► four → curse → video/audio。
“Nephilim.”De Quincey staggered, righted himself, and spat at Will’s feet.
Will drew the pistol from his belt and aimed it at de Quincey. “One of the Devil’s own abominations, aren’t you? You don’t even deserve to live in this world with the rest of us, and yet when we let you do so out of pity, you throw our gift back in our faces.”
“As if we need your pity,” de Quincey replied. “As if we could ever be less than you. You Nephilim, thinking you are-” He stopped abruptly. He was so smeared with filth that it was hard to tell, but it looked as if the cut on his face had already healed.
“Are what?” Will cocked the pistol; the click was loud even above the noise of the battle. “Say it.”
The vampire’s eyes burned. “Say what?”
“‘God,’” said Will. “You were going to tell me that we Nephilim play at God, weren’t you? Except you can’t even say the word. Mock the Bible all you want with your little collection, you still can’t say it.” His finger was white on the trigger of the gun. “Say it. Say it, and I’ll let you live.”
The vampire bared his teeth. “You cannot kill me with that-that stupid human toy.”
“If the bullet passes through your heart,” Will said, his aim unwavering, “you’ll die. And I am a very good shot.”
De Quincey raised his head. He opened his mouth. A thin rattle came out as he tried to speak, tried to shape a word his soul would not let him say. He gasped again, choked, and put a hand to his throat. Will began to laugh.
- The Infernal Devices.
[Once Will is aware of what has happened and what was broadcast, he doesn't bother with commenting immediately. When he does, he makes a point of making his voice as level and lacking in any discernible emotion as he can.] I can't help but wonder if that served any purpose. I shouldn't imagine it held much value if entertainment happened to be the root desire, but- [He pauses, uttering a vague, non-committal noise; he's perfectly aware that of everything, it could've been far worse.]
But one would have thought it'd go for something more pleasant. [A beat.] Pleasing. There hardly seems any point to voyeurism if it's going to make a point of being anything and everything but.
Will drew the pistol from his belt and aimed it at de Quincey. “One of the Devil’s own abominations, aren’t you? You don’t even deserve to live in this world with the rest of us, and yet when we let you do so out of pity, you throw our gift back in our faces.”
“As if we need your pity,” de Quincey replied. “As if we could ever be less than you. You Nephilim, thinking you are-” He stopped abruptly. He was so smeared with filth that it was hard to tell, but it looked as if the cut on his face had already healed.
“Are what?” Will cocked the pistol; the click was loud even above the noise of the battle. “Say it.”
The vampire’s eyes burned. “Say what?”
“‘God,’” said Will. “You were going to tell me that we Nephilim play at God, weren’t you? Except you can’t even say the word. Mock the Bible all you want with your little collection, you still can’t say it.” His finger was white on the trigger of the gun. “Say it. Say it, and I’ll let you live.”
The vampire bared his teeth. “You cannot kill me with that-that stupid human toy.”
“If the bullet passes through your heart,” Will said, his aim unwavering, “you’ll die. And I am a very good shot.”
De Quincey raised his head. He opened his mouth. A thin rattle came out as he tried to speak, tried to shape a word his soul would not let him say. He gasped again, choked, and put a hand to his throat. Will began to laugh.
- The Infernal Devices.
[Once Will is aware of what has happened and what was broadcast, he doesn't bother with commenting immediately. When he does, he makes a point of making his voice as level and lacking in any discernible emotion as he can.] I can't help but wonder if that served any purpose. I shouldn't imagine it held much value if entertainment happened to be the root desire, but- [He pauses, uttering a vague, non-committal noise; he's perfectly aware that of everything, it could've been far worse.]
But one would have thought it'd go for something more pleasant. [A beat.] Pleasing. There hardly seems any point to voyeurism if it's going to make a point of being anything and everything but.