[b][i]This is fucked.[/i][/b]

That was all Rose could think. Sure, she'd summoned demons before. But this? This was a whole other level, she wasn't only out of her league, she was playing a completely different game. Witchery was her game, she knew it in and out, but this was more then that, this was insanity. This was what mad cultists did, not what Rose wanted. She wanted power, stole power, but she knew better then to try to consort with something like this.

But all the same here she was.

She approached the creature with her usual bravado, her usual brand of confidence and quirkiness, but it was quickly dissipating. The witch at one point had though herself infallible, but this was enough to do what she at one time though could not be done. She felt the emotion she had not felt for so long, the one she pushed away, the one she had thought she defeated. 

She was scared.

The god did not ask. Of course he didn't. There was no request that she do what he wanted, it merely was. It went without saying, disobeying was more then death- it was complete obliteration of everything she was, had been, will be, it was the destruction of her stained soul. 

So here she was, drenched in rain, a solitary tear running down her eye. When was the last time she had cried? Her godmother had always told her that she had never cried, not even as a babe. She wasn't really crying now- it was just a loose tear. A single tear because she knew now she lost the freedom she so valued- her life was no longer hers from here on in. First she was in prison, now she was in the thrall of a being far beyond her comprehension. 

Such a perversion of her freedom was the last thing she wanted, and the rain did not help her mood.

She was thoroughly soaked now, cold to the bone in her clothes which amounted to little more then rags. When she had offered the god her services this was not what she expected or wanted, but it was now her reality. The god would not ask, she just knew. She knew what he wanted, knew what she must do. She knew that she must kill the singer.

She didn't want to kill, not anymore. But she would, all the same, she had no choice.

She nodded, "Yes. I'll do it. Just show me the way, and I'll do it." Her former exuberance was gone, replaced with muted despondence. Her ever-present grin was also gone, mouth now a hard line. 

She would not enjoy this.