audio, start of september

[bonobos]

[ feed starts.

there is a pronounced silence. then-- ]

I got a thing for that stupid clown.

[ ??? ]

I'm only doing this 'cause he said something about how he's my dirty secret or whatever a few weeks ago and I'm pretty sure he's upset about it so yeah. There it is. Don't say I never did anything for you. Asshole.

[ message over, that is... somehow all he wanted to say. wow. ]

Comments

[cursegod]

Why don't you ask him how we came to terms?

[If she wasn't pissed off, she would be impressed by Sha-Ming's attitude for being direct. While he does have a point about the Council, he obviously continues to underestimate her.]

You think I don't have measures to make things last? How do you think I captured Gogol and made him submit?

Don't ever call me babe again or I will have Gogol amputate your legs. You can live without those at least. For someone who can dole out suffering and death, he would also be the perfect person to keep you alive.

[Since they're talking business--] You want to put up a strong front, but my curse will be inevitable. You can try hiding behind the Council, but I really don't give a damn as long as I get my revenge. If you feel that pain doesn't matter, then how about I order Gogol to never interact with you again?

[There's practically a twisted grin in her voice.]

And before you can argue that I can't control that-- I do and I can. Because I OWN his soul, so don't ever fucking think I can't make him dance like the little pathetic puppet he is.

[She's obviously willing to turn this into a hostage situation.]

...What are you willing to sacrifice for pissing me off, Sha-Ming?

[bonobos]

[ there’s a silence that passes over him at what she says. partially out of fear, partially because his brain is putting up its defenses. he doesn’t bother groveling or making himself look pathetic — he finds that there’s no use in it, even if he’s a man with little pride.

as for the idea of making gogol never talk to him again—… well. ]

You can do that. [ he acquiesces simply. ] Life goes on.

[ shockingly, he means it— this is all a temporary arrangement anyways. better to not get attached. ]

I’m not sacrificing anything.

That all you had to say to me?

[cursegod]

[There's an eerie silence on her end for what feels like forever. Then barely audible, despondent... somehow perfectly encompassing the god's aggrieved state of mind.]

Don't talk to me.

Don't look at me.

Don't touch me.

Suffer.

[With that, she is hanging up and blocking him! An hour after this, Sha-Ming will know when the curse hits. All eyes are on him, scrutinizing him even when alone, and the sensation of hands come shortly after. They grab at him, yanking on his legs and arms to the point where it feels like they're trying to drag him down and pull him apart. The night also brings with it an uncontrollable fever and the hell of hallucinating having his organs ripped out one by one. A very big "fuck you" to the clown fucker.]