Snippet #2633507

Weyellin smiled as he looked down at Iaira, on the brink of collapse, her consciousness fading by the second. Darkness was closing in. If only he had more time to admire.
"That falls down to you, my girl." He whispered, his breath falling softly upon Blackmont's ear. "And I expect you're not one to give in, are you?"
"Pacifier. Skip to the final phase."
With these words, the Pacifier hurriedly slid through the gap left in the side door he entered through. Soon, he returned with two black masks and a small phial filled with a viscous crimson liquid. He handed a mask and the phial to Weyellin, who toyed with it in his hand.
"How fragile, the mind. Will plays no part in the matter, and neither does strength. So terribly exploitable..." Weyellin slid the mask over his head and made sure the filtration padding covered all of his air passages. This mask would obfuscate the gas for him, nullifying it of negative aspects.
"Pacifier, don your mas-" As Weyellin turned, he saw the mask already obscuring the Pacifier's face and wide grin, but not his overwhelming excitement.
"Nevermind, then." He said with a sigh. With his free hand, he traced his fingers along Blackmont's chin, and lifted her head to look at him. He smashed the phial against the chair that was visable between Blackmont's legs, releasing the gases that would allow mind-altering toxin to rage through her bloodstream.
"Rougabin A-alkaderi. It'll m-make you lose your mind!" The Pacifier giggled.
"Go ahead. Hold your breath." Weyellin said, his hand running down the inside of Iaira's leg to find her burnt wound, digging his finer into it.