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Tags
Summary
Alastor tugs at one of Vox’s wires. "Would you let me rip them out of you?”
Vox swallows thickly. She imagines it: Alastor’s elegant hands, her sharp red claws, reaching deep inside of her and ripping something out. Slicing through Vox’s innards like ribbons. Holding the machinery that replaces her heart with dark, oil-slick fingers. “Hnghh…”
There’s a smile in Alastor’s voice. “Oh, my. You really are pathetic.”
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Tired of dissecting the same old organs on her radio broadcast, Alastor decides that getting her hands on Vox's wires would be prime entertainment!
And Vox - well, it'll be a cold day in Hell before she denies Allie anything.
Series
- Part 4 of voxfawn's yuriostatic week fills