[for a moment, it seems almost attached, like his not-quite-flesh-anymore has fused with it--]

[and then it tugs free in a sludgy stretching coil of darkness, molasses-thick and dripping. a few of the darkness-tendrils painting Ven's metal skin fade, like the balance is shifting, and the darkness keeps flowing out of his hand, dripping, pooling, coagulating...]



[sorry I can never resist boss music]