by Verdana » Sun Dec 18, 2011 3:41 am
Whack!
Before she knew what was going on, Shay had been grabbed and was slammed viciously into a wall, face-first. She felt her nose grind against the wood, but more importantly, felt her already-battered wrist being twisted. It took all of her self-control not to yell out in pain.
So much for hoping that he wouldn't realise what was going on. He'd known. He'd known the whole time.
The tail, pressed into her neck, released. Shay was alive. Shay was lucky. She had a sneaking feeling that... Nope, feeling was gone. Wiped out by the sheer agony in her wrist. If it wasn't broken, it was very close to it. However, even that couldn't distract Shay from Kuar. He smelled different. Felt different. The Power stirred. Shay tensed, preparing to try and keep the malevolent mind-growth at bay, but the tickling feeling subsided as the Power crept back into its hole, or wherever it was that it resided. Shay watched her unlikely ally-opponent, frowning. He seemed to be pulling himself under control, but Shay did not trust herself to speak. It may have made things worse, or she could have whimpered. Either would have been pretty bad.
Kuar approached her. Shay cringed, and then felt foolish for doing so. In any case, the creature simply wrapped her wrist. It hurt. A shudder ran through her, but she gritted her teeth and bore it stoically. Kuar released her wrist, and said something. Before Shay could take in the implications of it, she was scooped up, and they flew off.
Shay was not afraid of flying, but nobody likes to be taken by surprise. She yelped once, and then shut her eyes tightly. She didn't want to see what was going on. In fact, all she wanted to do was to escape, but that was out of the question. She couldn't fly, and it was a long way down. It felt too familiar. She hated it because she liked it. She had been carried so often, just like this... But Kuar was not who Shay's body was determined to turn him into. Shay did not allow herself to relax, and only opened her eyes when the two of them landed.
She looked into the living-room with interest, despite the pain in her hand. Portraits lined the walls. She observed Kuar's back as he walked away, lined by faces. She recognised some as assassins. Others she did not know. She saw her own face, and subconsciously traced the line of the jaw, the tilt of the nose. That wasn't what she looked like, was it? She had almost forgotten.
There was another face which brought back a keen pang of remembrance. Shay tensed. Her eyes widened. That was Conis. That face. She had run into him once. On his turf.
His turf.
That would mean...
Oh. She understood. It didn't make her feel any better.
She took a step forward, and then swayed. She felt a pressure in the back of her head. It was a horribly familiar sensation.
Kuar... she got out. It was a weak little call, the whisper of a child who feels like they're going to be sick. The lack-of-control feeling was very similar.
She felt it coming. She fought. It let her fight, but it won. It always won. Shay reached out, her eyes wide with horror...
And the Power stepped into her body.
The Body needs no tending.
The Power stepped forwards. It never ran. It never needed to. It got exactly where it needed to be, when it needed to be there. Its walk was a predatory stalk, completely upright, completely featureless. Its motions were as bland as Shay's face, its blank blue eyes never blinked and went on forever. It moved the body's mouth, but there was a feeling of formality to this, as the words seemed to echo from the listener's own head. The voice itself was neither male nor female. It was not a voice, and yet the voice of millions. As it moved, the Body grew taller. Shay's bones crackled in protest, but the Power had no concern for this. It lengthened the Body until it matched Kuar's height. It would be easier that way.
It a heartbeat, it was in front of Kuar. It slammed one hand into the demon's chest, and with strength partly of Shay's body and partly borrowed from some unearthly source, it flung him and the chair across the room. The chair met the wall and burst apart in a shrapnel of splinters.
The Power did not smile. It stood, watching.
Well met, Undoer.