demolition woman.

          eyes flooded their feral shade of black, isolde curled her skeletal digits around the organ while enjoying the feeling of it thumping into her palm. it would have seemed eager --

         gaze flashed up to meet the victim of the evening's face while the color began to drain from it. jaw completely slacked out, and all she could do was smirk. it wouldn't have taken much to dislodge his heart from within his chest. just a swift yank, with such force that it splintered his chest cavity and now sat comfortably in her hand.

she's not alone.                 (the rats are scurrying around and lapping up the blood while it collects and pools, yellow teeth nibbling the young man's body while it slumped.) she's not alone.                (there's an elder not too far from her and he's equally dangerous but he's absolutely breathtaking, and all she wants to do is run her fingers over his skin to stain him with the sin she had just committed.) she's not alone.               (the man is dead, the rats are scuttling and she's still holding the heart but this time, she's looking at him.)

mostly because, isolde is incredibly greedy and needs to have a mask for every aspect of her existence, ngl. but also because !! her vessels are more her security blankets. she's terribly attached to them, and to her; each new vessel is sort of like a fresh start whenever she meets someone.