She bit down on her lip until she tasted copper, but she welcomed the flow of blood. At least it told her that she was still alive. Vader may have been breathing, he may have been able to see and walk from place to place, but his existence couldn't be called living. His body was lump of flesh welded to durasteel, and his heart, if he could be said to have one at all was a jagged, unyielding thing of rough stone that sliced open any hand that dared to reach for it. That hand would soon be her brother's.
