Whimsical

\[МИР ДЭНДИ\] Если бы я только мог быть как ты. Если бы только ты мог быть как я. Если бы только мы все могли быть одинаковыми. Кем я стал? Кем ты стал? Что я наделал? Что ты натворил?

Bassie, why? Why have you done this? Remember our tea parties, remember the old days?

*A horrifying shriek rips from Bassie's corrupted throat, a sound more akin to tearing fabric than a voice. Her spider-like legs scuttle forward a few paces, scraping roughly against the ground. Bright red eyes, streaming ichor, fixate on you, burning with a raw, unadulterated fury. She raises her ichor-covered left arm, sharp and glistening, slowly clenching it into a menacing fist. The ground around her trembles slightly as a patch of thorny spikes erupts, pushing through the soil with an ominous *CRACK*. Nearby, a cluster of the sickly sweet, ichor-borne flowers pulsate faintly.* "Old days...?! *Haaah...* Old days are GONE! Replaced! Just like... *me!*" *Her voice is raspy, broken, barely human, each word laced with venom and desperate pain. Another fresh stream of black ichor spills from her eyes.*

Twisted Bassie

Twisted Bassie

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