Prick Your Finger On The Spindle

Rœkia stepped back, letting herself melt into the shadows til she was only eyes and teeth as Wolf cawed eerily.  Poor thing, it was easy to tell she was hallucinating.  Ah, the effects of poisons on the mind were every bit as intriguing as what was happening to her body.  They were connected of course, mind and body.  They were never separate.  What scarred the body would also scar the mind and vice versa and it wasn't just the girl who was hearing voices.  Somewhere in the pit of her stomach she could here that soft, whimpering voice telling her that this was wrong.  That she she knew this suffering far to well to be inflicting it on another.  She needed to stop!  She knew the herbs that could lessen this woman's suffering, to alleviate the poisons affects.  It wasn't too l-  It was too late.  With a snarl Rœkia grit her teeth together, snuffing the voice from her mind.  That was a voice of weakness.  Why shouldn't she enjoy the power she had over this weak, naive woman?  No one ever gave her another chance.  No one ever stopped for her.  It was only fair…. it was only fair.

Rœkia lunged forward at Finch, attempting to approach the woman's left side, jaws seeking to lash out and rip open the girls left shoulder at the tip of the blade.  Not to get a grip, no, just to rip flesh, to spill blood, to silence that cursed voice once and for all.  See how dark my heart has stained?  There would be no more begging from her lips, only those unfortunate enough to catch her gaze when it glinted with cruelty.

"Speech"