His hand was smooshed together with Sam's in an awkward clammy highblood hold. He dearly wanted to yank his hand away, and shot a questioning look at Sam, who was also caught with him in the same grip. Psii associated that too-warm skin only with Signless, and was constantly jarred when humans exhibited the same touch, not to mention bleeding almost the same bright red. Humans were weird, but some of them were alright.

Psii didn't realize Initiate was quoting his scriptures at first, assuming it to be a song or some random poetry. He was too distracted by his hand being held captive. When the memory clicked into place and he belatedly realized, he hissed and violently pulled his hand away, skidding on the ice as he pushed himself back with his feet.

"Don't you quote that clown shit at me! There'th no one to cull here! They're all dead! Firtht they came for the maroonbloodth, then they came for the bronzebloodth, then they came for me, and there'th no one left, thtop it! Thtop it!!"

The smell of blood was already in the cave, inescapable. It didn't take much to remember the bodies of friends strung up next to paintings and scriptures written in their blood, or the impromptu slave "courtblocks" where one Subjugglator was judge, jury, and executioner. Psii shook, his back burning as the whip seared its memory on him again.