I still think I’m hilarious for giving her a name that essentially has Mina in it. Yay Dracula! Its interesting how in so many people's minds Thomas Harris’ work is automatically put in that Dry But-With-Compelling-Characters Thriller category, when really he’s actually got some powerful poetic big brain on him. All that to say: good quote choices!
I had to pull up a photo of Hadassa while rereading her description. Partially because she’s ridic hot, but also because you absolutely nailed it? That vibe she has in Tyrant, which is what most caught my eye when I was looking for possible Hadassas (that looks weird. Hadassas.) is so perfectly captured in your first paragraph. Luxuriant but bleached and venomous. Like she’d kiss you and she’d taste like dark chocolate and then she’d fucking eat you alive. And you’d be fine with it. ...Or maybe that’s just me, because I get all fatalistic and swoony over badass supernatural women.
“His youngest brother, Laith, is a meager 80 years dead.” Ha, vampires are so condescending! “Oh, ignore him! He’s only a hundred, practically an infant! Hahaha!” Gideon you sleep on the floor of a basement. By choice. ...Not that I’m defending Laith. Gosh, why do I feel like I’m defending Laith?! Anyway! This is a fantastic exercise, by the way. Take someone attractive and describe them in the least attractive way possible. I may do this with random models. If I can avoid the guilt. “There are too many features fighting for attention on his face.” Random sidenote: I was once on medication that made me feel this way every time I looked at my face in the mirror. It was bizarre. Like, every feature was suddenly Very There and Very Distinct. It took a long time to stop being so aware of my nose after I got off of the med. I keep meaning to use my odd med reactions for some druggie character but haven’t gotten around to it. ...Moving on…
“He’s nearly as tall as Gideon but slim with little air of command because of his habit of hunching his shoulders and chewing on the side of his thumb, a mortal quirk he has yet to shake.” How awkward would it be to still have shit posture as a terrifying creature of the night? Must self esteem issues follow us even past death?!
“the stink of his lingering humanity an assault to Gideon’s senses.” No lie, the first time I read this my instant comment was “Bitch, buy an air freshener!” Like, I was so offended? As a human? And on future!Mena’s behalf? Her humanity is a whole bouquet!
“the older she becomes the more like a god she must feel and thus the more deserving of worship.” Ooooh baby I dig it.
“Gideon does not see his three remaining siblings, so he knows his summons is a low priority.” The whole gangs not here?! Obviously he’s not getting an award for Best Son. Bummer babe. I had my fingers crossed and everything.
““You have decided then?” Hadassa asks by way of greeting, her depthless eyes finding Gideon’s in the mirror’s reflection.” I pictured them reflecting like a cat, or a… some other animal I can’t think of but whose eyes I can picture perfectly? That kind of odd, curved hollowness to them.
““It’s dangerous to be alone in a city,” Laith reminds him in an annoyingly sing-songish way. He has a voice like rusty nails. “Perhaps for you,” Gideon retorts. His younger brother’s mouth curls into his trademark sneer. He looks as though Gideon’s a fool, and he’s happy for it.” Freaking siblings, honestly. I love how Vida completely ignores them.
““I would be released from you.” Vida’s eyes shoot up from her nails. Laith sits forward, his face falling with a strange mix of shock and delight.” OH SHIT OH SHIT I know nothing about vampire politics and allegiances but even I know you done fucked up Gideon OH SHIT OH SHIT
“Touching her is touching icy polished gold, a richness that he’s rarely enjoyed.” That’s so good! It also brings to mind a question: what kind of relationship does Hadassa have with her “children” and what kind did she have before she turned them? I imagine they weren’t all the same, but like, okay why am I tiptoeing around this… did she fuck them?
“I will not have you forget in three meager centuries how much you yearned.” Why was this creepy and hot all at once? Oh I know, because it's ~VAMPIRES~
“When she releases him, her hands dropping from him at the same moment she gathers her influence back into herself as spiders gather their silk, Gideon is angry. Vida’s warning gaze stills him, but his fangs press sharply against his tongue.” Alright alright, so Vida is obviously a bit of the peacekeeper. And Gideon is a bit (“a bit”) of a hypocrite for being all huffy for his sire getting all mind-invading and then doing the same shit later to Philomena. Cool cool cool.
“you may still take Linemell … if only so the family can see if you will keep it.” Dun dun duuuun! I love how you just so easily set up them returning and how much pressure that would secretly put on Gideon. A pressure he would probably try to shrug off because he seems the shrugging type, but still. He bit a nun! A nun!
I love love love how bored Gideon is. He pretends it’s freedom, but really babe that’s boredom. I actually started writing a scene about this in my piece. I completely forgot how Gideon’s original interest in Francesca was started mostly by boredom, as well as bad timing.
You fleshed out Francesca sooooo well!! I gave you scraps and you built a feast! ...That feels insensitive considering what Gideon makes of her.
“There had been something inside of her, some spark of jealousy and insecurity attached to a bright thought, an image of red hair, hair like cherries and fire and blood.” I’m grinning so hard at the three things you chose to compare Mena’s hair to. Blood, obviously. Fire, Hell. Cherries… virginity/sex. Or sweetness. I don’t know what Gideon liked to eat back when he ate. If he had a sweet tooth. Also cherries are one of the darker red fruits. When their juices drip they can be used as (very runny) blood in a pinch in photography. Not my preferred substitute, but I did use it at least once. Something about the flesh of cherries tends to be seen as more decadent than other red fruits as well. People more commonly buy raspberries than cherries. Cherries are Special Occasion. Seasonal. I’m analyzing this a lot, but it fits so well! Cherry! Even the old war slang. New recruits were sometimes called Cherries. And that that’s Gideon’s first real hint of Philomena (aside from glazing over her bland appearance around the abbey/cathedral) is just… -chefs kiss-
“He thinks of murder, of rampage, of what her blood would taste like in comparison” Oh dude! Duuuude! What WILL Mena’s blood taste like?!!?! It’s gonna be so good!
“appreciating both her mild discomfort and her unwavering stare. She does not yield. More interestingly, she does not desire. When she closes the door between them, he lays one of his cold hands against the firm oak, feeling the remnants of her body heat, then presses his cheek against it. When he breathes in deeply, he can smell the way her innocence trails behind her.” Gideon is being creepy and Philomena is in there not giving it a second thought. He’s simply some man doing some things with Sister Francesca and it’s none of her business and so she’s done thinking about it. She’s in there preparing for bed and he’s smelling things. Where’s my spray bottle of holy water?
“she plucks the ripe fruit from the rich soil.” Damn it I slipped another omen of her future in there and didn’t even notice. Craaaap.
“She does not waver. She keeps her eyes on his, alert, unabashed, dignified. For every hole he pierces through the fabric of her faith, she stitches it back together, sometimes with a gentle laugh at his cynicism and, at other times, with a thoughtful and amused smile. Her lack of judgement at his pessimism―no, his nihilism―baffles Gideon.” A++ characterization! The implied confusion we’re weaving throughout this story from Gideon is funny as heck. “She doesn’t yell at me, she doesn’t want to fuck, I don’t understand this relationship!”
“Philomena, he knows, thinks theirs is a budding friendship. It is not merely, she thinks, one of the devout preaching to the damned (she would not view herself with such pride, such esteem, just as she would not view him as irredeemable in the eyes of the Lord), but it is not romantic. “You would not even recognize the stirrings of romance though, would you?” he asks one night as she finishes sweeping Ravenstone’s front steps.” ...I just accidentally did this in my piece. Kinda. Oops. Is Gideon leaning against the outside of the cathedral? Or is he splayed out on the part of the steps she’s swept already? I can’t decide which visual I like more. Or or is he following behind her like a little duckling?
“He comes to her in the night with blood on his face, soaking his shirt, covering his hands. He comes to her like a fiend.” You mofo I will punch you. (You being Gideon, not you you.)
““You’re hurt. Who did this to you?” She is pale with fear, and when he steps into the light, her burnished eyes become as large as a rabbit’s. It makes Gideon all the more hungry.” Oh my sweet daisy upon a hilltop, you naive little thing, you should have stayed in the convent with the abusive Mother Superior.
“the blood of some urchin still fresh on his breath and starting to stain.” Niiiiice!
“she wants to shield him from himself” ;____________;
““This is not you,” she protests, on the verge of tears. “This is some—some dark force— some—some—t-temptation sent to—you’re hurting me, stop, please, you’re hurting me.”” This is also fantastic characterization. The fact that she tries to reason with him, and only AFTER that admits he’s hurting her. Only then makes note of herself and her pain.
“Her hood has fallen back, and Gideon reaches up, undoing the scarf hiding her hair with quick assaulting fingers until he can fist the burning length between his knuckles.” Her hair is such ~A Thing~ and I love it. Love It.
“She seems to be struck silent, but when he turns his face into the length of her neck, her hair brushing across his cheek and jaw, she gasps.” Remember what I said about being really preoccupied with the thought of how he’s going to touch her shoulders during the biting? This right here too. Just… ! You call it “virgin skin” a few sentences down and yep, basically. I briefly, chaotically, mention the biting in my piece and the touching is a big part of it. Because I imagine when you’ve guarded your body, almost the entirety of your very skin, your whole life… someone grabbing it can feel as assaulting as him turning her.
“that she cries out and bends to the pain, dropping to her knees in front of him” I wonder if that did anything for him. I’m assuming so, since this whole thing does, but especially her on her knees in front of him. In pain. On her knees. For him.
“He sneers, annoyed by the interruption, and drops Mena’s arm. She cradles it to her chest instantly as though it’s a wounded lamb.” Baby ;_____;
“Her wrist is bruised, as dark as sin,” and then you know she puts on one of her long sleeved dresses, with the sleeves that go so far that they cover half the backs of her hands, and hides it away like a sin too. But she’d feel like she was hiding Gideon’s sin and not her own.
“A large crow is scratching and clacking, shuffling back and forth, its black beak rattling against the glass. She thinks the cold must have made it seek refuge, and she’s about to open the window before she sees the dead rat by its bloody talons.” Awww, she was gonna let Basque in from the cold! She was gonna have a crow buddy! He could have brought her random shiny things and she’d keep him well fed. Instead he brings her disemboweled rodents. This is going to put a serious dent in their future relationship.
““No,” Philomena says with little hesitation. “I will keep the room, thank you, Father. It is mine, after all, and the morning light comes in so beautifully.”” You go Mena, standing your ground. Probably doesn’t help that she’s had only a handful of possessions to call her own her entire life, so having A Room is a big deal.
“For a week, it seems as though the situation truly was nothing more than an anomaly, but then garden cats begin to pile up, one by one, by the tomato plants. They’re split from chin to tail, and all of their eyes are missing.” Nooo not the tomato plants! I realize plucking out eyes is an easy thing (...that was a weirdass sentence) but it also feels like a very pointed message. Especially with the tomato plant placement. Since the entire conversation that happened around the tomatoes was about him seeing her and her seeing him. And the illusions people tend to put in front of others instead of really LOOKING at them.
And then the fucker invades the sanctity of the confessional. Rude, Gideon, rude! “Save us both this tiresome struggle.” You’ve got a boner and you know it.
“He has his eyes trained on the backs of the two nuns twenty feet ahead of him, their arms linked in solidarity, one singular basket between them to hold the few purchases they’ve made: a bundle of rosemary, a braided roll of pastry still warm and full of cinnamon and cream, and a moth-gray headscarf. The shorter of the two leans into the other’s shoulder. It’s a gentle and affectionate nudge and Philomena’s body relaxes for a moment.” This is a fantastic scene all together, really it is, but I wanted to point to this specifically. This united front of two women who originally started off rocky. The implication that Francesca either bought or talked Mena into buying that headscarf, because we all know she probably wouldn’t have on her own. The looming threat in the background. This whole festival is easy to picture. It fills up the mental film reel very easily, which is super impressive. It also makes what follows feel very… immediate. No filter. Visceral. I enjoyed it? The question mark is because saying I enjoyed someone’s horrific murder seems gauche but, you know what I mean.
“As terrible as a beast from a fairytale, he drags the nun into the alley, her feet kicking and scraping against the ground. She manages one scared shout, the shape and sound of Philomena’s name, before he shatters her skull with three violent stomps.” The fact that she cries out Mena’s name.. that her last word is Philomena.. ouch for my baby.
“The second and third blow are not for the need of certainty but because he can, because he’s burying his foot into everything she has ever been—the child whose name was Anna, the Sister whose favorite hymn was Be Not Afraid, and the woman who had so unluckily let him into her veins.” Fuuuuuck that’s gooooood! …..I need a piece of shit character. It’s decided. I need in on this vicious action.
“When the slaughter is complete, the former nun is nothing more than a wet obscenity.” A WET OBSCENITY! A WET OBSCENITY! YOU COME INTO MY HOUSE, VIA MY WIFI AND JUST TOSS OUT AN AMAZING COMBO PUNCH LIKE THAT?! Screw you woman.
He winks at her. Her winks at her! You cheeky fucker.
“She is as bleached as bone; the purple splotches beneath her eyes make her look like a corpse. For a moment, he thinks she might scream, but then he sees her eyes roll up into her head and she crumbles like a paper doll. When she awakes to Father James holding her hand in Ravenstone’s infirmary, he will say what the doctors told him: a fainting spell brought on from shock.” ...How’d she get back to Ravenstone? Did Gideon take her back?! That would be so messed up, and thus so on brand, for him. Here, let me murder your friend and traumatize you, then carry you back to safety, then clean up the mess so that people think you’re nutso if you say anything! Have fun! Kisses!
1/2
Its interesting how in so many people's minds Thomas Harris’ work is automatically put in that Dry But-With-Compelling-Characters Thriller category, when really he’s actually got some powerful poetic big brain on him.
All that to say: good quote choices!
I had to pull up a photo of Hadassa while rereading her description. Partially because she’s ridic hot, but also because you absolutely nailed it? That vibe she has in Tyrant, which is what most caught my eye when I was looking for possible Hadassas (that looks weird. Hadassas.) is so perfectly captured in your first paragraph. Luxuriant but bleached and venomous.
Like she’d kiss you and she’d taste like dark chocolate and then she’d fucking eat you alive. And you’d be fine with it. ...Or maybe that’s just me, because I get all fatalistic and swoony over badass supernatural women.
“His youngest brother, Laith, is a meager 80 years dead.” Ha, vampires are so condescending! “Oh, ignore him! He’s only a hundred, practically an infant! Hahaha!” Gideon you sleep on the floor of a basement. By choice.
...Not that I’m defending Laith. Gosh, why do I feel like I’m defending Laith?!
Anyway! This is a fantastic exercise, by the way. Take someone attractive and describe them in the least attractive way possible. I may do this with random models. If I can avoid the guilt.
“There are too many features fighting for attention on his face.” Random sidenote: I was once on medication that made me feel this way every time I looked at my face in the mirror. It was bizarre. Like, every feature was suddenly Very There and Very Distinct. It took a long time to stop being so aware of my nose after I got off of the med. I keep meaning to use my odd med reactions for some druggie character but haven’t gotten around to it.
...Moving on…
“He’s nearly as tall as Gideon but slim with little air of command because of his habit of hunching his shoulders and chewing on the side of his thumb, a mortal quirk he has yet to shake.” How awkward would it be to still have shit posture as a terrifying creature of the night? Must self esteem issues follow us even past death?!
“the stink of his lingering humanity an assault to Gideon’s senses.” No lie, the first time I read this my instant comment was “Bitch, buy an air freshener!” Like, I was so offended? As a human? And on future!Mena’s behalf? Her humanity is a whole bouquet!
“the older she becomes the more like a god she must feel and thus the more deserving of worship.” Ooooh baby I dig it.
“Gideon does not see his three remaining siblings, so he knows his summons is a low priority.” The whole gangs not here?! Obviously he’s not getting an award for Best Son. Bummer babe. I had my fingers crossed and everything.
““You have decided then?” Hadassa asks by way of greeting, her depthless eyes finding Gideon’s in the mirror’s reflection.” I pictured them reflecting like a cat, or a… some other animal I can’t think of but whose eyes I can picture perfectly? That kind of odd, curved hollowness to them.
““It’s dangerous to be alone in a city,” Laith reminds him in an annoyingly sing-songish way. He has a voice like rusty nails.
“Perhaps for you,” Gideon retorts. His younger brother’s mouth curls into his trademark sneer. He looks as though Gideon’s a fool, and he’s happy for it.” Freaking siblings, honestly.
I love how Vida completely ignores them.
““I would be released from you.”
Vida’s eyes shoot up from her nails. Laith sits forward, his face falling with a strange mix of shock and delight.” OH SHIT OH SHIT I know nothing about vampire politics and allegiances but even I know you done fucked up Gideon OH SHIT OH SHIT
“Touching her is touching icy polished gold, a richness that he’s rarely enjoyed.” That’s so good! It also brings to mind a question: what kind of relationship does Hadassa have with her “children” and what kind did she have before she turned them? I imagine they weren’t all the same, but like, okay why am I tiptoeing around this… did she fuck them?
“I will not have you forget in three meager centuries how much you yearned.” Why was this creepy and hot all at once? Oh I know, because it's ~VAMPIRES~
“When she releases him, her hands dropping from him at the same moment she gathers her influence back into herself as spiders gather their silk, Gideon is angry. Vida’s warning gaze stills him, but his fangs press sharply against his tongue.” Alright alright, so Vida is obviously a bit of the peacekeeper. And Gideon is a bit (“a bit”) of a hypocrite for being all huffy for his sire getting all mind-invading and then doing the same shit later to Philomena. Cool cool cool.
“you may still take Linemell … if only so the family can see if you will keep it.” Dun dun duuuun! I love how you just so easily set up them returning and how much pressure that would secretly put on Gideon. A pressure he would probably try to shrug off because he seems the shrugging type, but still.
He bit a nun! A nun!
I love love love how bored Gideon is. He pretends it’s freedom, but really babe that’s boredom. I actually started writing a scene about this in my piece. I completely forgot how Gideon’s original interest in Francesca was started mostly by boredom, as well as bad timing.
You fleshed out Francesca sooooo well!! I gave you scraps and you built a feast! ...That feels insensitive considering what Gideon makes of her.
“There had been something inside of her, some spark of jealousy and insecurity attached to a bright thought, an image of red hair, hair like cherries and fire and blood.” I’m grinning so hard at the three things you chose to compare Mena’s hair to. Blood, obviously. Fire, Hell. Cherries… virginity/sex. Or sweetness. I don’t know what Gideon liked to eat back when he ate. If he had a sweet tooth. Also cherries are one of the darker red fruits. When their juices drip they can be used as (very runny) blood in a pinch in photography. Not my preferred substitute, but I did use it at least once.
Something about the flesh of cherries tends to be seen as more decadent than other red fruits as well. People more commonly buy raspberries than cherries. Cherries are Special Occasion. Seasonal.
I’m analyzing this a lot, but it fits so well! Cherry! Even the old war slang. New recruits were sometimes called Cherries.
And that that’s Gideon’s first real hint of Philomena (aside from glazing over her bland appearance around the abbey/cathedral) is just… -chefs kiss-
“He thinks of murder, of rampage, of what her blood would taste like in comparison” Oh dude! Duuuude! What WILL Mena’s blood taste like?!!?! It’s gonna be so good!
“appreciating both her mild discomfort and her unwavering stare. She does not yield. More interestingly, she does not desire.
When she closes the door between them, he lays one of his cold hands against the firm oak, feeling the remnants of her body heat, then presses his cheek against it. When he breathes in deeply, he can smell the way her innocence trails behind her.” Gideon is being creepy and Philomena is in there not giving it a second thought. He’s simply some man doing some things with Sister Francesca and it’s none of her business and so she’s done thinking about it. She’s in there preparing for bed and he’s smelling things. Where’s my spray bottle of holy water?
“she plucks the ripe fruit from the rich soil.” Damn it I slipped another omen of her future in there and didn’t even notice. Craaaap.
“She does not waver. She keeps her eyes on his, alert, unabashed, dignified. For every hole he pierces through the fabric of her faith, she stitches it back together, sometimes with a gentle laugh at his cynicism and, at other times, with a thoughtful and amused smile. Her lack of judgement at his pessimism―no, his nihilism―baffles Gideon.” A++ characterization!
The implied confusion we’re weaving throughout this story from Gideon is funny as heck. “She doesn’t yell at me, she doesn’t want to fuck, I don’t understand this relationship!”
“Philomena, he knows, thinks theirs is a budding friendship. It is not merely, she thinks, one of the devout preaching to the damned (she would not view herself with such pride, such esteem, just as she would not view him as irredeemable in the eyes of the Lord), but it is not romantic.
“You would not even recognize the stirrings of romance though, would you?” he asks one night as she finishes sweeping Ravenstone’s front steps.” ...I just accidentally did this in my piece. Kinda. Oops.
Is Gideon leaning against the outside of the cathedral? Or is he splayed out on the part of the steps she’s swept already? I can’t decide which visual I like more. Or or is he following behind her like a little duckling?
“He comes to her in the night with blood on his face, soaking his shirt, covering his hands. He comes to her like a fiend.” You mofo I will punch you. (You being Gideon, not you you.)
““You’re hurt. Who did this to you?” She is pale with fear, and when he steps into the light, her burnished eyes become as large as a rabbit’s. It makes Gideon all the more hungry.” Oh my sweet daisy upon a hilltop, you naive little thing, you should have stayed in the convent with the abusive Mother Superior.
“the blood of some urchin still fresh on his breath and starting to stain.” Niiiiice!
“she wants to shield him from himself” ;____________;
““This is not you,” she protests, on the verge of tears. “This is some—some dark force— some—some—t-temptation sent to—you’re hurting me, stop, please, you’re hurting me.”” This is also fantastic characterization. The fact that she tries to reason with him, and only AFTER that admits he’s hurting her. Only then makes note of herself and her pain.
“Her hood has fallen back, and Gideon reaches up, undoing the scarf hiding her hair with quick assaulting fingers until he can fist the burning length between his knuckles.” Her hair is such ~A Thing~ and I love it. Love It.
“She seems to be struck silent, but when he turns his face into the length of her neck, her hair brushing across his cheek and jaw, she gasps.” Remember what I said about being really preoccupied with the thought of how he’s going to touch her shoulders during the biting? This right here too. Just… ! You call it “virgin skin” a few sentences down and yep, basically. I briefly, chaotically, mention the biting in my piece and the touching is a big part of it. Because I imagine when you’ve guarded your body, almost the entirety of your very skin, your whole life… someone grabbing it can feel as assaulting as him turning her.
“that she cries out and bends to the pain, dropping to her knees in front of him” I wonder if that did anything for him. I’m assuming so, since this whole thing does, but especially her on her knees in front of him. In pain. On her knees. For him.
“He sneers, annoyed by the interruption, and drops Mena’s arm. She cradles it to her chest instantly as though it’s a wounded lamb.” Baby ;_____;
“Her wrist is bruised, as dark as sin,” and then you know she puts on one of her long sleeved dresses, with the sleeves that go so far that they cover half the backs of her hands, and hides it away like a sin too. But she’d feel like she was hiding Gideon’s sin and not her own.
“A large crow is scratching and clacking, shuffling back and forth, its black beak rattling against the glass. She thinks the cold must have made it seek refuge, and she’s about to open the window before she sees the dead rat by its bloody talons.” Awww, she was gonna let Basque in from the cold! She was gonna have a crow buddy! He could have brought her random shiny things and she’d keep him well fed. Instead he brings her disemboweled rodents. This is going to put a serious dent in their future relationship.
““No,” Philomena says with little hesitation. “I will keep the room, thank you, Father. It is mine, after all, and the morning light comes in so beautifully.”” You go Mena, standing your ground. Probably doesn’t help that she’s had only a handful of possessions to call her own her entire life, so having A Room is a big deal.
“For a week, it seems as though the situation truly was nothing more than an anomaly, but then garden cats begin to pile up, one by one, by the tomato plants. They’re split from chin to tail, and all of their eyes are missing.” Nooo not the tomato plants! I realize plucking out eyes is an easy thing (...that was a weirdass sentence) but it also feels like a very pointed message. Especially with the tomato plant placement. Since the entire conversation that happened around the tomatoes was about him seeing her and her seeing him. And the illusions people tend to put in front of others instead of really LOOKING at them.
And then the fucker invades the sanctity of the confessional. Rude, Gideon, rude!
“Save us both this tiresome struggle.” You’ve got a boner and you know it.
“He has his eyes trained on the backs of the two nuns twenty feet ahead of him, their arms linked in solidarity, one singular basket between them to hold the few purchases they’ve made: a bundle of rosemary, a braided roll of pastry still warm and full of cinnamon and cream, and a moth-gray headscarf. The shorter of the two leans into the other’s shoulder. It’s a gentle and affectionate nudge and Philomena’s body relaxes for a moment.” This is a fantastic scene all together, really it is, but I wanted to point to this specifically. This united front of two women who originally started off rocky. The implication that Francesca either bought or talked Mena into buying that headscarf, because we all know she probably wouldn’t have on her own. The looming threat in the background.
This whole festival is easy to picture. It fills up the mental film reel very easily, which is super impressive.
It also makes what follows feel very… immediate. No filter. Visceral. I enjoyed it? The question mark is because saying I enjoyed someone’s horrific murder seems gauche but, you know what I mean.
“As terrible as a beast from a fairytale, he drags the nun into the alley, her feet kicking and scraping against the ground. She manages one scared shout, the shape and sound of Philomena’s name, before he shatters her skull with three violent stomps.” The fact that she cries out Mena’s name.. that her last word is Philomena.. ouch for my baby.
“The second and third blow are not for the need of certainty but because he can, because he’s burying his foot into everything she has ever been—the child whose name was Anna, the Sister whose favorite hymn was Be Not Afraid, and the woman who had so unluckily let him into her veins.” Fuuuuuck that’s gooooood! …..I need a piece of shit character. It’s decided. I need in on this vicious action.
“When the slaughter is complete, the former nun is nothing more than a wet obscenity.” A WET OBSCENITY! A WET OBSCENITY! YOU COME INTO MY HOUSE, VIA MY WIFI AND JUST TOSS OUT AN AMAZING COMBO PUNCH LIKE THAT?! Screw you woman.
He winks at her. Her winks at her! You cheeky fucker.
“She is as bleached as bone; the purple splotches beneath her eyes make her look like a corpse. For a moment, he thinks she might scream, but then he sees her eyes roll up into her head and she crumbles like a paper doll.
When she awakes to Father James holding her hand in Ravenstone’s infirmary, he will say what the doctors told him: a fainting spell brought on from shock.” ...How’d she get back to Ravenstone? Did Gideon take her back?! That would be so messed up, and thus so on brand, for him. Here, let me murder your friend and traumatize you, then carry you back to safety, then clean up the mess so that people think you’re nutso if you say anything! Have fun! Kisses!