How beautiful wrathful ice can be. It was thought to be a warm feeling, one that overtook you like arson, but it seemed even the cold creatures could be perfect harbingers of a boiling vengeance. She was beautiful for it, always in charge of her emotions otherwise. He'd not seen the twins die, but he hope they had passion in their eyes in the end. However they had laid down, broken open with glass, it had spurred this girl to have at him. And he was grateful for that.<br/><br/>He counted the seconds it took her to move, and it was slower than most advanced amateurs, in the end. While her will carried her through most of the agonizing shackles of the Veil - which painted her as formidable beyond most - she had none of her essential speed left. He'd fallen in love with her when she couldn't guard her fear, and let it slip to show on her face before she could leash it again. To think he got to see that. He'd made sure she knew, his violet eyes flaring with triumph and hunger, so he gave her an expression to remember, too. Then he was busy with courting the depths of the scissor's wounds. He even breathed like it was the act of pleasing her, a little lower.<br/><br/>The lick of water as it clucked out of the canister made him smile into her blood. With most of the hurts already mending, he sat up to look at her as her usual weapon abandoned her. She was just a girl beating the wet grass. His grin was nightmarish in his beautiful face, with lips the color of her crimson. Was he not a fitting death, now? He stroked her cheek and sucked two fingers like his mouth was a quim. When he drew them out the saliva coating them were pink form her blood.<br/><br/>He pushed the digits into the twin scissor wounds to pet her on the inside. By the time he pulled them out the gashes shut like they had never been there. His head flung to the side when she hit him, but she didn't have the strength to even leave a mark. He smiled widely and stood to look down at her. Her magic had been stretched out in her blood, and it had been a chore to extract and isolate, but he'd been able to isolate it. He was rudely unruffled by the battle, the blood kiss was the only real trace of distress.<br/><br/>"I've killed Lyra Bremmington." is what I've done to you. "You're just a girl now, with a good name. I locked your spells away, and took your strength." he said and leaned down to pick up her sword and her wrist. He rested the rapier on his shoulder as he started dragging her toward the garden door in the Geslack house. "You failed, but you're not going to be sent to the afterlife where you can ask for forgiveness from Astor and Alvina. You'll be my plaything. Isn't that much better?" he asked and pulled her unceremoniously over the threshold, the Veil covering her now, leeching every ounce of her strength. She'd not even be allowed the strength to cough, the dark blood simply pushing at her lungs and trickling down her chin.