I split their screams, innards running down fronts. Red spilling across perfect canvases. I hold my fingers gleaming with their blood up to their fading light, before licking it from those fingers tips, it tasting divine.
I grab hold of wings, and they're real, feeling the soft between my clenched fists.
And I can't help but faintly smile.
Real wings for artificial beings.
I entwine my fingers, digging deep, grabbing hold before wrenching, always leaving ugly stubs of bone.
Their screams split the silence, and it's something ugly. Inhuman, nothing angelic about their noise.
Some grin up at me.
Others cry blood, begging, and offering things not theirs. Things I could never need, and will never want.
And I stand there, staring like a fool.
Feeling the unconscious notion to cock my head.
Because it's almost too unreal.
Creatures like these… creatures like me, and the others standing in shadows of such darkened ignorance, put together in a single place to coexist.
It's almost unreal.
Expressions lost, I raise my hands over my head, metal connecting with sky, glinting death.
The cuts are clean, the contaminated light staying dead, their life leaving delicious pools of paradise at my feet.