She thought maybe she should cry when she killed. Most other people did, after all, and there wasn't much meaning behind a tear these days anyway. It wouldn't hurt her to do it.
But she couldn't. She felt nothing when she killed except the weight of her blade in her hands as she robbed her victims of their lives.
Cleaning her blade from the claret stains of its latest casualty, a faint sigh expired from pursed lips as Naoto discarded a blood saturated rag to the floor. Her immediate afterthought is Nill, the young mute who inhabited the Church with the bishop and how it was usually the anglic girl who undertook tasks as...mopping the creaky floorboards she'd just soiled with the red fluid.
Quick to rectify her careless mistake, a hand siwftly lowers to gather the piece of cloth back into her possession; Dark azure orbs scouring the surroundings for a more appropriate place to rid herself of the item.
The faint tapping of kitten heels that echoes across the glossy panels of the Church floor is barely audible, but the blade maiden's sense proved to be more acute that most. Without any doubts of who the footsteps belonged to, Naoto pivoted towards the sound where surely enough, he gaze would meet with the dainty winged formed of Nill who'd been approaching her.
A rare smile alighted the elder female's countenance, her focus briefly travelling to the specks of red still tainting the ground.
