Lust had stirred faintly when she felt Flynn approach her. For a moment their eyes met, and beneath the marble veneer she wore, there was perhaps a glint of appreciation, followed by the smallest nod of acknowledgment. Like the others, her attention finally moved to Parasraya, but her detachment to the situation couldn't have been more obvious.
That is, up until the moment that guise melted away to reveal the woman who was responsible for summoning her to this world...for putting them through months of hell that whittled away at their numbers after being abandoned...and possibly for killing off so many just when they thought they'd reached a sanctuary after enduring so much. Lust's eyes were wide and completely fixated on Kalki. She was frozen in place, unable to hear anyone else's pleas or threats, unable to even glance at Flynn who stood beside her.
Under other circumstances, perhaps, she might have been grateful to Kalki. She was the one who pulled Lust out of her world from the clutches of an unmourned death and placed her in a mortal, human existence. But her hatred ran deep, and her grudge was no easily forgotten. People she'd felt the stirrings of affection for, like Badou, had been ripped away from her. She'd been put through hell in her struggles to survive within a body to which she was not accustomed to having, denied her powers and fitted with abilities that were entirely foreign to her.
Kalki had tried to use them...kill them... Lust's glare darkened ominously as she lowered her head and narrowed her eyes.
Suddenly she was moving. The elevated heels of her black armored boots beat a rapid staccato as she dashed straight for Kalki. Lust's slitted eyes were burning with malice, her ebony sword yanked from its sheath. She didn't shout in rage, or even so much as snarl. Instead she arced through the heroes, disregarding their attempts to talk her down. It wouldn't work. And Lust knew...knew...the emptiness and eternal longing of an existence where she neither lived nor died. If this woman thought to rob her of this life she'd fought so hard to claim as her own...!
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That is, up until the moment that guise melted away to reveal the woman who was responsible for summoning her to this world...for putting them through months of hell that whittled away at their numbers after being abandoned...and possibly for killing off so many just when they thought they'd reached a sanctuary after enduring so much. Lust's eyes were wide and completely fixated on Kalki. She was frozen in place, unable to hear anyone else's pleas or threats, unable to even glance at Flynn who stood beside her.
Under other circumstances, perhaps, she might have been grateful to Kalki. She was the one who pulled Lust out of her world from the clutches of an unmourned death and placed her in a mortal, human existence. But her hatred ran deep, and her grudge was no easily forgotten. People she'd felt the stirrings of affection for, like Badou, had been ripped away from her. She'd been put through hell in her struggles to survive within a body to which she was not accustomed to having, denied her powers and fitted with abilities that were entirely foreign to her.
Kalki had tried to use them...kill them... Lust's glare darkened ominously as she lowered her head and narrowed her eyes.
Suddenly she was moving. The elevated heels of her black armored boots beat a rapid staccato as she dashed straight for Kalki. Lust's slitted eyes were burning with malice, her ebony sword yanked from its sheath. She didn't shout in rage, or even so much as snarl. Instead she arced through the heroes, disregarding their attempts to talk her down. It wouldn't work. And Lust knew...knew...the emptiness and eternal longing of an existence where she neither lived nor died. If this woman thought to rob her of this life she'd fought so hard to claim as her own...!