucking up the knife she had used. Her heart giving a lurch, she flees out the door and down the building stairs with Drogon the false bird fluttering close behind her. If it must be that she is the first to reach the man, then so be it. She will summon more aid as needed. ]

i'm so sorry that u had 2 wait for this

[moneyballer]

[This is a dangerous situation for him to be in, although he's been doing his best to be as stealthy as possible on his hunt for supplies.

"""supplies""" meaning things like... nutella??? deodorant, soap, possibly lube...]

Ugh, what is that-

[The stench of rotting flesh hits his nostrils first, although that unpleasant sensation is followed by that blood curdling scream. His head snaps in the direction of that call, although he Daenerys leaps first. The logical thing to do would be rushing to the victim's aid, but instead, he chooses to do the following.]

Even in the middle of the zombie apocalypse-

[He utters, mouth open wide in awe-]

Queen D is slaying the game.

Go get 'em, girl!

[she can't

she can't hear u]

never apologize!

[conqueress]

[ Boots leaving small imprints in the snowy sidewalk and brandishing a steak knife, Queen D is indeed slaying. ]

Enough! [ she cries, forcefully enough that her voice carries through the wintry air. Her boots nearly skid from the lack of friction in the middle of the road, but she sets upon the attacker with a hand seizing his collar with a sharp tug, a knife pressing to his throat. She does not turn the blade, praying that the feel of cold metal shall be deterrent enough, but instead he snarls, straining to get back to his prey. The man, lying with his back on the ice, looks up at her in a daze, his rheumy blue eyes wide and desperate in their horror. ]

Enough, [ she repeats, more gently this time. Her fingers slide beneath the collar of the attacker's shirt, which is drenched in sweat even amidst the cold. Ignoring the slippery feeling, she begins to stroke the back of his neck, as she would a cat.

There are eyes upon them, Dany senses, and with a glance over her shoulder, she sights them. There are people here, staring, some watching from the comfort of being behind their windows. One woman stands on her balcony, a hand clasped over her mouth. Three men are standing halfway in the road, as though caught between some instinct to come to her aid and frightened for their own health. Another stands as though transfixed, his face known to her. ]

Who will help me save these men? [ she demands, setting her sights onto Asher. One. I need only one, and the rest shall follow. ]

ahad, she's so high ( early march )

[conqueress]

[ Once, on the morning of her wedding to Hizdahr, Missandei had chided her with a seriousness beyond her years. Your Grace needs more than wine to break her fast. You are such a tiny thing.

Dany had laughed, but now she wonders what the girl would say. For days now, their supply of food has dwindled significantly. It does not come all at once, for even a few bites are enough to stuff her stomach for one sitting; now, though, she returns again the next hour, and the next, and then the half hour.

But food grows scarcer on the shelves, and soon it will be impractical to devour as much as she does. She tries to ration, as she and Viserys had done when she was a little girl relying upon her beggar brother, and in the end she only eats twice as much. When Ahad had explained the properties of his blood, she had dismissed the idea. Today even the freezer is empty, and if it is as he says, perhaps a small amount may settle her stomach. ]

Tell me again of its effects, [ she invites. They are seated on the couch for comfort, Dany bundled into the warmth of a nineties sweater and her lion pelt as she gazes at him. Their kitchen is too sterile for sipping at blood. ]

[dailydouble]

[ The food disappearing wasn't the only sign that something wasn't right, and not even the most obvious to Ahad. Dany felt wrong, and there was only one disease spreading among the people here. The spread of the disease was discomforting enough, but Dany being effected made it worse. At a loss for ways to contain her hunger without harming her, he had eventually suggested something he had not intended to share with mortals again.

Whether it calmed her or left her with a greater taste for god's flesh was yet to be seen. The former seemed more likely, but there was always the possibility of the later. ]

Euphoric, without being addictive. If nothing else, it should make you forget your hunger for a time.

[conqueress]

[ Only twice before has she ever been offered something beyond the ordinary to drink, and agreed to it. The first time had been horse's blood, a tolerance she had won through repeated drinking, so that she could complete the ceremony in Vaes Dothrak. The second drink had been shade of the evening, a blue liquid consumed to excess by the warlocks of Qarth, and it had shown her visions beyond count.

Euphoric, though ... she has felt like that only once. ]

Should, [ she repeats. It is such a flimsy word on her tongue. After a brief pause to collect her misgivings and put them aside, she decrees, ] Let us say will, for now.

[ She is strong still, resolute, speaking and planning as though there is nothing amiss. ]

Have you any warnings for me? [ She knows well that this suggestion must not have come easily. Surely no one, not even a god, can love the notion of distributing his blood for consumption. One of her hands falls over his, and she adds, with a deliberate slyness, ] I may giggle. Many times, perhaps.

[ She speaks of it as though it is a terrible thing, but making light of things grounds her when all the rest is serious. ]

[dailydouble]

[ He'll gently slide his hand out from under hers, but does smile slightly as if to soften the action. ]

Try not to float away? [ There's a slight pause. ] Should I move, before I cut myself?

morgue madness (lmk if this works for you!)

[racking]

[ Even knowing he'd been bitten and infected, Shiro had thought it was something that he could control. In a way, he felt like knowing he'd already been infected made things easier. He didn't have anything to lose while dealing with other infected townspeople. As for the long term consequences, Shiro wasn't about to start considering them. The mission had to come first.

But his head is pounding. His stomach feels hollow; he feels starved. At times, it's so much that he can't concentrate. He has to dip away from the bustle of the hospital. Shiro's pulled the hood of his sweatshirt up as he pushes through one door, then another.

Maybe the morgue was a smart place to have gone. Shiro was seeking quiet, but he has a split second to consider that maybe there might be something here to look for.

But Shiro stops short the minute he crosses the threshold. He's unreasonably irritated to find the morgue occupied by someone living. ]

Do you work here?

[ It's more abrupt than Shiro would typically lead with. He feels vaguely bad, but he can't...there's no curbing his frustration. He's never felt less in control of that emotion than he is now. ]

it's perfect! oh no, shiro ......

[conqueress]

[ The footsteps come swift and purposeful, almost aggressive in their sound as they beat upon the floor. It is warning enough to alert Dany to the sound, but when he bursts into the room, his face half hooded, her hand is still upon the knife she had reached for, lying on a sterile tray.

He is no doctor, she can see. All the same, she does not recognize him, and a cursory look does not reveal any Magitek. What she does recognize is his anger.

Her false glasses lie some feet away from the tray, her hair tinted a darker color than its silver. It is nothing that will remain in her hair with a few washes. Her own hoodie lies discarded on the floor, dropped in her haste as soon as she'd shed it to reach for a weapon. Even a small blade is better than none. Her shoulders are squared, her chin lifted, but she is prepared to put the wheeled table with the tray between them, if she must. Somehow, even cornered, she is regal. ]

I am no doctor.

[ The calmness of her voice belies the way her heart drums away in her breast. It is not his size that makes her wary, though he has the look of a warrior. It is the way he demands it of her, the way he storms in like a charging bull. ]

Examine the room, if that is your desire. [ Her breathing is carefully even, but the scalpel is held neatly in her hand. ] We have no quarrel with one another.

sorry dany :c

[racking]

[ He can take her, even with the scalpel. Shiro makes that inference even though the fog of anger in his head. Sizing up any given threat is automatic; Shiro had more than learned the necessity of that approach in the arena. He stutters forward a step, then forcibly stops himself and takes a deep breath. ]

I didn't think anyone was going to be here.

[ There's no walking back the force behind his initial request. He can try, but right now diplomacy requires too much finesse for him. He presses his bare left hand to the exam table and hopes that the cool metal would ground him. ]

You should go. Please.

[ He's struggling with himself. The scalpel outrages him. It hooks into the deep-seated guilt over what he is now; he's a threat and a monster and this woman could see it at a glance. Shiro could rationalize it better under any other circumstances, but right now he just can't seem to let it go. ]

welp

[conqueress]

[ She wishes to go, to flee, but the step he took toward her was menacing, however halted. Something fights at him, something he can scarce control, and with ice in her breast, it dawns on her.

He is infected. He may attack me, if I let him.

He may have stopped himself, but he is between her and her way out. That, more than the possibility of being lunged at as she tries to run, troubles her. Drogon at least had been simple: angry, and wounded, and vengeful. This is a man, not a dragon, and she cannot whip him out of his frenzy. ]

Then leave me.

[ The command is still spoken calmly, but it is firm. Her heart has quickened: Anakin is in another wing of the hospital now, and by now the rest of her team will be evacuating toxicology. She had given the signal over the PA system. If she sent them a message, would they come to her side quickly enough? She should put down the scalpel; perhaps it is the weapon that enrages him.

But if she does that, then she will truly be defenseless. Unconsciously, her hand tightens around the handle. ]

Go and stand in the opposite corner, so that I might find my way to the door.

[ So that she knows he will let her go. ]

loki, to see a little bit clearer the rottenness and evil in me ( late march )

[conqueress]

[ The fourth week nears its end, and Dany ceases to gaze at herself in the looking-glass.

She is paler than before, and now utterly without color. Her violet eyes are ringed in gray, and when Ahad and Loki speak, she is oft left to gaze at them in silence, leaning. She is weary, too, and plagued by rage. Though she does not give voice to what troubles her, she knows that Ahad at least can sense it. She is hungry, and no longer for legumes or grains.

She has come to crave them almost as much as she loves them, and the knowledge when the apartment is empty one afternoon makes her sob. But everything upon her face was dry, as she knew it must be. The blood of the dragon does not weep, and the day turns to night, as ever.

Loki cooks for them still, puttering about the kitchen as though he were its king. Perhaps he is. Dany finds herself admiring the grace of his limbs and his movements on this day, but before too long, she hears whispers of something else. There is another admirer within her, and it does not care for form. She gazes at the lemon tree in her ALASTAIR ring until it passes.

By the time he places a raw meat patty on a bun, though, she finds herself rising in a rare haze of affection. In the past her kitchens have cooked her meals, and before then, her handmaids had brought her her food. It is good of him to feed me, she thinks, coming up behind him. Her arms slide about his waist, warm and certain, and she rises on tiptoe to kiss his shoulder. ]

It smells splendid, [ she sighs. This pleasantness will be fleeting, and within minutes her sickness shall turn her against him again, finding fault with all that he does. But for a moment, she feels free. ]

[selfimage]

[ it's not difficult to tell something's wrong, especially not to someone who pays close attention to detail. while his senses are not so broad as Ahad's, he can feel the slight difference from how she normally feels. she's like an imprint on reality, making a little dent inward. he knows her little dent, and it's turned to something more of a wrinkle.

her temper flares up like flame, both smoldering to embers and rising like a freshly kindled fire. surprisingly, he deflects the insults and anger thrown his way like a pro. his father and his brother are both prone to their bouts of foul moods, and she is neither a god nor large enough in stature to pose a problem on that front.

when he cooks the burgers, he does makes sure that they're rare. Loki is a rare sight in the kitchen, leaning here and there effortlessly, like he knew exactly what he was doing. he did, partially, but he never liked looking like he didn't know what he was doing. he adds the fifth to half a bun, setting down the spatula on the counter when he feels her slim arms around his waist.

his breath deflates from his belly, and he puts a hand over hers. he's warm. ]

And I'm not even going to ask for anything.

[ nice dinners like this usually came with a Loki wants something behind it.

usually, but lately it's been a little different. ]

[conqueress]

[ The jape might have been enough, perhaps, to merit some ire. Instead, she is pressed up against him, and the closeness smooths out the sharp little edges of her reply, rendering it sly rather than insulting. Touch is an ironic remedy for a cruel disease. ]

You have grown wise. There is nothing to give.

[ No, she knows. He has grown worried. She rests her cheek against the back of his shoulder, her toes holding their strength for the moment. ]

A year ago I ate of your bacon sandwiches. Eleven moons ago you took me into the sky.

[ It doesn't feel half so long ago as that, but she has counted the moon's turns and the rising of the sun. Though time may pass strangely between worlds, the estimate is good enough. The smell of scarce-roasted meat fills the air around them, its fragrance tugging at the bowels of her imagination. She can feel the sickness at her gates, its touch greedy and persistent. Please, she thinks, her fingers knotting with his. Only a little longer. Give me that. There is no trace of a war in her voice when she inquires: ]

Do you remember?

[selfimage]

[ there's a difference in her tone that he's noticed since she's become infected. if Loki is anything, he is observant, and by now he knows the details of her movements, the subtle changes on her face when her mood swings, and the small pokes here and there that lead her to irritation. he's a trickster and a thief, and without that, he'd be at a loss for what he does best.

as she draws closer the nostalgia sinks in, and he realizes how long he's been here. how much things have changed. ]

Ah, you say that like I could forget. [ she had been covered in all sorts of filth, at a disarray and starving (much as she is now), but he had still made a point to flirt. ] Now you're a full-fledged bacon lover, as if I've passed it on.

[ casual and easy, but he lets his hand rest on her wrist to keep the contact, a welcoming gesture to invite her to linger as long as she likes. ]

sieglinde, despite all my rage i'm omg everyone knows this one ( early march )

[conqueress]

[ Time is her enemy. As she grows hungrier, that is the only certainty that Dany knows.

And so she has made the decision to inform herself of her options, to start. In all of Audentes, there are none that she trusts to speak the truth to her half so well as Sieglinde. The girl is young, but in matters of science, magic, and medicine, she speaks with an authority Dany cannot hope to achieve. When she had explained where she wished to be taken, and to whom--the labs at the hospital, and to the self-professed Green Witch--securing a covert teleportation had proven easy enough.

Hearing the counsel, Seven save her, is proving much the opposite. Hear it I must, however. ]

What can be done to slow the progression? [ After other questions, there it is: blunt, and an admission of her infection in itself. The lab stools are uncomfortable, but she sits with her hands folded into her lap, one leg tucked beneath the other. ] Are there special foods that I might seek? Poultices?

[ It is unlikely that no one else would have tried a remedy that worked and not dispersed that finding, but she needs to hear it, plainspoken, that she cannot treat her symptoms--only manage them. ]

[grunehexe]

[There is no pleasure to be found in telling a person that there exists no clue for what ails them- and this is not the first consultation Sieglinde has had to this effect, nor does she think it will be her last.

The Green Witch has always considered herself an adult, despite the body that spoke to otherwise. Two of her birth anniversaries have come and gone, and still she showed no sign of growth spurt or puberty... but there was a weariness now to her features that had not been there on the day she had first met the queen that now sat before her, when she'd been wide-eyed and innocent seeming, confronted with her first sight of the ocean.

The transfers she has seen in her time in Audentes had been bad enough, ripping people from her side one after the other despite promises or bonds, but just days before an even worse alternative had reared its head.

Death.

Comforting the one of of her adopted Woodhurst "fathers" that remained living, mourning the loss herself, and continuing her research in the hopes that nothing further bad would happen if they just tried hard enough, if they could just succeed in finding a cure, has left her features somewhat gaunt, eyes red, and looking somehow more a haggard woman than a child. But what else was there to do?]

I am afraid we have only seen limited success with diet management. At first, I hypothesized that a diet rich in hog meat would curb the hunger, and some patients found limited success through that, but some experienced even worse cravings after the introduction of such a... similar meat... which leads me to believe those benefits were purely mental, and so would vary based on your way of thinking.

[All she has is measures to distract, methods to slow... working with Urahara, Sonia, Peter, and other members of the team had yielded a promising vaccine now in the testing stage... but that did nothing for those already infected.]

I do, however, have a powder that when swallowed with drink can momentarily convince the body of a certain fullness, which could assist... but in the short term.

[But her gaze does not waver from meeting Daenerys', no matter her tiredness, no matter the potential bleakness of their discussion.]

[conqueress]

[ Then there is nothing that I may eat to fight the sickness, only to mitigate the signs. At the mention of similar meat, the queen makes a face. Twice she has seen infected walking the streets below her apartments, staggering and gaunt and hollow-eyed. Will that be her, when she has exhausted all the other paths open to her? ]

A few aches, an emptier belly ... I can fight the cravings, if I must, [ she decides, half convincing herself. It may only be the fact that the food is available to her that enables her to gorge. ] Once I lived for four weeks atop a cliff, supping on some reddish leafy vegetable and wild onions.

[ "Some reddish leafy vegetable," meaning she had had no idea what it was. It hadn't made her sick, at least. ]

I will consider the powder, [ she concedes, ] but I have no wish to deplete your stores.

[ And now for the more frightening facet. She crosses one leg over the other, her back impossibly straight. ]

By the fifth week I must prepare for the virus to rob me of my wits. [ It is the only thing she fears across time and worlds, and yet she sounds strangely dispassionate. ] It has only been one. Eight-and-twenty days remain to us. More than that, if the gods are good. [ And perhaps fewer. ] Much and more has been accomplished in a moon's turn. Tell me what you require.

[ There is something queerly remarkable in the transition from consideration of her own plight to practicality, the sharpness of the change almost ruthlessly efficient. The offer of aid is so swift, perhaps, that it may not even be immediately apparent. ]

loki, i'm (not) sick but i'm not well ( late march ) - CW: CANNIBALISM

[conqueress]

[ In desperation, as so many have done before her, Daenerys turns to the wine. Cheap though it is, a bottle of it one evening serves to quell some of her rage, wearying her and weighing her limbs with a heaviness she bears with all of her small frame perched upon the windowsill, her enormous lion pelt arranged in her lap.

Her head is turned toward the window, watching an infected woman shamble her way through the streets below. Snow falls, and with the cessation of plowing, still more shall fall to obstruct her path. That makes Dany feel queer: She is alone outside, and hungry, and still wearing a winter jacket, as though she had put it on one night to go out and simply never returned. No one is calling for her, and no one comes out to offer her a meal in their home. Her belly twists, and the sight is enough to shake off the thoughts of what the woman's arm might taste like in her mouth. That might have been my fate, she thinks. If they did not care for me so much, I might have quite forgotten myself, too.

Her anger is somewhat dampened for the moment, but the hunger persists. She hates the way her heart gives a lurch when the door to their apartment opens to admit Loki, hopeful that he has brought her more food. Loki will bring me meat. Loki does not want me to go hungry. I am so hungry.

Her eyes are overbright and predatory as he crosses the threshold. ]

[selfimage]

[ not the cannibalism nor the anger seem to faze him.

whether it was warranted or not, Loki had spent quite a lot of his life with anger spiked in his direction. when it was thin and driven by temper, he knew how to brush it away and take it in stride. he wouldn't be good at manipulating otherwise.

there's not much left in the city to be had, and whatever he's brought gets discarded somewhere in the kitchen. he mind wanders to the hunger, and the insatiable nature of the disease. some hungers cannot be so easily fed. it's a desperate move to fill something hollow.

whenever he approaches her, it's never like prey. he refuses to be hunted.

instead he takes a long stride toward her, and in an movement that seems easier to him than it normally does, sliding a warm hand from her neck down to the crook of her shoulder. ]

Bad today?

[conqueress]

[ Whence comes this touch? Does he offer it to me because he thinks I am dying?

Like a fast-acting poison, her fury surges even amidst the wine, the thought unforgiving and misplaced and paranoid. A worse impulse stops her from saying the words, the feel of a hand so close tempting at her ravenous appetite. Her fingers curling like angry claws, she seizes his own in a grip that might have hurt him, if gods were not so difficult to hurt.

And yet, it is partly because he has approached her as a person, and spoken to her as such, that she is not the woman in the streets below.

Her nostrils are flared, her eyes awash in fire, but as the contact sinks in, her grip loosens. ]

Do you see my face? [ she demands. She had glimpsed herself in the bathroom looking glass, and half a creature had stared back at her. ] Corpses are lovelier. I would devour you for touching me, if I took you for a man.

[ If she did not know he was a god. She wants to bite him, and she wants to eat the straggler. The wine has made her groggy, though, and so she cups his hand in hers, resting her cheek atop them both on her shoulder. ]