Northstar Vale – did it forge a love that you might have never found? (chl.)

“Get this o-out of me, pleasemn'Idon'twant –,”
She is crumbling marble; pleading with features writhing in fragments of fury-fear even as this horror bodice-ripper tears at her insides and cleaves into all niches where she trembles the most terrified. She is reeking of hideous hexes and the stench of a scourage. Not me go away go away go away, but her will is undone, unraveled for it is beyond her and devotional to a creature god; deep, primal dark from far before wolf knew tongue that was other than gurgling and growling and she growls; a burbling and blasphemed she-animal noise at the taste of devilsbreath within her. It moans and creaks with an old, corrupted throat, hot and ashy so she chokes on it still, tongue spilling from the keep of her teeth in pants heavy and harried; he is here
and though she is not within the vestiges of season she is balefire; a festering flame that gobbles up her innards and clots bile in her throat.  “Mel—”

Damp, fetid rainsweat frothing flanks;
she finds she cannot reach him, reach for him, frozen and trembling in abject despair and make not another noise. Half of her needs his teeth in her flesh somewhere everywhere; half of her strains against her own marrow and pines for dominion but Andraste  —  tonttu  —  is fraying, frenzied, and assumes some bracing stance. Him, him;
conquer me dominate you help me please help me I can't won't can't do this I need you please please and salt knives and gouges grooves down down down the ruined moon-face of her; some soulthing wailing that he must see her this way; that they all have and she is helpless, headless.