An eerie silence falls around the pair as the mans words fade into the atmosphere, the wind whistling through the otherwise tainted silence. The pause is brief, but enough to instil discomfort into any not at one with darkness, at one, like the girl had learned to be through the past few years of her life. What breaks the silence are two words, spoken in the tone o one lost from light, hidden from happiness. Regardless of the natural softness and innocence in her voice, this could not be mistaken for anything but evil.
"My pleasure."
She closes her eyes, spreads her fingers, and holds her arms wide, silhouetting her body against the moonlight, the picture of an angel is painted of the ground... An angel of death. Dropping to her knees, the torment begins. The pictures flash through her head once more, but this time their is no sound, no growl and no screams. She doesn't fight the pain this time, she embraces it, allowing every morsel of her body to be overcome by her emotions. The black of her eyelids splashes red as the image of her parents stains the forefront of her imagination, then it changes, the blood moves and forms a shape. A shape that has haunted her through her entire life, yet the shape that she was calling upon with every ounce of her strength. Mordu's head, formed of blood and black in the eyes stares back at her as her body begins to shiver. The shivers turn to shakes, and the shakes turn violent. Like a victim, possessed by a spirit, going through an intense seizure, but conscious, aware of everything, every shot of pain, every rush of blood as it speeds ruthlessly, threatening to burst through the veins that contain it at any moment. Her pulse quickens, and her skin crawls, but her face smiles.
When it's over, she rises slowly to her feet and for the first time, removes her hood. Her knuckles crack as she begins to move her fingers, and at the close of it all, she is ready.
"Shall we begin?"