A melody of a time long forgotten played in the background of the council room, where one woman in a long, black evening gown sat. One leg was crossed over the other, and one goblet was clasped in her pale fingers, red nails glinting in the light.
Come and share
This painting with me.
All of the other bodies were slumped against the table, except one. That one looked terrified, a human to all eyes. The dead ones revealed the truth of its nature. All of the deceased, in their suits and dresses, had reverted to the form of a werewolf.
Unveiling of me
The magician that never failed
“Do you understand?” came the soft voice from painted red lips. Her green eyes were fixed steadily upon the panicking figure.
“How did you—how are you—we all drank from the same wine!”
This deep sigh coiled around my chest
Intoxicated by a major chord
“Yes, we did,” and she took another sip of the burgundy liquid to emphasize that fact, a long, slow sip. “The difference is that every other glass was laced with poison.” It was such an elementary trick, but so very effective.
The pupils of the wolf’s eyes narrowed. “Wh-what do you want?”
“You,” was the answer, “I’ve told you from the start,” her lips twisted into a smile, “I can enhance your claws so that you can cut through daleks, and I can provide you with armor and free shifting, if only you will convince the others to bend the knee and serve.”
I wonder
Do I love you,
Or the thought of you?
“You’ll kill me if I disagree?” There was a madness in the desperation. “Well go ahead! You already—”
“No, you misunderstand,” she shook her head and set the goblet down. Her arms crossed over the table. “You can do this of your own free will, or,” her hand moved to grasp at a pendant around her neck. It was taken from the arcteenian, another highly psionic race, “I will simply make you.” It was not, in fact, a power she had.
However, many believed it was true, “And what I make you say to your people will give them a much worse fate. Is that clear?”
It was very clear.
The werewolf representative, Abelard Truskin, was soon standing before cameras and announcing to the world, to his people, that the greatest threat was the threat of the daleks. Decked out with cybergear, he made a show of tearing through a captive dalek with his claws and demonstrated how the werewolf cycle could be controlled.
“It is Amara Calix that we must follow if we wish to master our own futures!”
Amara Calix had blatantly ripped off the slogan of the once-great Master, and she felt no shame whatsoever in that as the crowd roared to life in applause, and she did her best to look humbled.
Come and share
This painting with me.
All of the other bodies were slumped against the table, except one. That one looked terrified, a human to all eyes. The dead ones revealed the truth of its nature. All of the deceased, in their suits and dresses, had reverted to the form of a werewolf.
Unveiling of me
The magician that never failed
“Do you understand?” came the soft voice from painted red lips. Her green eyes were fixed steadily upon the panicking figure.
“How did you—how are you—we all drank from the same wine!”
This deep sigh coiled around my chest
Intoxicated by a major chord
“Yes, we did,” and she took another sip of the burgundy liquid to emphasize that fact, a long, slow sip. “The difference is that every other glass was laced with poison.” It was such an elementary trick, but so very effective.
The pupils of the wolf’s eyes narrowed. “Wh-what do you want?”
“You,” was the answer, “I’ve told you from the start,” her lips twisted into a smile, “I can enhance your claws so that you can cut through daleks, and I can provide you with armor and free shifting, if only you will convince the others to bend the knee and serve.”
I wonder
Do I love you,
Or the thought of you?
“You’ll kill me if I disagree?” There was a madness in the desperation. “Well go ahead! You already—”
“No, you misunderstand,” she shook her head and set the goblet down. Her arms crossed over the table. “You can do this of your own free will, or,” her hand moved to grasp at a pendant around her neck. It was taken from the arcteenian, another highly psionic race, “I will simply make you.” It was not, in fact, a power she had.
Slow, love, slow.
However, many believed it was true, “And what I make you say to your people will give them a much worse fate. Is that clear?”
It was very clear.
Only the weak are not lonely.
The werewolf representative, Abelard Truskin, was soon standing before cameras and announcing to the world, to his people, that the greatest threat was the threat of the daleks. Decked out with cybergear, he made a show of tearing through a captive dalek with his claws and demonstrated how the werewolf cycle could be controlled.
“It is Amara Calix that we must follow if we wish to master our own futures!”
Amara Calix had blatantly ripped off the slogan of the once-great Master, and she felt no shame whatsoever in that as the crowd roared to life in applause, and she did her best to look humbled.