▸He holds Hiroe's face oh so gently in one hand, his breathing running ragged as if it was a kiss.
Oh how he'd cared for her. Wanted to protect her from the world and the way it treated the less fortunate so poorly. Even in his selfish plight for taking a gift she did not want, was he still thinking of Hiroe first.
For there was logic to this theft, flawed and diabolical. Hiroe had been given a gift of the gods, and Leo watched as she tried to reject it, complain about the fact they had given her power when she wanted none. And while she tried to live a normal enough life, he started plotting. If she didn't want the power given to her, He'd take it for himself, free her from the burden of being the god's little favorite, and use said power for his own gain.
Leo stares down at Hiroe, his own sharp, green eyes boring down on her in a subtle reverence as he watches her scream and writhe. He'd be lying if he said it wasn't a gorgeous sight, Hiroe soaked in crimson as that eye is plucked free from it's socket. He continues to hold onto her, as if letting go meant certain death. Because, despite everything, despite knowing there's only a modicum of a chance this could ultimately kill her. He still worries it will.
"Shhhh, It'll be all over soon." He soothes Hiroe, the glint of gentleness in his eyes juxtapozed by the wicked smile he wore as his plan unfolded just how he'd wanted to. And soon, Leo would be just as powerful as the gods that favored the woman he loved.
He's hesitant to let go of her, hesitant to let her crumple to the dirtied ground of the flat rooftop. Because of course he'd asked her to meet him up here, where no one could bear witness to his horrific action of goring Hiroe in a bid to obtain power. of course Leo would lure her here behind the guise of a date. Because he still cared, enough to make it seem romantic.
And once he finally does let go, gently shaking her hand off his wrist as if it were a delicate butterfly. He takes a step back, not wanting to get her in the splash zone of his next move. As he looks Hiroe in the face, takes his now free hand and-
There's no delicate gentleness to it like he'd done with Hiroe's, no tenderness or soft touches. Just a hand, digging into the socket to get rid of an uneccessary extremity. Blood pouring down his cheek in a rabid waterfall as he frees it with grunts and groans of pain. Somehow still concious, still aware.
With still enough strength to drop his eye to the cement, only to replace it with Hiroe's. The process gruesome, bloody and brutal.
After that, he drops to his knees, breath ragged with exertion as he blinks, rolling his eyes around as if all he'd really done was change a pair of contacts. Blood and gore still ooze from a now occupied socket. And he laughs, Manic and Wild and relieved. He's done it. He's taken control of power he so desperately craved.
