Jiyong: "Just kill me!"
A wanted man on his knees, bloodied and beaten. She’d heard his name (Jiyong, Jiyong) , just whispers she could get if she concentrated enough but now he was here at her feet, begging. Begging like a fool to a an unmerciful queen with a blade between her fingers poised to strike.
A fool with white wings she itches to clip, and stamp on them until they are black like hers. Rage is not unfamiliar to a warrior, but this rage is like a void. A blackness in her chest that threatens to consume her, and move her hand to slit his throat. She itches to drag the blade of the holy across his skin and watch how pretty the red makes him.
Mercy.
She drops the blade.
"I care nothing for the bounties of the damned or the graced. I won’t do that. I won’t paint myself in red to satisfy you. If you want to die, then kill yourself. You’re a coward, anyways." She stated simply, almost airily as if the words carried no weight, but the disgust was clearly written on her face. Lips lifted into a sneer, wrinkles creased in the middle of her brows, and eyes flashing with fire.
Nothing holy about that.