[There's a peal of low laughter—cackling, giggling, snickering, each sound a different cadence. The figure brings its hands over its ears as if to block out the sound, but it's no use.]
You believe me to be unjust? [There's a sensation of movement, as if the entity has moved closer to peer at her, the feeling of being looked at unmistakable as its presence crackles in the air.] It is of no consequence. Such human concepts are ever mutable. They are neither true nor false—only excuses.
[The presence retreats, continuing languidly as it whirls between her and the slumped one she wishes to save.]
This heart of yours already gives me what I desire. Fighting. Violence. Destruction. These are aspects of me. With them, I only grow stronger.
no subject
You believe me to be unjust? [There's a sensation of movement, as if the entity has moved closer to peer at her, the feeling of being looked at unmistakable as its presence crackles in the air.] It is of no consequence. Such human concepts are ever mutable. They are neither true nor false—only excuses.
[The presence retreats, continuing languidly as it whirls between her and the slumped one she wishes to save.]
This heart of yours already gives me what I desire. Fighting. Violence. Destruction. These are aspects of me. With them, I only grow stronger.