Bathory
She loved it. The feel of it, sliding over her skin. The way it looked, slopping in waves over the lip of the bath, running down the sides like a crimson waterfall. Most of all, she loved the heat, constant and reassuring. It was blood, but it felt like a blanket.
The Creature
It was hideous. It had the head of a dog, but with great teeth like a serpent, set in the maw of whale. The thick, misshapen head sat upon the twisted body clad in scales and spines, like the foul offspring of a lizard and a porcupine. Its clawed toes drummed a sick rhythm against the cave floor.
The Cold Throne
It was cold to sit upon. The royal throne. He did not think it would be so, but it was made of bare steel, after all.
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