Part 3

Pity had never been an emotion that the god of love took well. He was too cruel to even entertain the thought of sympathy, or empathy, or whatever it was that made mortal beings so sentimental and allowed them to be hurt and offended so easily.

So it was beyond him as to comprehend the feeling welling up inside him when the monotonous repetition of his game with the human girl was altered merely by the sight of her wretched being.

Perhaps it was in the eyes; one pupil slightly more dilated than the other, testifying to her madness. If eyes were the windows to the soul, then those once vibrant orbs, now glowing only with madness, allowed him to look into an empty hollow where her spirit had once been.

If it wasn't in the eyes, then it was in her wasted form. Where she had been delicate but curvaceous, pleasing to the eye, her skin was sickly, thin and dry, as if she would crumble at any moment, like a moth come too close to the flame.

Like a mortal come too close to the power of a god.

Her lips were pale and stretched thin over her mouth as she smiled at him; sweet, childish, and utterly mad. Two bony arms reached out to him, and for once she was just as he'd claimed her to be; repulsive.

Yet when he finally acknowledged her descent into this repulsive state of being, that feeling surged through him again, and he didn't quite understand it.

"Come, come to me my love," she sing-songed, voice hoarse and black as a raven's. "I wish to dance amongst the stars, listening as they whisper their songs to me. Gently, gently comes the night. Will you join me?"

The god stared at her thin, pale hand, and found himself reaching out. Cold steel pressed against his thigh.

Her smile grew wider as she was drawn into his arms, and she was at peace.

Closing his eyes, Eros moved his hand down over her body – ribs, spine, hips, so very sharp they hurt him – and then back to his own, his hand grasping the ivory handle, sliding it upwards.

She gasped. Red stained her dress, and the bleeding of her heart was manifested.

"My love," she whispered, eyes fluttering closed as she pressed against him, and the blood drip, drip, dripped down and over their bodies. "It's so cold...

Am I falling in love with you again?"

Am I dying because of you again?

End