Vincent lays a hand over his chest, feels the drying blood on his torn clothes, and smiles when he sees the Will of the Abyss walking ever so daintily towards him, his own scissors in her small, cruel hands.
He won't tell her, finding out was part of his victory. To see her face after she realized that the game had already been won, that was a quaint thought.
"Vincent, are we done playing already?"
Brother should be with that Vessalius boy now. Yamane never lost his way, especially not in the Tea Garden.
Snip, snip, snip.
If he tries hard enough, he may see a dream.
For now, he bites his tongue to keep from screaming as the Will held his scissors high and prepared to claim her prize.
.
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.
.
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fin
Author's Notes: One day, Alyss and Vincent will duel, and someone will die. One day, sufficient thrust will make pigs fly. This is a hint.