Pain, Agony, those words were but shadows of what it was that Siya felt as the font that was the blood of Fenris flooded her mouth. She would have screamed if her mouth hadn’t been so busy gulping down the ichor that held the power of the ages. As it was she simply clung to him and took in all she could and prayed she would walk away from this. 

It was more than just a physical act of drinking, this consumption. It was so much more and she felt the intensity of it all but ripping away her remaining humanity. Her last thoughts had been, you are what you eat and there was some small truth to this. As she took in the blood of the god, she became more god-like and he became less. She could feel it, somehow, through the maelstrom of agony she felt at their joining. She witnessed the weakening of this unstoppable foe and that more than anything made her knuckle down and endure. 

Great big gulps she took and felt her very essence expanding. She felt the darkness inside her that was the piece of eight swelling, growing and moving closer to the surface. Just as her eyes flooded with darkness, the blue chased away by the hunger inside her, her body now was consumed by the darkness of her blood, swollen past containment by the gift of Fenris it covered her from head to toe. She didn’t not grow physically, Whereas before she had been a pale blood-stained blot of white against the giant wolf, she was now a shadow so dark it seemed to suck in all the ambient light from the stars and the moon. But never the crackling red light of the god, it never touched that.

That was in the physical realm, in the world of between and perhaps others she grew. To anyone with the means to see would in those worlds they would see a giant roiling mass of shadow that rivaled Fenris in size with a vaguely feminine shape. 

She reached her limit and pulled her mouth off of the wound with a shriek that sounded out as loud as a bean sidhe’s cry. A warm font of wolf-god blood sprayed her but was sucked into her blackness in the same way as the light and she dropped to the ground, flipping midair to land on all fours. 

She spat on the ground and within the darkness that was her face a hint of a distasteful grimace could be seen. 

“Fucking geriatric werewolf.” She snarled. It figured, she had thought Hoyle tasted gamey, a long caged god was worse, so much worse. She would need to get this taste out of her mouth and if she were going to do it how she liked, there was something she was going to need to take care of first. She spat again and rose up to her full, petite height. Though it was night, though her body was sucking in the light a shadow fell behind her and stretched long as if a light had just dipped up above the horizon and shone long and low on her. Her shadow was as large as Siya was small and it was more than a match for the god-wolf.

She stepped out from under him and circled around toward the front, her steps casual and slow and when she was not too far from his line of vision she stopped and slipped two onyx fingers into her mouth and whistled, long and low, just like you would to summon a dog.

“Hey Fucker.” She called, her tone insolent and arrogant, meant to irritate and attract. “You are nothing but a fucking Dog let off his chain by an idiot and you are too fucking stupid to take your freedom and run. So now we get to play.”

She cracked her knuckles loudly like a street tough and sneered at him. 

“The first thing I want you to do is Play dead, I’m going to teach you, I think you will like it.” 

With that she blurred towards the weakened god, speed and shadow woven together. She would rip him to fucking pieces for what he had done to her Atticus and the others would see that he was no longer the unstoppable force, he was just a piece of shit who didn’t know his place.