[ It's not the key she should, ironically, be concerned with. It's one of his weapons, but it's a ruse. This is shown best by how he allows it to slide over his wrist when he forcefully takes hold of her other shoulder with that hand, and bites into her opposite one abruptly, tearing away a huge part of her. It's not pretty. He might look like a Rabbit, but he's a demon, and he eats more like a shark... even if she's just a soul, it probably still hurts quite a bit, feeling her essence torn from her like that, the very fabric of who she is and some of her with it.
It could be something big or small. A sensation, some memories, an ability. After all, it's only one bite he's taken. That's what having your soul consumed will do. Eventually, there won't be enough left to remember who you were or see or feel or think and all that'll be left is to be fixed and wait to be pieced back together, to return to the cycle. ... Usually, anyway. Here, all she can hope is Death will pick up the pieces for her. As it is, he'll pull back from her, the torn shreds of some kind of brightness oozing from his mouth. He doesn't spend very long chewing it before he swallows, either. .... Tasting her confirms his suspicions. She's not normal.
A warped smile spreads on his face; he can't help it. He'll persist. He won't die. He won't. He won't cease to be. He refuses to stop existing. ]
... Still too sweet. You're undercooked. You really are adamant about that hope of yours. That's just naive.
no subject
It could be something big or small. A sensation, some memories, an ability. After all, it's only one bite he's taken. That's what having your soul consumed will do. Eventually, there won't be enough left to remember who you were or see or feel or think and all that'll be left is to be fixed and wait to be pieced back together, to return to the cycle. ... Usually, anyway. Here, all she can hope is Death will pick up the pieces for her. As it is, he'll pull back from her, the torn shreds of some kind of brightness oozing from his mouth. He doesn't spend very long chewing it before he swallows, either. .... Tasting her confirms his suspicions. She's not normal.
A warped smile spreads on his face; he can't help it. He'll persist. He won't die. He won't. He won't cease to be. He refuses to stop existing. ]
... Still too sweet. You're undercooked. You really are adamant about that hope of yours. That's just naive.