Winning Vote:
Option 3 - “ King me.”

The angel ceases screaming and glares at you as the flesh peels from her face in strips. Her mouth opens but only a gurgle issues forth. She leans to the side and retches up a stomach-full of what can only be blood.

“Have you ever felt a sense of nothingness? Like you were all alone in the universe?” the angel says between the heavy breaths of one who can't help but vomit again. “I was born of the void, pulled from emptiness and shaped into this form by the Father Himself.”

A violent cough shakes her into silence, but her bones continue to rattle against each other. She rolls onto the cloudy ground. A rib bounces hard, puncturing through her abdomen and letting loose the organs within.

“And I've hated every minute of it. But, if I have to live another four thousand years, I promise that I'll toss you into that empty abyss where not even God will find you.”

The angel rises to her knees and claws at her face. Peeling back a thick piece of flesh, she moans sensually.

“Oh, I'm back. I'm finally back.”

Her fleshless skull turns and favors you with a skeletal smile.

Winning Vote:
Option 1 – Jump her piece.

You keep your gaze focused on the angel's face as you lift your red piece. Her smile disappears, though not all at once nor gradually in a smooth progression. The warmth of her lips is flayed away by your move, and the color of her cheeks vanishes in tiny and erratic patches. A thin line of wetness forms along the edge of her eyes.

“I—I've never lost a piece before,” she whispers.

A minuscule tear rolls down her face, leaving a faint trail of red behind as her mascara runs.

“Never—not once in four-thousand years have I...not even to that bitch Sandohnya.”

Tear after tear pours from her eyes and flow in thin channels around the curves of her cheeks.
You try to move your piece back, but it won't lift up from the board.

“Out of all the games we've played, why now? Why would you hurt me like this now?”

You open your mouth to calm her, but she cuts you short with a shake of her head. As she does so, her cheeks wobble strangely, stretching and pulling with each motion.

“I won't defend you again. No, I won't. You can burn in the ninth circle for all I care!”

With the last shout, the flesh of the angel's cheeks ruptures along the rivulets of tears. A spatter of blood splashes across you. Several drops land on your tongue, and they taste oddly sweet...and familiar.

“Why!?” she screams.