Why?
It was the question that plagued her as she walked back to the manor, her lifesblood pooling across the streets as she walked, the peoples of Osrona seeing her broken form stumble her way there.
No one helped her, she did not want them to, so that suited her just fine.
Why?
It ate at her. Her father would have been disappointed in her utterly. He would have called her a fool. He would have said countless insults for making such a stupid decision.
Chank-clunk-chank-clunk---
Why did she feel so good?
She had spent the entirety of her fourteen years of life feeling nothing. Empty. Never had she empathized with another. Never had she felt something for another's suffering. Maids, peasants, she'd taken them from their families for her own greed.
Cut them open, pried their organs forth, used them as experiments for her own learning of Hemomancy.
Never- not once- had she felt a sliver of empathy for them. Tools, toys to advance her own agenda. To advance her own power. She'd hidden it all, she'd become adept at the art of murder just the same way she'd become a maestro at the violin by the age of five.
She'd learned medical science from her father when she was young, and rather than use it to save lives, she'd used it to take them.
Two inches to the jugular, a crucial artery that would likely end in death if not immediately suppressed. The femoral artery could be accessed easily enough. She went through the cardiovascular system in her head to distract herself from how each movement felt like utter agony.
How her body felt... real, for once in her life, instead of like a puppet moving through a dream.
Why was it that she protected Athena? Why was it that she took this agony, this torment, for another?
Never in her life before had she cared. The only ones she'd ever cared about were her father, mother, and sister- and that was simply because she'd been raised with the expectation of doing such.
Now, she had done something that no Pelleaux would have ever done without intending to gain.
She'd sacrificed of herself for a commoner. For a girl who had given her nothing, who had promised her nothing.
Her lifesblood poured upon the streets as she slipped unto the broadway going towards the manor- her manor.
It would never be Vincent ven Pelleaux's. She would die before that- but first she would kill him.
She would see his eyes dim, and his face freeze in a rictus- and she would luxuriate in it. Very little would bring her greater pleasure. Even vengeance against the demon who had done this to her would not taste as sweet.
The Ambrosia of the Stars could not touch on the pleasure that would erupt when she saw Vincent ven Pelleaux's life leave his eyes. The only thing better would be to see the remains of the Syndicate crushed similarly.
One day, she'd see it. She'd go to any depth, any length, any new universe to see it happen.
The Spider was not even a blip on her radar. This pain was temporary.
The blood of the Snake burned within her, and she would shed this broken skin and writhe anew. That was simply the law of nature. The Order of things.
As she entered the manor hall, beginning to unfasten the mantle of her cloak, she fell unto her face and- before she blissfully fell unconscious- she wondered.
Why do I feel like I am alive?