two krillers one pointy jam
The only thought on her mind was that of blood, of different hues splattered across the ground and staining her gorgeous little trident. The blood made it interesting, red and green mixing to make a strange muddy yellow. Her delight was measured in that large smile of hers, it wasn't hers though, not really.
Eyes scanned the ground, it was getting muddier out and less snow covered the ground these days than those past. The sounds of her shoes lifting from the ground was evident, an almost suction noise that rattled her brain. This wasn't right, it was too loud. Everything felt like a dream.
Was any of it real? Honestly she couldn't tell anymore, everything felt surreal- even taking a step forward didn't seem like it was her own doing. Sure killing everyone seemed like a good plan at the time, but she had a sinking feeling with each person that made it to the end of her pointy jam- that it wasn't what she wanted. No it wasn't what she wanted at all, even if Beforus sucked, even if no one believed her and everyone loathed her for her position in the spectrum. Sure she wanted to murder most of her friends on a daily basis anyway, and even tried to off them in the game more often than not- but her views had changed just enough in the time she was dead.
This wasn't what she wanted.
Thief of life, sure, but killing everyone for no real reason and without any real joy? That wasn't her.
Fuchsia eyes locked onto the next victim, someone leaning against a tree with what looked like a sword through their chest and a wing detached. Blinking she recognized him a bit, whatshisname... Strider! Dave, right? But why'd he have all those funky feathers around his neck and why the wings? She wanted to talk to him and hear some of his raps, she never got the chance to on the meteor because lil Maryam refused to let her do shit. She was a bit bitter about that still, damn she was trustworthy!
Well apparently not right now as she threw her trident, noting as it slammed into his left arm and nearly severed it. That grin was back, a false mask.
Still she walked up to him slowly, barely registering any words or pain as she kicked him hard in the gut, removing the trident and stabbing him through the chest several times until he was just a bloody pulp. Seems he was already nearing death with that sword, even if that wasn't the cause of it. He looked sick, his face had been flushed and chances were he'd have died of infections if she hadn't finished him off. Seems like the right thing to do. He was still vaguely alive when she left him, sprites were tough shit after all. That was fine, she knew he'd die of blood loss eventually anyway- something in the back of her mind said so. That wasn't her voice.
