AN: A kind of recycled/spruced up short fic I originally wrote away back in 2013, playing on the personification of "Death" in Kuroshitsuji the musical 2: The Most Beautiful Death in the World.
Death was the soprano in the wind and chiffon on skin.
She was manipulative and delicate, and she knew if he used her it was the only way to save his wretched remains. Perhaps that's why she brought her embrace on his victims quietly and didn't complain that they were never laid on vermilion carpets. She chastely danced in his shadow as he avoided her eyes. She'd entice him one day. That unspoken contract was all it took- as long as he could drag her arms from gripping Alan's body every time she flirted with the innocent. But her stain spread. If only blood was coarse enough to scour it away; forestall the damage, it was the method he accepted with weariness in his eyes, fists clenched, soul charred; bleeding.
So when Eric was taken and clasped in his merchant's lap, she pirouetted with vengeance, mockery in her eyes. Nails gripping in his hair, he was almost grateful through bitter tears of grief at his realised foolery when she swept her lips over his in a carnal demise. She cherished her artwork in her wake as she swooped into the embrace of a demon, felled and sunk into slumber as he defied his own purpose.
Death was graceful ebony, as she chimed with pointed toes, careful arms and floating on whims.
She laughed with still shoulders, smiled with a porcelain face, and whispered love in the brushing of souls.