Ah, the careful whisper in the dark: fighting to be heard and missed with equal force. What could be worse than being caught, except for being ignored? When the effort of these few chanced and clumsy words costs a person their life, when their frightened and pounding heartbeat sounds louder in their ears than their plea, when fear and doubt and uncertainty quiver in every hoarse syllable, and these words are spoken anyway? They are worth more than the proclamations of a thousand so-called Kings and Queens. They are worth more than a pile of riches so deep they could pay for a lifetime's worth of idle pleasures and never near the bottom. They are worth more than an army arriving at your back with the coming of the dawn. Such words deserve an answer. Such words can summon Marianne. 

Laughter cracks like a whip in the dark. Everywhere this little interloper steps, the ground cracks at her feet. Small splinters at first, that grow wider and wider as steps turn to stomps and even full on leaps away, until the hall is filled with an eerie green witch-light as the world inside the architecture bursts open for these chosen eyes to see. There's a yelp and a lash of chains, and with two yanks in two directions, Daisy sinks down to her thighs as Abijah rises from a particularly wide hole to dangle from the ceiling by her ankles. 

The proud Annunaki is wrapped provocatively in chains that seem placed to tease and tantalize as much as they're there to hold her in place. The ones wrapped into a thick ball around her wrists and hands make sense, as do the links squeezing her calves together, but does she need the ones snaking around her thighs or her stomach? What are the ones pressing up against the underside of her chest supposed to do other than, um... lift and separate? She's been stripped of her veil, too. Or rather it's been put to better use crammed inside of her lips, with a small length of silver bindings holding it in place and making sure she's little more than a silent witness to this meeting of the minds. 

All at once, the ground sews itself shut again. It's disturbingly solid and even more disturbingly still squeezing Daisy's legs like a vice. But just before she can scream for forgiveness or for help, a hand grabs her by the collar and roughly drags her up out of the ground to drop her on her butt on the hard, smooth, frigid stone of the arena catacombs. There is the sound of a deep breath, and a cloud of smoke wafts from somewhere in the darkness.

"Do you know? When summoning a demon, it is customary to make an offering. Shall I take your soul, little robin? I think I will, if I do not like the sweetness of your song."

Her burning eyes are the only source of light down here. Marianne's teeth glint with evil sharpness against that backdrop with her wide and daring grin. Her boots tap softly on the ground until she's standing just at Abijah's side. She traces her fingers along the Annunaki's spine with a playful sort of possessiveness, stoops to press her thumb against the underside of her jaw, and rises to fingers along the crisscrossed pathways of chains winding up and down her thighs. Marianne leers at her guest.

"You would like to taste the goods as well, yes? Come and speak with Marianne! What wish do you have that makes you so bold, hmm? What weight has dragged you down into my world, [i]hmmm?[/i]"