Glint

V ran his fingers up the length of the pummel, before grasping the solid weight in his palm and sinuously coaxing the blade out of its hiding place. He shivered in anticipation, gripping it tightly in his gloved hand. A slight flick of the wrist was all it took; one subtle twirl and they would lay down before him. He stroked the blade lovingly, softly, his fingertips roving over every peak and valley of the flawless metal. Tearing his gaze from the glinting, sharpened pillar in his hand, he surveyed the man approaching him. With one fluid thrust, the blade sunk home, cool steal warming quickly in its hot, damp sheath. V felt himself shudder, even as the fingerman convulsed and gasped his last breath. Sliding the knife from its flesh encasement, he observed how it seemed softer now, the shine dimmed by the congealing fluid that slowly dripped onto the pavement. He shook it gently, urging the excess blood off of his beloved. Drawing up the edge of his cloak, he thoroughly cleaned the remaining tarnish and slipped the blade back with its brothers. A lazy smile spread over his hidden lips, but the mask's mischievous grin conveyed his pleasure for all the world to see.