"My kingdom was lost," she spits, "in the passage of time. Vermin are resilient. You would know; you sheathed yourself in one of their skins."
She is hesitant to attack.
She is not hesitant to attack.
Illyria does not become hesitant. Such things are for humans, and she remains unaffected by the shell she is in. Unhampered. Unweakened. In every respect.
Even emotionally.
She is considering her attack.
She is considering the strength and magnitude of such a strike, and how she will implement it. She is measuring the pressure of vermin skin on vermin skin, and the impact of knuckle-flesh-blood, and blaze of discordant energies as they meet in glorious collision. She is anticipating the violence.
Illyria enjoys violence.
Enjoyment is human. She does not mind admitting it in this case. Not in the case of violence.
no subject
She is hesitant to attack.
She is not hesitant to attack.
Illyria does not become hesitant. Such things are for humans, and she remains unaffected by the shell she is in. Unhampered. Unweakened. In every respect.
Even emotionally.
She is considering her attack.
She is considering the strength and magnitude of such a strike, and how she will implement it. She is measuring the pressure of vermin skin on vermin skin, and the impact of knuckle-flesh-blood, and blaze of discordant energies as they meet in glorious collision. She is anticipating the violence.
Illyria enjoys violence.
Enjoyment is human. She does not mind admitting it in this case. Not in the case of violence.