Notey Note

Dark little scene that just popped into my head today. It may just remain a one shot but if my readers want, I could write out a whole story.
Let me know what you think in the reviews.
Hope you enjoy it :)

Disclaimer: I own nothing but the story. . .and the hope that Loki will show up at my house and paint me like one of those French girls.

This was how it was supposed to be. This moment was the summation of every life experience. This was a piercing ray of light penetrating through the darkness that constantly enveloped him. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, willing his erratic passion laced mind to calm down and focus. He had to remember this, every sound, every subtle sensation, and every single detail. He was certain that even if he were to live another millennia, he would never again be able to recreate this moment. No one would.
Between the realms he had travelled. Over the centuries he had lived. He only desired one thing. One thing that was so difficult to achieve: the attainment of perfection.
It took him a long time to realize how wrong he was. It was not the attainment part that was difficult.
No, what was difficult was preserving it.
There is nothing more difficult than the inner struggle of the need for the bliss of satisfaction, versus the desire for ones muse to be kept intact. The artist and monster within him fought a constant battle. After months of back and forth, tonight, the monster had won.

He watched the blood drip from the gaping wound in her neck, over the emerald gem in her necklace, down into the luscious dip of her breasts. He had always preferred her in green, but now, seeing her like this, he had to admit that she was quite becoming in red too.
He would miss her. Her radiant smile and ebony hair glinting in the sunshine that streamed through the window in his studio. The way her curves seemed to be moulded as the perfect resting place for his hands.
He reminded himself that it had to be done. For the good of her virtue and the sake of his mental wellbeing, she had to die before she had the chance to ruin her perfect aura. So young, so innocent . . . she could never understand what the world which she so longed to explore would do to her.
The deep blush which usually tainted her cheeks whenever he touched her was gone now. The light slowly faded from the eyes that once held him spellbound by the sheer ferocity of life behind them. She would live forever in his paintings. Her beauty immortalized on the canvas.
If only she didn't have the spirit of a wanderer. If she had been content to stay in this snow covered village for the rest of her life the monster would have backed away and left them in peace for the rest of their days. But no, she was a free and fierce creature would not be tamed and so had to be ended.
He thought that she could never look as beautiful as the night when he first possessed her.
He was wrong. Her death meant one thing. That she could never be tainted by another. His marks upon her body would never be removed, the path he had forged across her mind, her psyche, her soul; would remain forever. Forever dead. Forever his. Forever perfect.
He pushed the dagger deeper into her heart and smiled as his magic surged around him.
This was what success felt like.