i see what you are, even if no one else does. @maemen :v
what she is, the question of the century. a mic-mac of stolen parts. bhaal's murderous heartbeat its own cacophony, but taalos' destruction an urge she has not tamed. she is an ill omen wrenched from the salt of the earth, and he looks at her as if he might see beyond the horizon; where the sea has become storm and where nothing can last. she grins at him, lazy and lopsided, as she leans forward. the light of the fire draw strange shadows on her face-- a tangible form becoming liquid in the darkness. only the glowing eyes seem immune to the night's effect.
she doesn't mind that she's a what rather than a who. perhaps she would have, once upon a time. when she was young and stupid and so sure that her soul was hers to destroy rather than a dog toy chewed by two hungry gods.
"and what is that, exactly?", she wonders. perhaps it's a line to invite her back to his bedroll -- she has heard far stranger ones. but this lacks maamon's crude panache. "'cause i know you, lizard, and you're not exactly the discerning type." that's what you have me for, she doesn't say. no need: he'll come to remember it like a drowning, slowly at first and then all at once. @maemen
