[The Liberator bares her teeth, thinking about them more again. They're gone now, and (as far as she knows) she made sure of that.
Still supplementing her thoughts with far more gesturing than she would with her own people, she points back and forth between her and the Drifter; For comparison, two people, herself with a broad golden aura, the Drifter's smaller and faint. Sharp tendrils of purple from outside stabbing inside the fainter aura, muddying and tainting the gold. The touch of the alien mind is something she can't replicate except in visual metaphor, and the heavy feeling of displeasure and disgust.
Alternatively, in a flicker, the formerly gold aura goes darker, darker purple, and the darkened silhouette of the Drifter clutches their head and falls, shaking as if in a seizure of some kind before lying still, all color fading.
The Liberator's own personal feeling of disgust and fury is intense by this point, adding her own counterpoint with another foot stomp; one of those insectile aliens smashed by unseen force against a stone wall, so hard that its exoskeleton is cracked open and yellow fluid sprayed everywhere, like an oversized bug splattered on a windshield: very, very dead.
One simple question escalated pretty quickly emotionally here.]
no subject
Still supplementing her thoughts with far more gesturing than she would with her own people, she points back and forth between her and the Drifter; For comparison, two people, herself with a broad golden aura, the Drifter's smaller and faint. Sharp tendrils of purple from outside stabbing inside the fainter aura, muddying and tainting the gold. The touch of the alien mind is something she can't replicate except in visual metaphor, and the heavy feeling of displeasure and disgust.
Alternatively, in a flicker, the formerly gold aura goes darker, darker purple, and the darkened silhouette of the Drifter clutches their head and falls, shaking as if in a seizure of some kind before lying still, all color fading.
The Liberator's own personal feeling of disgust and fury is intense by this point, adding her own counterpoint with another foot stomp; one of those insectile aliens smashed by unseen force against a stone wall, so hard that its exoskeleton is cracked open and yellow fluid sprayed everywhere, like an oversized bug splattered on a windshield: very, very dead.
One simple question escalated pretty quickly emotionally here.]