He walked onto the balcony, shedding the paraffin on his fingertips. He left her lying there, scantily clad in the cyan satin gown that matched her eyes perfectly–the eyes that were now permanently asleep. He accomplished the feat easily as his strength gradually increased as she struggled.
He would never vaunt his will, or his ability to remain calm while he watched her try to mumble “please, no”. It was tradition in his lineage, he was used to the throes of death. He was also blasé watching her head nod to the side as he squeezed the last breath out of her body.
Such an unfortunate tragedy he thought to himself. She should have done what he asked. How sad she chose not to. He walked back into the room, surveyed the area to make sure he left nothing behind.