Viscaria screamed, her hair a mess of white curls around her face (more so than normal, that is). Her eyes blazed with anger, causing the man in front of her to cower. He was pathetic, a runt of a man in personality, and she wished she had someone more worthy to break.
He would have to do, as her resources were a little limited at the moment.
This was one of the rare moments when Viscaria found herself involved in the mutilation. Normally she sat back, smile on her face, as she broke the victim’s mind. Today, however, she needed to take out her aggression in a different way.
The dagger in her hand sliced across the man’s face, cutting down to his cheekbone. He shrieked, but it wasn’t enough to satisfy the witch.
No, she wasn’t even satisfied when he was a bloody mess on the floor, barely recognizable with his skin nearly in shreds and his intestines strewn about. She continued to breath heavily in fury and turned to Hemel, blood dripping from her hair and face. Her dress, of course, was long ruined.
“Get me another one, someone more… entertaining.”
He nodded and, for once, seemed to be filled with something akin to glee. “Yes, milady.”