zombieless

“Don’t touch me,” is the first thing Nidhogg says to her after they pull him back from abyss-space. Then he rips off her outstretched arm in an effortless flurry of teeth, his face crumbling into eye-studded static. She screams, of course. Lafayette is not invincible in the least, for all her iron silence, the mangled bloat of corpses she’s left behind as a magician; she screams because it is red and twisting sinew past her elbow, rainfleck blood misting on the observation glass. And because she is Lafayette, the scream is strangled between clenched teeth, loyal kill radius unsheathing in an electric whine of light