Work Text
First there was a void, an emptiness. You didn't mind it, you didn't even mind dying. (Much.) Nothing was good, or bad, everything was just a never-ending purgatory of okay. But then, he had filled you with blood from his own veins, and given you physical form, a physical form that could feel pain--but more importantly deal it outwards.
He was the first one you punished, and now you sought out the one who had murdered you in the first place.
Soon enough, she'd get exactly what she deserved.
It really did feel so good to feel things again.
