Noctisardor Bypass tell me lies, tell me painted truths

A voice came first. Was it Indra? Baby? Laurel called out hoarsely in response. As she looked up, her gaze following the voice, she saw splotches of tan and white. Lucas? Incredulous tone, but loving with a mother's touch. It was impossible. Lucas was dead! But her blurred sight told her that it was him. But the voice... It was a different, familiar voice. Her disjointed mind tried to make sense of it all, but the problem was that it didn't make sense.

Don't get distracted, dearest. You haven't struck a deal yet. If you ever want to recover, you know what you have to do.

Tears, dried and fresh mingled, stung at the corners of her eyes. She had told him never, but what choice did she have? To die and never see her baby girl again, or to strike a deal with this.. man. It disgusted her that these were the options she had.

Not long after another arrived. Calling her voice. Laurel. Wicked and sing-song, just like Merrick's voice. A hint of love to the edges of that name as it was spoken. Laurel. Again. The touch was rough and shocked her into reality. Eyes snapped wide open abruptly as she looked up at him. Through blurred vision she saw his dark fur, greyed edges --

No, he was dead! She saw him die with her own eyes!

Say it. Cold, demanding. The voice of a man who was not dead at all.

The presence of Lucas with the strangely familiar female voice lingered in the distance, but he was now the apparition, as her worst nightmare sat right next to her, fur mingling with hers as he assessed her open, blood-stained, messed up shoulder. Other than that she only had a few more shallow wounds across her body. Funny. Laurel had never taken Iliksis to be a healer. Maybe he was just hurting her for the fun of it, though.

Laurel weakly lifted her head while her wounds were assessed. Her body trembled, shuddered at every touch. Then quite suddenly Laurel pressed her head up against him, feeling his warm, blood-stained fur and shuddering at the thought of what she was doing. But he had said -- she knew she had not other choice.

Words were choked out at last through wretched sobs, unmistakably involuntary: I love you. ... And...? Bated breath. I'll b-be yours forever. The words were barely audible, low and shameful and submissive, nothing like her usual self; meant only for his ears, because it would be unbearable if anyone else heard her submission to this monster. She looked away, to the ground, shame washing over her once more. It was overwhelming, and it made her wish that she had not given in; that she had accepted death's embrace and giving up on her chances at revenge instead.

Now, there's a good girl. My dearest Laurel. She couldn't even tell if the voice was in the cave or her head.

Laurel, stand. The promised delivery. The promised strength. Yes, dearest. Oh, my sweet Laurel, mine at last. I will make you strong. I will give you teeth and claw to bring him down. I will deliver the world to your feet, if that's what you desire. The laughter was chilling. Laurel once more tried to get to her feet, like she tried before. She wasn't sure if anyone was helping her -- Iliksis, or maybe Lucas? -- but finally she managed to bite through the pain and rise, at last.