And his Lady was dressedtothenines, as if for an audacious funeral for her own victims. Adjusting her grandly plumed hat atop her freshly-shorn locks. Grell's embrace was hot as the fire of hell and warm as a cozy blanket. But his eyes, his eyes were colder than the Thames in the bleakest of winter months. She kept herself from looking into them for the moment.
"And be their angels of retribution, doing God's work." She slid her hand into his, "Always, as a pair."
"Always." He echoed, kissing her nape tenderly. Yes, always a pair. She was the only one he deemed fit to break the rules that governed the Grim Reapers. For her he gladly defied the laws that separated the mortals from the immortals. For her, he would do anything.
"There." Grell pointed at a prostitute who playfully shoved away her client and bid him to go home to his wife. She laughed loudly, blowing him kisses as he teased her about her disheveled state. "She twisted a wire inside herself, to draw the child from her womb and dispose of it into the sea..."
Fuel for the fire that burned in their hearts. These women, these disgusting women who wasted what they were blessed with- the ability to bear life.
The prostitute wandered into an empty alleyway to fix her appearance. Grell smiled broadly.
"Madam, madam..." The Reaper crooned, kissing her nape as he slipped a knife into her hand. "To work."
A, low, rich laugh. The sound of blood bubbling inside, the sound of hatred and anger and sheer violence that spurned her heart to pump her blood faster. It was an eery sound, like the hiss of a nearby wolf devouring its prey.
Using Grell's hand as a handle, she daintily lowered herself into the alley with a clack. Her hips swung, skirts swaying and catching the grime of the cobblestones.
How dare they. That precious, wriggling little life, tossed out to see like a fish to small for the catch. The very same life she would've held against her and cherished and kept safe. This woman was not as attractive as she was; not as honest or noble, not as pained and hurt- and yet she could bear children and Angelina could not. It was an injustice that needed correcting
( ... )
Grell vaulted down from the rooftop, blocking the entrance to the alleyway as the harlot jumped in surprise.
"Little Ladybird." The Reaper bowed elegantly, before letting her see his sharp smile. "My Madam bids you a Good Eve." She was now trapped between Grell and Angelina, the pair of them closing in at a leisurely pace.
He could smell her Death in the air. He could taste the blood about to be spilled. He could see the ribbons of her life slipping through his fingers before dissipating into her Record.
His fingers twitched and a moment later he held his beloved chainsaw in his hands. The metal teeth scraped along the cobblestones, screeching in a high-pitched whine as he got closer and closer.
"She has a bone to pick with you. And I have several."
When Angelina would find herself so wrapped in violent hunger, she often couldn't bring herself to speak. So Grell, as his duty to the division, spoke their condemnation instead. Angelina's hair swung slightly as she slunk to the woman's side. Her breath was hard.
A wicked red smile spread on her lips. "Murderess," she breathed into the woman's ear, scarcely louder than a whisper, "Murderess."
Her blade plunged into the woman's abdomen with medical precision. It only took a soft push against the woman's center of gravity to lie her flat against the cobblestones. Kicking the woman's ankles apart with her finely tailored boots, she knelt with all the grace of a London noblewoman, and made a sharp carve across the woman's lower midsection.
She was screaming, the sound so beautiful to him as he took a moment to admire Madam Red in all her glory. A rage overtook her, stripping away all the social graces and leaving her raw and savage.
The loud sounds of the extravagant nightly parties the Husband's Alley hosted drowned out their victim's screaming and the wet squelching noises as knife penetrated flesh over and over. A new sound soon joined it- the sound of whirring metal teeth splattering matter all over the cobblestones and grinding bone into splinters. His laughter echoed against the walls.
This woman, this worthless whore had thrown away her womanly right and thusly the Reaper saw it fit she be punished. His angel was carving out the organ she had defiled so casually; the organ he had not been blessed with. They would spill her blood and leave a mess that many would be hard pressed to identify as human.
When she had her fill of revenge and was satisfied, Angelina stood back, allowing her partner and lover to have the fun he desired. Blood and flesh splattered her and her exquisite gown as she stood stock-still save her trembling shoulders. Her eyes were hollow, black spheres with but a tiny blue ring around them.
Her mind seemed to have shut off to the savagery she left in the alley, and she gave a pleasured moan as the woman's screams silenced.
"Enough," She groaned, "Enough, we've had our piece here."
She stepped over the woman's shredded remains as if climbing over a puddle of something nasty in the street.
He spun around, dropping his chainsaw and closing his hands around Angelina's hips. Easily he lifted her and pinned her to the wall. "My beautiful Madam..." Grell cooed, leaning in to nose her bloodied hair and lick flecks of blood from her neck. "All resplendent in Red."
Oh but how the kill had set his heart racing, pumping adrenaline he had not felt in agonizing months since a fight with a certain vision of white amongst the rooftops. This was blood for blood and how Grell adored it.
"The most beautiful woman in London and now Rivelata." A reverent compliment as he caught her gaze with his own supernaturally bright golden eyes. The eyes of a Grim Reaper emblazoned with passion after a Reaping. Eyes so alive due to a death.
A blood-soaked hand tangled itself in her blood-soaked hair as he caught her lips in a loving kiss.
My beautiful Angelina. You are once again fit to wear Red with me.
"Ah," Angelina gasped as Grell pressed her to the wall.
Red was blood, red was death, and red was passion, and Angelina Durless was red.
"Oh... Are there more women? Shall the night wear on, my dear? The moon is not yet high. "A black-gloved finger trailed down Grell's neck, and she sang the three words, "My fair lady..."
She could feel Grell's excitement even through her skirts against her leg. Bless him, he probably couldn't help it, and loathed it. So she pressed him away gently and sashayed down the alleyway, her voice echoing down the stone walls.
"London Bridge is falling down, falling down, falling down... London Bridge is falling down..."
Grell watched her seductive saunter, eyes half-lidded and drunk on bloodlust. He licked his lips, the taste of her mouth lingering still as the heat slowly dispersed into the chilly night air. It had been too long since he had gorged himself on this much pleasure; far too long.
"My little Red Doll is not tired of playing for the night?" The Reaper teased, somehow behind her in a heartbeat and pulling her close to his chest. "Do her hands itch for more toys?"
"We must be careful, yes we must..." The warning hung in the air as Grell guided her through a labyrinth of alleyways that made up Rivelata's pleasure district. This would now be the second time they would play this game and Grell had new tactics under his expensive lace sleeves.
A woman tugged her skirts back in place before pushing up her breasts to teeter precariously behind the hem of her bodice.
"But just one more couldn't hurt before bedtime..."
Comments 18
"And be their angels of retribution, doing God's work." She slid her hand into his, "Always, as a pair."
Reply
"There." Grell pointed at a prostitute who playfully shoved away her client and bid him to go home to his wife. She laughed loudly, blowing him kisses as he teased her about her disheveled state. "She twisted a wire inside herself, to draw the child from her womb and dispose of it into the sea..."
Fuel for the fire that burned in their hearts. These women, these disgusting women who wasted what they were blessed with- the ability to bear life.
The prostitute wandered into an empty alleyway to fix her appearance. Grell smiled broadly.
"Madam, madam..." The Reaper crooned, kissing her nape as he slipped a knife into her hand. "To work."
Reply
Using Grell's hand as a handle, she daintily lowered herself into the alley with a clack. Her hips swung, skirts swaying and catching the grime of the cobblestones.
How dare they. That precious, wriggling little life, tossed out to see like a fish to small for the catch. The very same life she would've held against her and cherished and kept safe. This woman was not as attractive as she was; not as honest or noble, not as pained and hurt- and yet she could bear children and Angelina could not. It was an injustice that needed correcting ( ... )
Reply
"Little Ladybird." The Reaper bowed elegantly, before letting her see his sharp smile. "My Madam bids you a Good Eve." She was now trapped between Grell and Angelina, the pair of them closing in at a leisurely pace.
He could smell her Death in the air. He could taste the blood about to be spilled. He could see the ribbons of her life slipping through his fingers before dissipating into her Record.
His fingers twitched and a moment later he held his beloved chainsaw in his hands. The metal teeth scraped along the cobblestones, screeching in a high-pitched whine as he got closer and closer.
"She has a bone to pick with you. And I have several."
Reply
A wicked red smile spread on her lips. "Murderess," she breathed into the woman's ear, scarcely louder than a whisper, "Murderess."
Her blade plunged into the woman's abdomen with medical precision. It only took a soft push against the woman's center of gravity to lie her flat against the cobblestones. Kicking the woman's ankles apart with her finely tailored boots, she knelt with all the grace of a London noblewoman, and made a sharp carve across the woman's lower midsection.
Reply
The loud sounds of the extravagant nightly parties the Husband's Alley hosted drowned out their victim's screaming and the wet squelching noises as knife penetrated flesh over and over. A new sound soon joined it- the sound of whirring metal teeth splattering matter all over the cobblestones and grinding bone into splinters. His laughter echoed against the walls.
This woman, this worthless whore had thrown away her womanly right and thusly the Reaper saw it fit she be punished. His angel was carving out the organ she had defiled so casually; the organ he had not been blessed with. They would spill her blood and leave a mess that many would be hard pressed to identify as human.
Reply
Her mind seemed to have shut off to the savagery she left in the alley, and she gave a pleasured moan as the woman's screams silenced.
"Enough," She groaned, "Enough, we've had our piece here."
She stepped over the woman's shredded remains as if climbing over a puddle of something nasty in the street.
Reply
"My beautiful Madam..." Grell cooed, leaning in to nose her bloodied hair and lick flecks of blood from her neck. "All resplendent in Red."
Oh but how the kill had set his heart racing, pumping adrenaline he had not felt in agonizing months since a fight with a certain vision of white amongst the rooftops. This was blood for blood and how Grell adored it.
"The most beautiful woman in London and now Rivelata." A reverent compliment as he caught her gaze with his own supernaturally bright golden eyes. The eyes of a Grim Reaper emblazoned with passion after a Reaping. Eyes so alive due to a death.
A blood-soaked hand tangled itself in her blood-soaked hair as he caught her lips in a loving kiss.
My beautiful Angelina. You are once again fit to wear Red with me.
Reply
Red was blood, red was death, and red was passion, and Angelina Durless was red.
"Oh... Are there more women? Shall the night wear on, my dear? The moon is not yet high. "A black-gloved finger trailed down Grell's neck, and she sang the three words, "My fair lady..."
She could feel Grell's excitement even through her skirts against her leg. Bless him, he probably couldn't help it, and loathed it. So she pressed him away gently and sashayed down the alleyway, her voice echoing down the stone walls.
"London Bridge is falling down, falling down, falling down... London Bridge is falling down..."
Reply
"My little Red Doll is not tired of playing for the night?" The Reaper teased, somehow behind her in a heartbeat and pulling her close to his chest. "Do her hands itch for more toys?"
"We must be careful, yes we must..." The warning hung in the air as Grell guided her through a labyrinth of alleyways that made up Rivelata's pleasure district. This would now be the second time they would play this game and Grell had new tactics under his expensive lace sleeves.
A woman tugged her skirts back in place before pushing up her breasts to teeter precariously behind the hem of her bodice.
"But just one more couldn't hurt before bedtime..."
Reply
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