[There's blood at the corners of her mouth, now, where the gag is wrapped so tight that it's cut the edges of her lips; she's fighting and thrashing and her cries are turning to outright screams, and in that moment, a whole lot of things happen at once.
The necromancer opens his hand, closes it, and when he opens it again it's to a handful of what seem to be silver shards — mirror shards, at closer look. A flick of his wrist hurls them across the room, where they scatter on the floor and linger a moment before beginning to levitate, forming themselves up into —
In the same moment, two new black tentacles rise up and wrap around Sypha's struggling form, yanking her unceremoniously out of the grip of Alucard's claws (enough so that he may just feel them dig in, might just take the very top layer of her skin with them when they pull free) and tossing her toward the shards —
Darkness consumes the room like a flashbang in reverse; as glass clinks and whispers, there is a sound like a sudden breath of rushing air, and for an instant, a shape glows in the darkness — a half-skull with purple embers for eyes, lighting up and burning out in the span of a fraction of a second —
And when the dust clears, there are mirror shards scattered on the ground, and Sypha is gone, and in the necromancer's other hand sits a small weighted pouch not unlike a coin purse, which he tosses to Alucard almost nonchalantly.]
Just to settle up, m'lord. Pleasure doing business. That's about the going rate of a Speaker, isn't it? With a little extra for your trouble.
[It's a handful of coins, in the sack. Pocket change. Either a calling card, a last word, or just a touch of insult to injury.]
no subject
The necromancer opens his hand, closes it, and when he opens it again it's to a handful of what seem to be silver shards — mirror shards, at closer look. A flick of his wrist hurls them across the room, where they scatter on the floor and linger a moment before beginning to levitate, forming themselves up into —
In the same moment, two new black tentacles rise up and wrap around Sypha's struggling form, yanking her unceremoniously out of the grip of Alucard's claws (enough so that he may just feel them dig in, might just take the very top layer of her skin with them when they pull free) and tossing her toward the shards —
Darkness consumes the room like a flashbang in reverse; as glass clinks and whispers, there is a sound like a sudden breath of rushing air, and for an instant, a shape glows in the darkness — a half-skull with purple embers for eyes, lighting up and burning out in the span of a fraction of a second —
And when the dust clears, there are mirror shards scattered on the ground, and Sypha is gone, and in the necromancer's other hand sits a small weighted pouch not unlike a coin purse, which he tosses to Alucard almost nonchalantly.]
Just to settle up, m'lord. Pleasure doing business. That's about the going rate of a Speaker, isn't it? With a little extra for your trouble.
[It's a handful of coins, in the sack. Pocket change. Either a calling card, a last word, or just a touch of insult to injury.]