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~ The girl is naked and still, half submerged in mud. Her pale limbs all askew, flesh split roughly over her breasts and stomach – the wounds are haphazard and uneven, clearly scratched open with very human fingers over a long period of time. The corpse, still thinking, still feeling, is very much blind, her eyeballs acting as pin cushions for a variety of thorns scavenged off the marshy plant-life.
Bathory is perched above the unfortunate girl on a mossy stump. The hive in her chest buzzes as she carefully pulls bee after bee from her mouth; each is impaled with a thorn before it can escape. She pins them through her hair, creating a vibrant and elaborate headpiece of dying, wiggling insects. ~
Bathory is perched above the unfortunate girl on a mossy stump. The hive in her chest buzzes as she carefully pulls bee after bee from her mouth; each is impaled with a thorn before it can escape. She pins them through her hair, creating a vibrant and elaborate headpiece of dying, wiggling insects. ~