She didn't even hear him come down the steps.
His eyes were the only feature she could see clearly, a metallic golden color. They instilled a chilling affect in you, as well as a sad one. Staring at them for too long would either make you scream or cry. The man stepped closer, revealing the rest of his chiseled face.
He held a gun in his right hand, one of those fancy antique's that were engraved with greenery. And it was leveled right at her heart. Her breathing grew shallow, and she backed up, scooting backwards against the wall, blood smearing across the floor. He took a step forward, his hand closed around her throat, not enough to choke her, but to make sure she was looking at him. His gaze both petrified and persuaded her, so that her eyes fluttered shut, and he whispered in her ear.
"Do you wish to repent?"
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Lucielle Silas wasn't exactly your ideal model citizen. She drank, she smoked, and she dabbled in exotic drugs. Trying anything that could help with the pain of her past, no matter the consequences. Mentally, she was a complete wreck. She was bipolar and had post-traumatic stress. Physically, she was just another lost, hopeless addict. One night, she was riding an ultimate high, she was drunk, she was high, she had no care in the world, stumbling through her apartment building.
Who knew a few mistakes could lead to death? Could turn you into a murderer? Lux knew after she stabbed that man, intoxicated anger can rule your life with BPD. End a life. She ended up dead too, that night, kissed by the angel of death himself. Only this time, she came back. Not as a human. As a reaper of souls, mainly the folks who indulged in their most egregious sins. With a purpose to save a sinner, to help them find redemption, help them get a second chance, in order to earn her own.
They used my vulnerability against me. They used that weapon, to make me accept their stupid idea. And I of course, accepted it, I didn't even know what they were going to do.
They tugged and poked and even shoved their disgusting finger in your wound, just to see you cry. To see you change. No pitty in their eyes. They just continue. They drag you around with metal chains, hit you and turn you into a experiment.
But I had enough of the tugging, the clawing, the moaning, the crying and pleading for them to stop, but simply feeding them with our pain. They turned me into something, that neither do they know what I am.
Their afraid of me, of my reflexes, my strength. I killed a lot of them. They say I have a cold heart, that I don't feel nothing.
That's why they call me:
Death
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Death. A teen girl, pitch black hair, black eyes, white skin. Her height is 5'8. People are scared of her, not just because of her strength but because of they way she kills.
She lived in this hell hole, where they take her to rooms. Examine. Fight. She knows she won't be able to entertain them for long. She decides to run.
Soul. Brown hair as mud, blue eyes as the sky. Hight 6'2. Tanned and toned body. Death's best friend in the hell hole they're in, he's as cold as she is. But shows a bit of sympathy. Well... More than her at least.
He's been there for her, ever since she entered this place of crap. They're the two most feared. As some people say, they're a perfect couple. Killing. Fighting. Cold hearted creatures. Also known as D and S.
Why? That's what your going to find out, joining this adventure with D and S.