The music's bite stung on the inside of her skull and spurred her on, into a run, a sprint, pounding terror a tempo to the melody in her head, long legs pulling metronomically, and long hair shone fair starlight there in the dark.
Always.
Sure arms caught her and sealed eyes forced her, and that smile bit at her, consumption on the outside, like meeting the disease and letting it charm it's way into your body. Then hear him laugh from inside your head and a sing-song of terminality to inform of who you belonged to now.
Searing hatred in her brain and unsung lust in her belly. A No Where situation all around. Hands were familiar between her legs and in her hair, and his tongue was the snake's fork, repulsion and a crooked finger that said "come here and play, little virgin" and a smile that spoke of fruit not meant to be tasted, but all the sweeter when taken from his tongue for it.
Does he kiss your throat or bite it out? Resist me, his smile dances, and let me show you who I am...
Sweat boiled from the former sleeper, now terror's mistress, and with a gasp, Filia awoke and the phantom sensation of talons riding her back into alert, cold sweat mimicking displaced blood with convincing conviction, companion and twin to the pulse charge between her legs that burned purple all over her pale body and sang happily behind her frightened eyes.