[ Beyond the grisliness of her demand is an element of the absurd. They are not so far removed from civilisation that dispatching wildlife is essential to her survival. After all, he could supplement her quite real appetite for flesh with a sandwich from a rest stop. Her sense of immediacy on the matter leaves open two distinct explanations: the girl is experimenting with her authority over her accomplice; or that her impulse control is truly that of a feral child in fancy dress so that the notion of "later" is secondary to "now"; and yet because she is capable of forging plans, as exemplified by their accord, there is perhaps a tension between her rational and irrational selves with one intermittently prevailing over the other. This would account for the difficulty of discerning her seriousness at any given time: her mind is in flux.
She watches the bird without blinking. Will it detonate with a word from the spectre? Will he pierce it with a phantom spear from afar? The spectacle of his powers has captured her imagination and he is complicit in cementing an expectation of theatrics by flooding the stage of their meeting with smoke.
Her undivided attention is rewarded with a glimpse of his momentary disappearance, swift as the flash of a camera, immortalising the bird in death. Millie turns her head towards his re-materialised self, looks to his face, the bird and back. ]
Look.
[ She lifts a hand, slight and quivering with black glee. ]
I'm trembling. Trembling at the horror we'll unleash.
[ The same hand snatches the bird and Millie sinks her uneven teeth into the carcass feathers and all. The black plumes burst about them from the force of her bite as she devours the animal with both hands like a savage, ripping and tearing until it is little more than a crimson stamp on her uniform and chin.
She spits out a snapped femur then posts up mysteriously before Mordrake. The child lifts her chin and closes her eyes, awaiting something implicit in his role as her manservant? Enabler? Father figure? What she awaits is for him to clean her up. ]
no subject
She watches the bird without blinking. Will it detonate with a word from the spectre? Will he pierce it with a phantom spear from afar? The spectacle of his powers has captured her imagination and he is complicit in cementing an expectation of theatrics by flooding the stage of their meeting with smoke.
Her undivided attention is rewarded with a glimpse of his momentary disappearance, swift as the flash of a camera, immortalising the bird in death. Millie turns her head towards his re-materialised self, looks to his face, the bird and back. ]
Look.
[ She lifts a hand, slight and quivering with black glee. ]
I'm trembling. Trembling at the horror we'll unleash.
[ The same hand snatches the bird and Millie sinks her uneven teeth into the carcass feathers and all. The black plumes burst about them from the force of her bite as she devours the animal with both hands like a savage, ripping and tearing until it is little more than a crimson stamp on her uniform and chin.
She spits out a snapped femur then posts up mysteriously before Mordrake. The child lifts her chin and closes her eyes, awaiting something implicit in his role as her manservant? Enabler? Father figure? What she awaits is for him to clean her up. ]