"At least. Do not sulk, Ahrim. I would rather you fed as well, but I value my existence more."
Again, the pair fumed, and again they acquiesced, shooting glances and thoughts at one another past their master. He would let them figure out who drew the short straw for themselves; both were coming along just as well, both were stronger and faster than he, and the bonds of familial love were twisted but still present. When Brodus, or one of the other living, tried to kill him again, they would not find him so unprepared.
His coat of scales, now unsecured, was lifted out of the way, and he rested his athame on the altar. Peeling back the bandages wrapping his every inch, he gently took the Dean's engorged heart and pushed it through into the freezing, pitch blackness. Swaddled in the entropic void of his soul-stuff, he could hear the beating, the whispers, but it would be a cold day in the demon halls before anyone else knew he had it.
The Twins suited him back up, working in concert, while his surviving zombies trooped out of the Cathedral. When he followed, not far behind, he was throwing on his back cloak again, his staff having indeed been cut in half and so left behind, amidst the corpse-dust and ruins and the priest's entrails.
"I see your sense of humour is appreciated by more than I, Brodus," he interrupted as he drew closer, flanked by the pair of slavering hunters, before turning his blank mask to regard Soahc. "But to speak of intelligence, yours would be better reflected if you waited until
after
I had raised your army to send soul-drinking assassins after me." He waved a bloody hand back at the Cathedral. "The harvest was acceptable, but the Knight of Souls here reaped them in turn on his way to me. You do not have quite as many more meat shields as I had expected."
All seeing. All knowing. All scumbag.
09-Jul-2015 17:35:12