Tuktu Weir I created the sound of madness

She remained staring down at it for a moment, a soft hum of consideration falling from her fire-streaked throat as she studied her project. The witch was just about to turn when the sound of Nikan's voice came from behind her. 

Pixie turned, ears pricking at the questions the darkling asked. The girl thought again of Ethos's abhorrence at seeing her creation and how she had avoided his questions on who exactly she was worshipping. Her mismatched gaze met his and Pixie was certain this was a male who would not take no for an answer. 

Bowing her head in acquiescence; she gave up her secrets.

"It was devotion," she breathed, the words wild with some emotion - insanity perhaps. "Mmm, I can't deny that the taste isn't so bad," she dipped her head again, lapping at the freely bleeding wound on her shoulder. The taste of blood had become associated with the craft since a young age and in time it was not so hard for the child to stomach - in time Pixie had come to love it. Her mouth came away exploding with the coppery tang and her lips smeared with her own blood. 

"But it isn't for me. It's for the gods," she says it reverently for if there's one thing she fears as much as she loves - it's her gods.