Venice Craven

Venice falls back against her haunches, kneeling behind the svelte young man. She remains still, so much so that given the fevor of worship about her, she is soon forgotten. And for her, she is pleased enough with this. As a slash of blood cuts across her right cheek, mirroring the scar that also adorns the skin, she starts to murmur, her words barely audible along side the pitch of the man in front of her. Few noticed her presence, and it seems even few noticed her disappearance. Though yet she remained. Droplets of blood soon staining both her skin and her golden outfit.

A long breath, shuddering as it passes her lips is released and for a moment her eyes close. Her fingers coming up to clutch at her face and her head dipping down to press against her thighs. Her fingers conceal the sight of the blood letting in front of her for only a few seconds before she forces her face to lift and forcing upon her hidden eyes upon the sight, herself almost as bloodied as the man before her.

It is only when he falls upon the weapon that she finally looks away once more, her shoulders shuddering as she presses her face into her thighs and cover her ears to the pleadings, to the last words uttered, to everything.

Even, when everyone has gone, she remains. The bloodied moon high in the sky, and her spell having long since worn off.