She stands at a stiff parade-rest the entire time; feet squared, arms clasped behind her back, gaze steady— she makes no comment, does not breathe, does not seem even to notice it when the spectacle escalates further and further. Those who know her well, or who could tear their gaze away from the gore to watch her closely, might see the ghost of a grimace, a displeased sneer, but she is rightly proud of her poker face. It has always served her well.
"It's not how I'd have done it," She replies, grim and stern, as she thinks the occasion mandates. There are creases ironed into her pants, for fuck's sake, "But what's done is done."
And thank what gods there are, for that. Whatever the method, it's the outcome that's relevant here, and the outcome is that she's dead. Good riddance, indeed.
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She stands at a stiff parade-rest the entire time; feet squared, arms clasped behind her back, gaze steady— she makes no comment, does not breathe, does not seem even to notice it when the spectacle escalates further and further. Those who know her well, or who could tear their gaze away from the gore to watch her closely, might see the ghost of a grimace, a displeased sneer, but she is rightly proud of her poker face. It has always served her well.
"It's not how I'd have done it," She replies, grim and stern, as she thinks the occasion mandates. There are creases ironed into her pants, for fuck's sake, "But what's done is done."
And thank what gods there are, for that. Whatever the method, it's the outcome that's relevant here, and the outcome is that she's dead. Good riddance, indeed.