she walks in beauty, like the night
though no one else knew.
There were advantages to being set aside. For she learned how to thrive in silence. And use it as a deadly weapon.
For she was now adept at using her jutsu without any sigh of sound, that a seduced enemy—momentarily frozen by the ethereal girl with long, silky, dark hair contrasted with pale skin, pale eyes, pale, monotonous personality, and clad in a kimono of striking red—will only feel the whisper of a palm barely touching his chest, before he bids goodbye to forever. That the occupants of the house would never know the sylph who came in and out of their home in the dead of the night, and with a slight pressing of her hand to their hearts, sent them down into the depths of interminable sleep with just an inconsequential push.
Her methods never hurt, she pondered. Nor did they cause much disturbance. For the awake, there was only the faint fluttering of the lashes before the eyes closed permanently. For the asleep, there wasn't much difference, except for an insignificant change in the movement of the air molecules in the place.
Sometimes she considered herself as euthanasia of sorts.
With everything finished, she swept out of silent destruction and stepped on the roof shingle, bound foot never making any sound, as was customary of her. She inclined her head to give a minute nod to the full moon, acknowledging Lady Selene. This was the only vanity she engaged in after a beautiful kill—bathing in the bright moonlight for a moment, enjoying the antithesis her black hair and bodysuit made to its light and her pale, beautiful face.
She continued her journey back to the land where she was underappreciated except by one—her leader and intended, but then that was a telling for another time—the only one who knew she was the Angel of Death, nary a wound on the body of her victims nor blood on their doors to signify she was there.