It's like Rat all over again.
The Lance's spearhead sinks into Rosseah's chest with a crunch, and blood - bright red blood, impossibly red; scarlet-beyond-scarlet - bubbles out around it. Keris is so close that it sprays onto her; staining her face, staining her dress, visible even on the red of her Amulet-clothing. Her charge took her through the yidak's guard and crashing into it, knocking it off its feet with cannonball force, and they're in a horrible parody of an embrace as awareness leaves the many, many eyes and the endless laughter peters out.
The corpus ripples slightly, and Keris lays a hand on the face that emerges. It's not Rosseah's 'true' face. Rosseah had no true face. But it's one she recognises; a favoured form, an oft-used identity that appears again and again in Yamal's memories.
"Go to sleep, Rosseah," she whispers fondly. "I'll remember you. I promise."
The last breath of laughter is almost natural. Then the spectre is torn apart by the howling wind which tears out of its form in a faint scream. Its corpus is left flensed over the ground, in a final mark of disrespect, its many faces locked in silent laughter. Slowly, it begins to dissolve.
Silence falls, save for the music of the harps.
Keris breathes in raggedly, and the shredded body disintegrates, pulled into her lungs before it can fall apart on its own. She drops several inches onto the floor with an "oof", rolls over, and lies there, staring up at the ceiling.
"... ugh," she manages after a while.
A few minutes later, she starts to cry again, soft and almost silent.
