May 4
@drunivers
the room is silent. her heart is loud, loud, loud. there's only a distant drip. blood hitting the floor, running down at her feet. she isn't entirely there, she is hunger, she is a blade. it is rare, where the violence isn't a decision. where she is only instrument. she turns, corpses laid about. she isn't an assassin there is a lack of elegance in the results but not in her poise.
dahlya turns to look at him, eyes almost red. a ghost. a mirage. the blade is neatly tucked away, and she licks her lips clean. "there. problem solved." no more guards inconveniencing her, them. this moment between the two. "-now let's talk."