PRCPHESISE :
❝ I’M GOOD, THANKS, ❞ she replies, almost sarcastically. the demon talks a big game, and it’s working. her pride is getting the best of her. hiding her clutched fist, she faces his bright visage directly with a sweet smile. ❝ the whole slaying gig does have its perks. most seventeen year-old’s hardly know what to do during an earthquake drill, let alone anapocalypse. and you’re right – it probably would make a good TV show, all the carnage i’ve caused. ❞
in a strange attempt, she reaches into the dreamscape herself. an uncomfortable, wispy tingling surrounds her arm until she pulls out a sports bottle – the very one she had been imagining – and gulps down some of the most refreshing water she’s ever tasted. ❝ this place isn’t so bad. i can see why it’s your go-to hangout. ❞ she tosses the bottle behind her and it poofs out of existence.
❝ now, what kinda mayhem are we talking here ? anything i can wrap my small mind around ? ❞
BILL CIPHER does not emote as humans do, but often employs clever mimicry of emotions for their benefit. Angular and without flesh, so very limited in recognizable facial features, he opts for widening his hideous, single eye in lieu of raising a human brow. ❝ I see you’re a smart learner -- a real STAR STUDENT, ❞ he praises, tone ripe with sarcasm. She may have an inkling that the mindscape has bestowed her with powers of conjuration, but she is no master of the metaphysical like he is.
HE DOWNS both of his eldritch margaritas -- ooh, that tingle is spicy -- by pouring them directly over his eye. The fluid dribbles over his visible cornea and the vitreous body seems to swell. ❝ REFRESHING ! ❞ he exclaims, and he closes his eyelid, reopening to reveal a gaping maw lined with wet, jagged teeth.
HE EATS the glass. Waste not, want not.
❝ MAYHEM IS a general term; general and generous, ❞ he continues, reaching an inky black finger under his eyelid to pry out a shard of glass as one might clean their teeth with a toothpick. He flicks it at her. ❝ Mayhem is what I call a Black Friday H&M sale that actually opens at midnight on Thursday -- they will be OUT OF YOUR SIZE before you even get to the racks. No, ❞ he continues, drifting aimlessly in the eternal void of the ethereal, ❝ I’m thinking of something more like ... the actual end of all carbon-based life on this planet, wherefore the ELDER GODS from MOUNT NGRANEK will descend to HOWL AND SCREAM AT THE ETERNALLY BLOODY MOON. Panera Bread will be catering, and there will be an open bar. ❞