Dying was always so hard, agonizing and enough to be the only reason why Iris would be terrified of it. She may have been different, far from what he had expected, but it didn't mean she was saved from pain. The curse of her mortal body brought sensitivity to her nerves, like a newborn grown into a woman within her first day of life. Everything was fresh, new, breathing in life and holding a health that was stronger than any woman her age. They lived their years and broke down their bodies, she was still growing accustomed to it.<br/><br/>Knowing of the sleep that would soon come, she accepted it easily over being beaten or worse. Strata's grip had been agonizing enough, but it didn't compare to the pain it brought to watching his eyes as he hovered over her. Lustful at the scene, entranced as if under a spell. Was her death really so wonderful to watch, as her face swelled with despair and body twitched with it's final moments of struggle? Sad enough she still hoped that he would release her, to laugh and carry sweet words into her ears. But he didn't, instead he watched as her vision faded to black and her senses tore away.<br/><br/>She was gone before the crack echoed from her crushed throat, muscles falling limp as her limbs splayed out across the bed. Arms draped at her sides and long hair spanning into a black web underneath, Iris looked just as peaceful as anyone sleeping. No sounds nor movements hinted to any signs of life as she became the corpse that Roan created so easily, bruised and dented by the hands she longed to hold in hers.<br/><br/>Though her body had died, Death failed to trail his shadows towards towards her. Instead the darkness took her, clouding her mind while she remained blind to the truth of what happened. The damage down was thankfully minimal yet time would still be needed, a short while until a new level of torture would rupture through her. Another reason for her fear, and her fight.