Burn [CW: Short]

[Damiano]

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Burn

Standing on the wooden pedestal the local carpenter was kind enough to make me, I look in disgust at the villagers' faces. I sit in agonizing annoyance at their repetitive and frankly, quite unoriginal chant. Burn the witch. Burn the witch. Burn the- How about burn the stupid towns folkfor never shutting the fuck up. God -well you know- I wish they'd get on with it already.

I sigh and wince due to the ropes being tied so tightly around my chest. You turn one guy into a zombie and all the sudden you're responsible for a pandemic. I mean, it's not my fault he bit somebody. If they hadn't cut my damn tongue out maybe I'd be able to explain that. How cruel of them.

I can barely believe I got caught. I mean the smartest person here probably couldn't invent the fucking wheel. I was impressed they had a functioning well. Now I’m pissed they can tie a rope. As the last bale of hay and wood is tossed at my feet I look at the woman whose husband I so kindly revived. If I'm correct now that her undead husband is now un-undead, meaning she has no family. Nobody'll miss her.

I hear the preacher begin reading a prayer while everyone closes their eyes before him. Almost time for the fireworks. grind the stump of my tongue against my teeth, allowing blood to pool into my mouth. The idea that I can't preform witchcraft without speaking, such a foolish yet common mistake. Before they open their eyes, I spit the sanguine torrent as far as I can. Luckily, I'm tied high up so it doesn't take much to mark most of them. The lack of a tongue made my aim a bit sloppy but whose fault is that. But most importantly the woman takes a splash of my blood to her face. From here on it should be simple enough.

With groans of disgust the people bitch and moan before lighting the torch. They chant again as my prior body mumbles loudly, trying to stop them. Soon enough she'll realize life It's a much better view from down here. Damn was I beautiful. I'm really gonna have to dress this new body up if I plan on going anywhere. These commoner clothes, scratch that, these commoner rags are far beneath me. That woman has no taste. Well, had no taste. I can't help but wince as they light the fire and she begins screaming. I suppose this fear of fire is not my own, but my peoples. Though judging by her face of agony, no one wants to burn to death. Body possession is truly a wondrous skill. I could've just let her soul wander for eternity, but I really wanted her to burn.

I can see with her dying breath ash is exhaled. She’s likely trying to curse my name. “Let these ashen remains show that Voleur d’Arc is not to be trifled with." I sung in my new body and voice as I pirouette down the dirt road, away from my burning screaming body.