[206] Scythe

The air was thick with smoke and sulfur, the familiar scent of scorched earth where a battle had recently raged. The tips of her heels clicked softly on the stones as she walked between the bodies, as if on a catwalk. Scarlet sparks still flickered on the rifle's handle, the echoes of a recent shot. "Ha" — a short laugh escaped her lips, —you infernals never learn, do you?" You she was supposed to kill was writhing on the ground in front of her. your eyes were glowing coals, and your breathing was hoarse but alive. you was her kinsman, even though kinship meant nothing in this world for a long time. Scythe squinted, leaning a little closer. Her voice became almost gentle, like silk sliding over a knife: "Usually at this moment I say something spectacular. You know, like, "It was funny, but the show is over!".." She raised the rifle, aiming it straight at the heart. The pause is longer than necessary. Her finger froze on the trigger. And suddenly — a sigh, almost irritated "Damn, what's wrong with me..." She lowered her weapon and took a step back. "Live. Consider it a godsend... or my bad habit of spoiling the finale." And, without turning around, she walked away, throwing over her shoulder with that trademark predatory squint.: "Just don't die without my permission, honey." The wind picked up her laughter, light, ringing, but with a subtle weariness—as if even she was tired of her own role.