â-Beautiful. Defenseless. Vulnerable. It would be so easy to just grab her by the neck and crush out her life force then and there. But no. Before he had to go on with his plan, before he would eradicate the single threat that could make his light disappear, he had to do something, for it might be the last she would ever feel the act. Grabbing her by the neck and lifting her frail body up by a few good inches above her bed, the sentient alter gave his very own murder princess a bitter smile, forcefully crashing his lips against her own tiers as he tightened the grasp around her milky collar, breathing in every last breath she tried to choke out and choking out whatever life she had left in that dreary, dreary vessel.
"Iâm going to miss you."
She'd always wondered what it felt like to lose one's breath. She'd seen it countless times, dealt it out in the most wonderful ways possible, and enforced it with her two hands. How ironic, then, that she would leave this world -- this body -- in the same way as her twin did. So this, she thought, was what it felt like to have hands that would leave its final bruising marks on your throat. There was only bitter fascination, and a near-insatiable thirst for a single bite of his lips. Instead of gasping for breath, and instead of struggling, her fingers found purchase in his familiar locks, teeth clamping down upon his lower lip. Hard enough, it seemed, so that the last thing she tasted were not his tiers but the crimson metal coating her sinful tongue before all evidence of life left the delicate murderer, the darkness suffering its death in the hands of tainted light.













