womanholy.

                         she appreciates having anakin within her employ. she hate’s any violent work, but he’s perfectly the man she needs in moments like this. upon anakin’s question, she smiles at him and nods along the corridor. she leads for him to follow. away from her guests and dancers and into one of the rooms she kept vacant for issues like this. “ you’ve been coming here for months now, sergei, you know i don’t do violence of any kind. especially when it involves harassing my ladies. so, that being said… you can pay the fee of $2,500 or this lovely man here is gonna help you think about it. ”

              THIS ROOM IS an altar, Sergei the sacrifice in question. Anakin has played the part of executioner for longer than he cares to remember. But never by her words. A goddess she may be, but Qedesh trades in something much thicker than blood. 

               He plays the part of the silent companion, a pillar of intimidation on which the ceiling seems to stand. The immovable metal of his right hand firmly locks the man on his knees before her. Exalting in stance, but spitting curses like venom. 

     ❝ I’m not paying no fuckin’ money to you cu— ❞ The hand on Sergei’s shoulder moves too fast to see. Red splatters the floor, marble drinking in violence like libations. This is hallowed ground, wet with neon && split under a stripper’s heel.