you didn't ask for assassination. you asked for destruction, and destruction takes time. / @tempusde
PATIENCE IS A VIRTUE, and she's never been good at those. dark eyes focus on the other's gaze, while shadows cling to her form, branching out as though they are hungry and seeking. pressing closer, impatience can be read behind her eyes, but it's sated. sated, simply, for the only one who has stolen her heart.
hands raise, elongated and skeletal, and through the dark haze of the forest around them -- meeting spots that they always seem to find, best away from prying eyes -- she finds agatha's jaw, stroking and settling in a touch that's far too gentle. ( before her, she hadn't even known that she could be gentle in this form. all she had done was take, take, take, never give. it had been foreign to her at first, but after some time became second nature, as true as the form itself. )
"good girl," she replies, her voice as normal as its always been. death leans down and over, the edges of her skeletal face brushing against agatha's soft, oh-so-human cheek. she wants to drown in it, become part of her, as though she is her very bones. her voice drops in tone, to a whisper. "i know you'll deliver." head tilts away, and she takes a deep breath, nonexistent lungs expanding at the possibility of fresh destruction.
eyes meet agatha's again, and another thing she didn't know she could feel in this form rears its head again. love. death's grin is wicked, possessive, edging on the edge of affection. if death is the only thing that agatha harkness always escapes, it is also the only thing that follows her, tracking her trail of bodies wherever it may lead. "the more bodies, the better."