[u]Pray.[/u]

Zucroas sutured tight the gaping wound of causality, weaving Creation itself upon the needlepoint of his tooth and claw. There was little mercy in the act, save for the swiftness of his execution of that loose woman. But, there was something.. strange. Not just in the ease of which he managed to intercede into her being and that of countless others, but in the fact that the connection was already preexisting? Come to think of it, from the moment she entered the frozen forum, the gaze of her reflections seemed to focus on him. It was a ubiquitous kind of attention, the kind of uncanny ease with which an old painting's eyes seem to follow you everywhere. They each adopted her saunter and sway, almost with intent. But that would be silly, right? They're her reflections. They didn't have to try. It is just what they do.

Unfortunately, the Draconite spat in the face of the wench's mercy. Her lovely smile was soon bathed in the radiance of countless volts of electricity and x-rays, flashing the squirming sight of her skeleton in a black-bodied silhouette that danse macabre'd in the wicked frenzy of her "pain". She fell to the floor in a heap, crackling with astral thunder that arced throughout the environment in branches of electric fury. Perhaps the most interesting aspects of the exchange were two things, however, were two-fold. Well, technically three. Firstly, her hand was fully outstretched whilst she collapsed into a smoking wreck upon the floor— her hand curled into what Zucroas perceived to be faux acceptance. Secondly, though her images were all molested with the unbridled fury of the serpents ripping into their throats, they were all.. bloodless. The electricity that the astral predators emitted [s]did[/s] conduct into them too, but the charge was consumed by the yawning vortex of something lurking within the now-real reflections, something which mirrored her too-long shadow. Their smiles widened. 

Thirdly? From the drooling chasm of her throat spews viscera. Frothing, bubbling scarlet, like sea foam. And much like the sea, there was quite the volume of it too. An unreasonably large amount for someone of her small stature. It seethed in its sluggish trek, spilling out and tainting her smooth, delicate skin with that sticky red. The tide advanced, racing to engulf his shins in her gore. In the same fashion that her doppelgangers seemed to have happen to them, Zucroas' breath rolled over the woman, but passed through the boundary of something unseen. That roiling abyss which persisted in spite of the light of his cataclysm. A brief whine— a shriek— called out from the other side into the material as his lightning seemed to twist as though it got passed through an event horizon, before being yanked down into the endless gullet of her shadow, which blossomed with a bouquet of countless bloodshot eyes. 

Wait. There was yet one reflection accounted for. The reflection of her in his eyes, though a reflection it did not remain for long, likely to his chagrin. It blossomed into psy-flame from within the corridors of his gaze. This was no scalpel, nor was it a hammer to batter down the battlements of his mind. It was a jackhammer. Left unattended, from the moment it proliferated itself into being, it sought to consume his skull, though this.. thing.. bore no heat, no severity of the elements. No, it brought a far more destructive gift. Ego death. Its caress made to boil away his psyche, all the way down to his instincts, leaving the creature a hollow, empty existence. A perfect thing to be remade as she saw fit.