writing_shadows

Gianna was never quite sure if she enjoyed killing or not. She didn’t kill of her own accord, only when ordered to or to help spare her masters in some way, so when she did it was all mixed up with the joy of having done well by them.

But it was beautiful.

Every time it was beautiful in a whole new way that made her stop, awestruck by the sight. The red gushing, seeping, trickling all over skins of a hundred beautiful shades, each turning paler and more perfect as the life left them. The eyes caught with that look of fear, hate, surprise or anger turning glassy as they began to look past her, through her, settling on something too wondrous for mortals to behold. In time the flesh would cool as the humours settled; limbs still supple and slack before the rigor can set in, that wouldn’t come for some hours yet.

But did she enjoy it? She knew she loved seeing them cross over, their transcendence was a glorious thing to see; beguiling and alluring and still so very taboo even after all of these years. Though she loved seeing it from any cause, her own hand didn’t make the act any sweeter. And the cutting, stabbing and suffocation had its charms as well. Though at heart she thought she would sooner have her partner live through these things than die because of them; in them it was the dance of pain that she enjoyed, the subtle balance where one should never inflict too much nor too little.

Killing was about love. The love she held for the master who ordered it done, the love she held for the victim she helped to pass, the love of the cutting, the love of the vision of death. Once she’d dared listen to their thoughts as they passed but such a thing was surely wrong she decided, it was such a private thing that she dared not intrude again like some common peeping Tom. It had made her feel dirty for weeks after, even after she scrubbed herself from head to toe.

She remembered her first kill, though it was many years ago, it had been a simple act of mercy. A vessel drained too deeply who would have passed in time, better that she finished it for them there in the warmth than leave them to die in the cold streets. She’d been such a sweet girl and Gianna had to scold herself quite harshly later for her improprieties after the act, though she liked to think the girl would not have minded and would have welcomed the softer death that was given.

So if you enjoy every bit around killing, do you enjoy killing?