#Hes deadly but hes so frail from his rot that if u breathe on him too hard he falls over and dies

[doostyaudi]

Twisted berry boy redesign

[whiitedragon]

I need blood in the cut --;

She was getting sick of this.   She could handle being experimented on, being tortured by the insignificant pests that called themselves scientists -- when really, all they wanted to do was cause pain and suffering -- but this...being used for their entertainment, sacrificed again and again to a man of whom they had made a beast... There came a point at which she would no longer swallow her pride.  A point at which there was no reason behind charade, no reason to endure, no reason to willingly submit herself to such inane sufferings. The guards came to retrieve her, and she stood fluidly, soundlessly, and followed without a word.  They were nervous, she had made them nervous.  Even as blind as humans had become to the world beyond their knowledge, there was still some primal part of them that could recognize that she was something to be feared.  Good. She didn't look like much of a threat -- a broken, frail thing, covered in mottled bruises, and half-healed wounds, but the way she carried herself belied no pain.  It was an almost regal air, despite her small stature, and disheveled state.   When they arrived at the cell of the monster that had once been a man, she entered without prompting.  He was there, unstable and smoking, his body hardly in a solid state, false flesh looking black and putrid, giving him the appearance of something more dead than alive.  The exterior door of the airlock was opened, and once more, she stepped forward with no need for prompting.  She caught sight of the guards exchanging a nervous glance as the door was closed in her wake, a soft hissing signifying that the airlock was in place once more.   The gears controlling the interior door began to click. She smiled. The door opened. In the next instant, three things happened;  a pulse of raw energy emanated from the cage, knocking out any surveillance of the area; the guards dropped like marionettes with their strings cut, effected by the same force;  Reaper lunged. In the aftermath, she was the only one left standing. The abomination of nanites and rotting flesh was frozen -- pinned to the wall by a single hand, fingers tipped in claws that bit effortlessly into the thick glass where even Reaper's had failed.  His mouth agape, jaw seeming nearly unhinged, much like a snake preparing to devour its prey, tendrils of dark miasmamatic smoke poured from the gaping maw, extended from what passed for skin, reaching, grasping, trying to find purchase against skin newly flecked with white scales.  As they reached, they were burned away, her touch fire incarnate. "If you thought me an easy meal, you were mistaken," she hissed, fangs glinting white, visible in a flash through parted lips.  "There's some part of you that can still understand me," she murmured, brushing the knuckles of her free hand almost tenderly down his cheek, invisible flames driving away the smoke until skin was visible, smooth and whole.  She could reach out, she mused, slip the tendrils of her magic into his mind, unfelt, unknown, wrap them around his mind, just like his own dark tendrils ensnared his prey.  She could force his consciousness forward, make him hear her… But perhaps this was better. She would become a ghost to him, haunting him, always skirting around the edges of memory, perpetually just out of reach.  He would know to fear her, but never quite be able to recall why.  It was cruel, and there was a beauty to the insidiousness of it. “If you do not already wish for death, I will GUARANTEE it.”  Flesh knit together beneath her touch, becoming whole at her will, only be pierced and torn by deadly claws.  The same touch that healed would also destroy.  She would restore him, make him whole once more...only to see him torn apart by her own hand.  There was no satisfaction to be gained from sinking her claws into something already so broken.  There was no pleasure to be found in killing something already on the brink of death.  

She would make him S U F F E R .

She met his gaze head on, her eyes molten gold, roiling as she quietly seethed.   From that one single point of contact, she allowed energy to flow, leaving her and entering him, restoring, rejuvenating.  In waves, the smoke dispersed, her magic soothing the nanites from their agitated state.  Flesh, ashen and raw, but whole and untouched took the place of its predecessor.  No longer was his form in constant tumult, tearing itself apart only to reform in the same instant, replaced by stability, the chaos salvaged, pacified.  She wondered what it must feel like...to be grounded to flesh once more after the anguish of his new existence.  She could not so much as abide the concept. Withdrawing her claws, breaking her hold, she looked down at her arm, the blood a gradient from black to shocking crimson against her pale skin, a visual timeline of her healing in effect.  To bleed red once more...the monster had been made man -- if only in appearance. She barked a laugh, tossing him aside as a child does with a toy that has lost its favor.  She was done here. The air around her rippled and sighed as Gwyn pulled her magic tight to herself once more, drawing it in, sealing it away.  Her eyes faded from liquid gold to pale ice, and she became insignificant once more.  As far as anyone need be aware, at least.  Taking in a deep breath, she exhaled slowly, sinking fluidly to her knees, and her eyes fell closed, giving her the illusion of being at peace.  A faint smile curled up at the edges of her lips --- before she vanished from view.  The guards would find her, when they woke, back in her own gilded cage.   They would also find her no longer so easy to cow.