I can feel her tremble against my grip. I don't waiver. I don't let her sorrow filled eyes sway me. I don't let her luring words haunt me. I don't let her seductive tricks freeze me.
I commit fully to the act of this difficult task that my friends bestowed on me. The viper must lose its venom. I suck her dry (pause) of her poison.
The spinal fluid fills the syringe in my hand and glistens in the moonlight. The garden remains serene and calm throughout this archaic exchange.
She gasps for air as her power dissolves from her veins. I hold my breath as I await the results. The god of love is not a safe one to appease. Dior's safety also crosses my mind.
What if a vessel dies when its covenant is broken? How much of her power did I steal? Oh gods. What have I done?
She falls to her knees and crumples into a broken pile of limp flesh. Her pulse and breath still remains but she has fallen deep into slumber.
