( those many tendrils bound by arrows and spears thrash restlessly, the delectable sweetness of a wretched soul just out of reach... )
No answer would be worth devouring, at least you know this much.
...Though, so long as you seek it, I will observe you, creature.
( the sound of metal bending, an ugly screech. his gauntlet barely holds under his own strength gripping his lance tightly. )
Tch. A folly to let you live and yet you have not conceptualized an answer of your own.
A sinner yet, a sinner not.
Do not call me "sir undead", girl.
๐๐๐๐ผ๐๐ผ๐๐ผ .แ
Whether I have underestimated you or you, I, hardly matters.
Your origin, that which cannot be named, will not save you from my execution, wretched thing.