Convict No.314
@ConvictedPathos
IhavetofindherIhavetofindherIhavetofindherIhavetofindherIhavetofindher . . . [TW: Murder, Gore. Do not follow if you can't handle said things.]
Her voice, a voice that was never able to be freely used, echoes out. A final cry from a dying child. "I'm sorry . . ."
-- the middle, her head tilted as she watched @AccursedSavior move along the empty streets. Hunger. She needed to devour her.
-- spindly limbs, carved from her very bones, were outstretched, four hands pushing against each wall of this alley. The child hung from --
-- something within the child. Hatred. Irrational, maddening hatred. Another hiss, her multiple arms twitching to bring her closer. The --
-- twitched and scanned the streets. Then something caught her eye. The silvery gray of armor. It shone like the moon, the sight inciting --
-- hungry again. She needed more food. To eat. To kill. Her eyes, shattered like cheap glass, her pupils reflected thirty times over, --
-- over the rough brick wall, digging into the red stone as easily as a child sinking their fingers into clay. Hunger. Hunger. She was --
A low hiss left her bloody lips. The red painted teeth were exposed, painted crimson with a young man's life. Her clawed hands traversed --
DRIP . . . DRIP . . . DRIP . . . Her jaws were broken, stretched into a mad, leering grin. Jagged teeth filled her false smile . . .
DRIP . . . DRIP . . . DRIP . . . Her fingers curled around bones, breaking and shattering them. Black sludge would replace the pieces . . .
The click of extra limbs. They extend from her back, the chintinous spikes squirming and weaving thick strings of wire.
The sound of bone cracking, melting into the cruel sound of raspy cackling. @rinshankouhai
A raspy hiss, her clawed hands peeling muscle from bone. Her fingers are jointed like a doll's, bone peeking out from her dirty skin.
She coughs. A tooth hits the ground. She simply stares at it, the bloody piece on the ground. Her mouth is numb. Yet she can feel it.
-- each shift of her finger. It hurts. It always hurts, but now the pain is a part of her. Stitched into her very soul.
Her fingers are shaking. The slender digits are stretched, curled like the claws of some violent animal. She can hear bone crack with --
-- It was just a day in the dark. Another day of the cold rain and howling wind. Another day where a piece of her humanity was devoured.
-- same. Even outside the prison, when she thought she might finally have /someone/, even that was nothing in the end. Lies. Lies. LIES. --
-- eyes. A rib cracking cough rattled her small frame, flecks of pink and dull red leaving her lips. Christmas alone. It was always the --
Her fingers brushed hair from the doll's face. Blood was seeping from the digits, leaving streaks of crimson. It leaked from her nose and --
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