Prick Your Finger On The Spindle

Blood stained her tongue and helped to sooth the gnawing in her gut. Rœkia let the red liquid drip from the corners of her maw as she eyed the panicking woman before her. "I wonder if you're the type to believe in things like justice and that everything happens for a reason? I wonder what reason there is in this? In your suffering…." The mania ebbed away leaving her still and contemplative for a moment as she stared at Finch. Slowly again a smile crept to her jaws. "Sweet dreams, Finchy." Rœkia turned and slipped through the shadows to leave the girl to her fate. It was time for a nice, relaxing island vacation.

As Rœkia stepped out of the crypt she was greeted by moonlight and a voice like gossamer fog whispering into her ears. Once again she would snarl and silence the voice. She would not feel guilty. She wouldn't feel anything at all.

-exit-

"Speech"