(Written for the prompt "laying an ancient/immortal being to rest".)
She never expected him to bleed.
Thinking back, she didn't know what she had expected. A spatter of whale oil? Some dark, unnamable liquid dripping out? For the body to simply fade to dust in her hands?
Not this, though. Not warm, red blood oozing over her blade and dripping onto her boots. Not a gurgling, gasping breath as he slumped into her arms, heavy and solid in this world of flickering spirits.
She laid him down gently on the black rock below.
After so many thousands of years in the Void, she hadn't expected him to be human still.