[ good girl, makima says and sharon's expression twists in confusion, reeling back as the older woman brings her hands up as if she were a photographer. she didn't understand what was happening or why. it made her uncomfortable. it didn't make sense.
this wasn't the makima she knew (of course it wasn't, dumbass, she's corrupted).
when the dark blood begins to drip from her pores, the wild, fruity odor overwhelms the scent of heat, ash, and burning. reality trips on itself and, almost instinctively, like a cornered dog lashing out in fear, she tries to throw makima backward telekinetically, as far from her as she can. desperate to disrupt her.]
no subject
this wasn't the makima she knew (of course it wasn't, dumbass, she's corrupted).
when the dark blood begins to drip from her pores, the wild, fruity odor overwhelms the scent of heat, ash, and burning. reality trips on itself and, almost instinctively, like a cornered dog lashing out in fear, she tries to throw makima backward telekinetically, as far from her as she can. desperate to disrupt her.]