[There's something to be said about the adrenaline of killing a man. D-ne can push his arm away effortlessly, with one final stab to Valjean's collar. It's like she can do anything. It's like...
...well, honestly it's kind of horrible. She wanted to smile kindly at him for his last sight, but she can't manage. Why? Even though he's dying for a good cause.
About the time she yanks the razor from his body does she realize her left eye still itches. She takes a few steps back and again rubs at it, harsher and harder, only to realize she's smeared blood on her face, all around her cheek.]
Mmngh- [Awful, disgusting, get it off-
One rough rub later and she's blinked away the itching. If she were thinking more clearly, she'd realize that persistent itch, that blurring was her contact shifting, jostled from her first attempt to wipe away tears. She'd realize that contact now lays on the floor, just near Valjean's prone body.
But she doesn't. She thinks the blurry vision is simply a result of her crying, and she's much more focused on the fact that she has blood on her face and it's fast approaching morning. She has to discard the clothes. She has to wash herself off, she has to hide the razor. She-
She looks down at Valjean. He'll be dead soon. She doesn't know where to stab to make it final, and if she tries she'll probably just hurt him more. It's a chilling and upsetting discovery, that she doesn't like the feeling of hurting him. She doesn't know if she'd like the feeling of hurting anyone.
A fair bit too late for that, though.
Careful not to step in anything, D-ne backs away. The razor drips blood, but she's too dazed to do anything to stop it.]
I- I'm--
[What use are apologies now? D-ne stumbles from the dining hall, to go clean up the evidence in the laundry room.]
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...well, honestly it's kind of horrible. She wanted to smile kindly at him for his last sight, but she can't manage. Why? Even though he's dying for a good cause.
About the time she yanks the razor from his body does she realize her left eye still itches. She takes a few steps back and again rubs at it, harsher and harder, only to realize she's smeared blood on her face, all around her cheek.]
Mmngh- [Awful, disgusting, get it off-
One rough rub later and she's blinked away the itching. If she were thinking more clearly, she'd realize that persistent itch, that blurring was her contact shifting, jostled from her first attempt to wipe away tears. She'd realize that contact now lays on the floor, just near Valjean's prone body.
But she doesn't. She thinks the blurry vision is simply a result of her crying, and she's much more focused on the fact that she has blood on her face and it's fast approaching morning. She has to discard the clothes. She has to wash herself off, she has to hide the razor. She-
She looks down at Valjean. He'll be dead soon. She doesn't know where to stab to make it final, and if she tries she'll probably just hurt him more. It's a chilling and upsetting discovery, that she doesn't like the feeling of hurting him. She doesn't know if she'd like the feeling of hurting anyone.
A fair bit too late for that, though.
Careful not to step in anything, D-ne backs away. The razor drips blood, but she's too dazed to do anything to stop it.]
I- I'm--
[What use are apologies now? D-ne stumbles from the dining hall, to go clean up the evidence in the laundry room.]