[What does she do? She merely stands, and waits, and watches. There's a faint glimmer of something that is both eagerness and hate- desire and anger -in her gaze. But all of these feelings feed directly back to herself, not toward Grell; she wants to be hurt like that, to bleed and scream so vulnerably as the masked people do, and despises herself for being unable. Pain is only a single, lovely memory standing out dagger-sharp against a sea of snowy nothing. No sensation. No proof of her own existence, failed and flawed as it is.
Daniella wonders if her turn with the scythe will come soon. She hopes it will, and that she'll feel the blade pierce her body to spread a fire of beautiful agony. It doesn't matter if this is just a dream; she's beyond caring about such details.]
[Bloodlust envelopes her. Everyone will die. Everyone bows to her power as Death's medium. None shall be an exception. Not even this woman. Beautiful as she is, Grell shall make her more beautiful in red, a work of savage art and passion.
The scythe still dripping with the blood of those before, Grell slashes at the woman, intending to lay open her chest.]
[She smiles, very faintly, as the blade slices through the air toward her. Her eyes don't leave it as it travels in that murderous arc, and the moment is loaded with anticipation and need- hurt her, please, make her feel something, anything -before it hits home.
There's a spray of red as her clothes and skin part, a bright and all consuming flash of pain. Daniella's smile grows wider, more dreamy, as she falls backward. The blade bit deep enough to sever something vital. But it is only a dream, the agony and blood mere figments, and her joyful expression fades to one of confusion as her body disappears- she's gone before she can hit the floor.
In the Gardens, Daniella wakes up into the living, breathing world and shrieks out her dashed hope.]
Daniella wonders if her turn with the scythe will come soon. She hopes it will, and that she'll feel the blade pierce her body to spread a fire of beautiful agony. It doesn't matter if this is just a dream; she's beyond caring about such details.]
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The scythe still dripping with the blood of those before, Grell slashes at the woman, intending to lay open her chest.]
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There's a spray of red as her clothes and skin part, a bright and all consuming flash of pain. Daniella's smile grows wider, more dreamy, as she falls backward. The blade bit deep enough to sever something vital. But it is only a dream, the agony and blood mere figments, and her joyful expression fades to one of confusion as her body disappears- she's gone before she can hit the floor.
In the Gardens, Daniella wakes up into the living, breathing world and shrieks out her dashed hope.]
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