Killing was an interesting topic. Quite the sensitive topic at that, and quite understandably. There weren’t many people who wanted to be slain, especially in more GRUESOME methods. Though, perhaps being because she was DEATH itself, she had what some would consider a MORBID fascination with it.
Her eyes scanned over the area, looking over the poor victim that was on the table, rather mutilated, blood the same color of her hair scattered around. Never stood a chance.
Her hand hovered over the body, ready to examine the cold flesh when footfalls echoed. Turning her glaze over, a large man had entered. She could sense the death rolling off of him, feel it within her bones.
❝ You did QUITE the number on this one. ❞