Rhoda conjured another daemon like a juggler practicing his knives. Her coalesce became a dancer in flame. The unused vapor swirled for a moment like a silk scarf then tore away in gust. Her black and gray-lavendar hair threatened the same.
The edge of the Viyi alter was too high to sit on comfortably, but she did so anyway. Her unsheathed dagger completed the sacrilige.
“You look like Viy’s Cunt sitting there, girl. Get up,” Wendel said.
Rhoda raised her chin and tightened her grip on the dagger but nothing else.
The Black Kite on Wendel’s shoulder spread it’s wings and arrowed it’s beak at Rhoda.
117 words on day 583