virago

𝔭𝔯𝔬𝔩𝔬𝔤𝔲𝔢

[𝖟𝖊𝖗𝖔]

The blood dripped down her fingers, staining her skin as it went. There was a feeling of warmth that burned brightly in the pit of her stomach that had surely begun to tear its way up her throat. Marisol's gaze slowly fell to the three familiar people laying unnaturally still at her feet. The full moon reflected off her cold, steel blue eyes with a mesmerisingly dangerous shine.

"It's okay." Her voice was gentle, but even so, it shook so near to breaking all the same. Marisol squeezed her eyes shut tightly as her senses began to return to her. The smell of iron was almost overwhelming; it filled her nose with such intensity that when she finally opened her eyes, they met her own reflection in the mirror that lay discarded across the room.

Marisol stared into her own cold gaze, the spiderwebbed cracks in the surface of the reflection morphed her blood-stained face. A shaky hand came up to meet her cheek, it wiped through the blood in an attempt to clean the muck away; the action merely smudged the viscous liquid, pushing it across her skin in streaked lines.

She didn't feel pity, certainly not for the twisted bodies she stood in front of. She didn't feel anger, fury, or anything that could have possibly provoked her into such a blind rage. The slowly-drying blood on her hands and face didn't bring her any kind of sickness.

Rather, perhaps it brought her comfort.

Relief.