Friend to Foe [Diadem vs Chair]

The jousting chair whose fabric is adorned with a pattern of old keys strikes me with its weapon.

I won't let Key Chair kill me, though. Although a friend shouldn't be someone I want to kill, I can feel the piece of Tom Riddle's soul inside me that's urging me to kill my friend. I'm a horcrux. I can't be expected to be kind.


knife

My friend-turned-foe fights back. I feel its lance against my silver "flesh" that makes up my being.

I feel adrenaline pulsing through me, and I strike again, ready to kill my former friend.

knife

Stuffing is falling out of Key Chair's body. I can feel myself thirsting for more damage to be done to my foe. My pliers at the ready, I strike again.


knife

If I had a nervous system, I would have felt pain from what Key Chair did next, but I don't have one, so I didn't feel any pain. Instead, I just kept going with what I was doing. I was going to finish what I had started. Pliers at the ready, I attacked again.

knife

Key Chair and its small green companion are one, but that doesn't matter to me. If I have to take down the little green one, too, when I take down Key Chair, I will. I am a ruthless tiara with a lust for blood, or, in this case, the stuffing of my enemy.

knife

Kill. That's what I wanted to do. Kill. That's what I needed to do. Kill. That's what I was going to do.

knife