Air Out Of Your Lungs [OPEN]

[Võ Kiều Ry]

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[attr="class","burnt"]"Her hand swept up and down the roof's hatch, poking and prying quietly in the dead of night. Deeming it immovable without special force, Võ Kiều Ry cracked her knuckles and while doing so looked at the marks on her left hand. Five scorch marks, each in the shape of a bar, lay there in plain view. The outline of a six sat below them, unfilled. The witch could fulfill it, starting with opening this uncooperative hatch. Unable to find where it locked or latched in, Võ Kiều Ry took a step back and stood up. She craned forward a small amount at the waist, hovering her head directly over the hatch while the rest of her was clear of it. Her unmarked hand grasped at her lower jaw. Upon contact, her chin began to smoulder and crack. The witch jerked her head softly to the side and wrenched her lower jaw off. Glowing cracks beneath the surface of her skin remained intact in her detached lower jaw as she held it. The visible teeth boasted an obsidian hue and shine. Võ Kiều Ry faced the hatch head on, now. Molten lava, radiant against the darkness but unlikely to be noticed from below, cascaded from her opened throat. Globs of the burning liquid sank onto the metal frame of the hatch, searing right through it. At her own pace, she moved her head about, dripping the magma evenly. Just as the last corner of the frame was about to melt, Võ snatched the superheated hatch door with her marked hand, preventing it from clattering to the tile floor below. Once she'd set it down on the roof tiles, she returned her lower jaw back to where it belonged, holding it in place with her hands until the heat from prolonged contact fused it right back. The witch stretched her mouth a tad, even clacking her teeth quietly to check restored range of motion. Her teeth had been the standard pearly white at one point. "Võ Kiều Ry stomped out the lava that had dripped onto the tile. She made her way to the sleeping quarters of the house and nudged the door open so she could slip through it. They snored. The witch considered what effect it would have if she were to wake them up first. The outcome was to remain unchanged. The halfling was an informant, a traitor. She'd known for a while but had been preoccupied until now. She wasn't sure they'd even ever met her. But the witch hadn't become who she was by letting opportunities pass her. Her marked hand crept over the halfling's sleeping face, index finger and thumb over the nose while the rest barricaded the mouth. The veins running from her arm into her hand began to glow with heat and her palm started to smoulder. Her victim woke with a start, confusion and pain welling up in their grey eyes. Then, fear. Muffled pleas became screams as they began to feel their face melting away beneath her grasp. This was better, more effective, thought the witch. She opened gaps between her fingers to let them some air. They should not have accepted so readily what she had offered, however. Their panicked panting became their undoing as any air they took in, needing to pass by the witch's superheated hand, started to scorch their airway inside out irreparably . They faded in an agonizing instant. 'You should, if you have your wits about you, wish in your next life that you should not receive a choice. It's the choice that ensures your loss.' she said dispassionately. Discontent to leave the corpse identifiable, her hand, still over their face, melted into magma and dropped through their head, ultimately landing on the flagstone floor. It began to eat at that too, until she stamped it out and reformed her hand. The sixth mark reappeared, now filled. Satisfied, she wiped the marks off. "She had leapt back up to the roof, fusing the hatch back into place with some molten saliva, donated without needing to remove her lower jaw. Putting up a hood, she descended to the street level and turned to address the person whom she had suspected to be spectating without her permission but perhaps someone else's. Heat glowed in cracks and lines beneath her skin as she spoke, 'What did you expect? The lunatics play when the sky drips with eventide.' Võ Kiều Ry quoted a line of vampiric poetry after her question, turning her gaze towards the prominent full moon above.

[attr="class","icf"]Horror and moral terror are your friends. If they are not, then they are enemies to be feared.

[attr="class","deso"]OPEN

LAIKA OF GS

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