( kromer grins, ever delighted to get under someone's skin—even if she'd like it more if it were the girl's roommate instead of her—and sips her tea slowly.
it doesn't taste any different than it smells, and just to spit in don's wish for her to choke--kromer tips her head back slowly as she drinks the whole thing steadily. she starts to set it down, smile perfect
until it turns strained, and her grip loosens on the handle. the tea cup falls, hits the table and rolls off--it's quickly broken underfoot as kromer starts to laugh and stumble back from the table. it starts normal at first and starts to rise in pitch until it's indiscernible from short screams that come with her every breath. the fingers on each of her hands begin to melt together, the sleeves of her shirt bulging until they split and wings spring from them, the flesh stretched thin enough for her veins to be seen.
they slam against the table, steadying her as her body lengthens--it segments out, four legs to a segment as her breathing gets rougher, her screams more like gasps of air, and at the front a familiar giant maw pulls apart from her lower half. she draws herself up, no taller than she'd originally been but so much more imposing, and stares at don quixote.
her eyes are wide and bloodshot, her mouth open in abject surprise and pain--it hadn't felt like this before, it had felt so much more rapturous... yet this pain too is holy, pure, the rawest proof that she is alive and whole and human. kromer laughs again, pained but happy, and she leers at don quixote. )
...Gaze upon the purity of human flesh, ( she says, voice hoarse, ) the wholeness of human desire! This time-- I'll consume you-- Sinclair, Sinclair, Sinclair! Together at last, as we were meant to be--
( a case of mistaken identity, but it doesn't matter: kromer's lower maw presses against the table, acid beginning to eat through it and the ground below, hissing and popping as she moves to either crush the table underneath her or break it in half, to get to her desired prey. )
no subject
it doesn't taste any different than it smells, and just to spit in don's wish for her to choke--kromer tips her head back slowly as she drinks the whole thing steadily. she starts to set it down, smile perfect
until it turns strained, and her grip loosens on the handle. the tea cup falls, hits the table and rolls off--it's quickly broken underfoot as kromer starts to laugh and stumble back from the table. it starts normal at first and starts to rise in pitch until it's indiscernible from short screams that come with her every breath. the fingers on each of her hands begin to melt together, the sleeves of her shirt bulging until they split and wings spring from them, the flesh stretched thin enough for her veins to be seen.
they slam against the table, steadying her as her body lengthens--it segments out, four legs to a segment as her breathing gets rougher, her screams more like gasps of air, and at the front a familiar giant maw pulls apart from her lower half. she draws herself up, no taller than she'd originally been but so much more imposing, and stares at don quixote.
her eyes are wide and bloodshot, her mouth open in abject surprise and pain--it hadn't felt like this before, it had felt so much more rapturous... yet this pain too is holy, pure, the rawest proof that she is alive and whole and human. kromer laughs again, pained but happy, and she leers at don quixote. )
...Gaze upon the purity of human flesh, ( she says, voice hoarse, ) the wholeness of human desire! This time-- I'll consume you-- Sinclair, Sinclair, Sinclair! Together at last, as we were meant to be--
( a case of mistaken identity, but it doesn't matter: kromer's lower maw presses against the table, acid beginning to eat through it and the ground below, hissing and popping as she moves to either crush the table underneath her or break it in half, to get to her desired prey. )