Chapter 65: Bloodhound’s Funeral
Black Bloods splurted from the runed soils, splatters of greives, whispers, regrets and hatred tainted muds and coiled the ungrown flowers, snuffing out any future just as theirs were denied a fitting end. Adil narrowed her silvery eyes, trembling with a hint of shock, as her roots coiling before lunging to silence the chant she was all too familiar with.
"I shed the mantles of mercy and honor."
The pooled bloods surged, tainting before drowning the the roots, the malice too heavy as the barks slumped down, Manasseh’s eye tranquiled as she stretched her hands, the leylined blues coursing and slivering from her cheeks, down to her neck, then coil around her arms like chains.
"I cast away paths for decays and haunts."
The blackness answered, as it toiled and impaled into Manasseh’s palm. No pain, no comfort either, just quiet murmurs of crumbling wills and tragedies, veined blues within giggling as they annilated blackness and formed anew, her skins finally tinted black blues, as cloaks of liquided dreads draped over her arms and shoulders. No forms from the cloaks, just shadows of what had been a glory and dominance.
"So may this houndmaster laugh: A Bloodhound’s Funeral."
Shadowed hoods stretched from the cloak as it covered her peaceful expression, her thoughts ever a sea of bubbling steams the vampire willed to drown herself in, as blackened pools once again surged to answer her dying will, liquided bones clattering from the ground as they crickled, trickled, dangled, before reforming, as three hounds of black blood answered to the final duty of the last vampire noble.
The Druid’s silvery eyes shuttered, a twisted visage of her old friend’s magic bent for her greatest enemy’s vengeance, the draped hoods and grunting hounds of blackened her perception of death, a grim reaper for the one who disrespected souls.
...but not now. One day, she will pay her dues, but not now...