iBrevity wrote:xxx
[nameless] ♀ xxx Ceres ♀
Those who bathe in blood never get used to the feel of water.
I wander through my artistic portrait like the author I am. My signature is flourishly written everywhere; in the customary way the bodies are propped upside down to drain as much blood as possible, in the way that my clever feet are careful to avoid the cooling puddles and I leave no hints in my wake. I am a perfect killer. I have no weaknesses.
This family was chosen for their gay colors and their vibrant attitudes. It was a close, affection family of members who adored one another, shared their secrets, protected their backs. There had been sixteen of them when I started.
A small groan makes my ear prick and I stop, eyes dialating, a small frown twisting my mouth. It is a sound that specifically comes from a dying human.
I follow the small sounds into the back bedroom, the first place I had begun my rage. My slaughtering was always so messy in the beginning; the mother had been torn to pieces, arms flung across the stained bed, head lolling on the lamp shade like some obscene ornament. The foolish woman had sought to protect her daughter from me.
I paused, looking at the half-closed closet, and cursed myself. I had ripped her throat out and left her gasping for air, and I tsked myself when I realized I never checked to make certain she had died. Damn.
Pushing open the hinged doors, I look down at the girl that is sucking in her last breaths. Her eyes are huge. She looks up at me and I suspect to watch hate color her gaze, and a scream to tear out of her ravaged throat. I wait twenty seconds. It ticks by on the traditional clock behind me. After a minute, I crouch down in front of her and quirk a brow at her. Her expression contains no hate. If anything, there is a deep, everlasting pity in her dying eyes.
For some reason, the emotion annoys me. I grab her beneath her chin and yank her up against the wall. I notice absently that she might only be a year or two younger then me. I must have mistaken her age earlier, judging by the vibrant pink walls of her childish room and the lace that adorned practically everything.
"What's your name, kid?" I know it probably confuses her to be called kid by a woman who looks to be her same age, but I am immortal. I haven't changed by appearance in sixty years.
She opens her mouth like a fish with its gills cut and spits out, "Ceres." The light dims from her eyes. She falls limp in my hands, but I can still detect the barely thrumming pulse in her throat. It is not too late to save her.
I growl to myself, toss the young woman over my shoulder, and turn to leave.
I have just broken the oldest rule of my knighthood, yet I can find little regret in my soul.
{I'm planning on continuing this. <:3}
This is a wonderful pairing. You are a great writer... Continue please.
Or even... 
