Sleep has been hard to come by for days and days now, but Sabrina wakes up on Sunday with something burning in her veins.
It's Him.
She's not called or compelled; she thinks she understands that they are too far down this path for it. The being that would be her father and her king unfurls himself darkly against the morning light, and she can taste blood.
The group is small, and she thinks it's for the best.
He has every reason to underestimate them, and when they reach the club, she's grateful for the writhing mess of magic and Darkness that reaches for her, blood and terror and rage that covers her own machinations.
She can't cover them, but she can draw his fury, and when Sabrina strides forward, the door banging open, she knows she commands the room like a queen.
"My Lord," she spits in the kind of sneer only a teenage girl can manage. "Are we done playing games?"
no subject
It's Him.
She's not called or compelled; she thinks she understands that they are too far down this path for it. The being that would be her father and her king unfurls himself darkly against the morning light, and she can taste blood.
The group is small, and she thinks it's for the best.
He has every reason to underestimate them, and when they reach the club, she's grateful for the writhing mess of magic and Darkness that reaches for her, blood and terror and rage that covers her own machinations.
She can't cover them, but she can draw his fury, and when Sabrina strides forward, the door banging open, she knows she commands the room like a queen.
"My Lord," she spits in the kind of sneer only a teenage girl can manage. "Are we done playing games?"