Snippet #1207461

The blood spattered and some stained her hair, this criminal did not deserve to live, "It is your misfortune to be fated to die this day. I extend to you an invititation to your death. No is not an answer I will accept. Shinde kudasi." The cinematic record shown to her was gruesome, but did not phase her in the least. She was no shinigami-in-training, she had seen this before, the depths of human and demon depravity alike. All fated to die at some time. Worthless beings, simply fodder for higher life, for those whose jobs were to take their lives.

Solange Epitymbria, the Solemn One of the Tombs, looked at the blood on her swords in delight. One of the only times where emotion can be spotted on her features. The female shinigami carefully, almost reverently, wiped the blood off on her sash, which was the dark red-brown color of dried blood, leaving a scarlet trail along the fabric- soon to blend in. Solange knelt down and struck the hilts of each sword on the ground, elongating the wood grips a foot each. She connected the now-clean weapon so that it formed a double-bladed staff, her Scythe if you will.

"Clarence Walters. Check." Solange mumbled to herself, "I am done for the day, so I think that I'll visit a coffee shop. Perhaps that new one on the corner of Basil Street, they have the best scones..." Solange trailed off thinking of the delicious drinks and delectable foods, leisurely but gracefully gliding along the empty streets of London. Slowly transitioning into the human realm, becoming tangible and visible to the trash, the humans.