Marianne is burning. Her eyes flash like three tiny stars and the chains about her waist and shoulders rattle excitedly in response to the visions filling her mind.

Oho? Oho? What is this, what is this? She's never seen anything so beautiful! Oho! Could this be love? Is she meant to be intimidated? She is not! She is filled to bursting with the heat of revolution, which feels just the same as blood lust, which feels just the same as romance. Behind her, her shadow rises to meet the challenge of this newcomer, heedless of its obviously superior potency. She spreads so wide and tall that she engulfs the entirety of the great sealed door and then some, twisting and mutating until her shadow bares no resemblance to the girl still folded against the door at all.

The front of her is tiger, matted and wet with shapes like spines jutting about here and there. Her great paws end in claws so massive and sharp that Jerry at least would swear they actually crack the ground. Around her body are great shadowy chains, and at the end of every set of links, the metal gives way to scales, and a great serpent's head flicks its huge forked tongue and wriggles about impatiently. The back of her is a formless, nameless [i]something[/i], perhaps it is recorded within the library, and perhaps it is not. Its name is Fear and its name is Vengeance and its name is Marianne. Is it a tail, or great stomping legs with crushing cloven hooves? Is it the great talons of some huge bird of prey? Is it writhing tentacles that curl and crush and maim? The light flickers, and the canopy of shadows fills in what the imagination of its audience cares to see. When she is stronger, she will impose the shape properly. For now, the eyes must wander up up up and up, where her head floats misshapen and disturbing, and when she smiles it splits the shadow head in half and it is a monster, she is a monster, there is no human with a shadow like this and...

She is alone. This strange mating dance is now here only for Set. Marianne huffs and diminishes back into herself. She stomps the remains of her cigarette with unnecessary force and twists her heavy heel against it until it can never be lit again.

"Don't be stupid," she hisses, and this is definitely what her pouting looks like. She was just given a treat and now it's been taken away, and all the emotions she doesn't know what to do with are spilling out into the chamber, "Jerry is much too useless to open the door by herself, no matter how long we give her to finish groveling! She needs, oh! Poor thing! She needs [i]help![/i] From an Inquisitor of Ereshkigal! And tonight that is you, yes yes! Congratulations on your promotion!"

She steps away from the door and takes several dramatic paces forwards, clapping and then spreading her hands wide.

"Jerry, you may begin! Do not dawdle, do not doubt me, and do not fail."