"You speak of your rules of who should and should not do what as if they're universal," Allan purred, stroking his fingers over the selection of implements Naomi had on hand.  "What difference did it make whether they were human, angel, or elf?  In death or undeath, it's the same.  But now, at least, their stories will go on."<br/><br/>He selected a box cutter for his next tool, and spun on Naomi.  Two slashes, from collarbone to leg, leaving long, shallow gashes in her flesh but cutting away her clothing, exposing her flesh.  It would be easy to just slash her throat, but he felt she deserved a bit more involved of a send-off.  The naked flesh did nothing for him, really, but the lack of clothing made his aim much more precise.  And, if Naomi had any residual sense of shame (unlikely, but he'd seen stranger), it would enhance the experience.  Not for the better, perhaps, but still...