[oh, sanson. sanson, sanson, sanson. both the good and twisted sides of marie have forgiven their executor, but not for the same reasons. marie proper knows charles-henri was just performing the job given to him when he severed her life's thread from the material plane. killing even a felon deserving of their punishment was never something sanson wanted to do. marie alter, on the other hand... saw the would be-assassin's heirloom blade as a release from the world that had come to hate her so. in the moment where his hand held her fate, she'd felt closer to him than even her husband—a wretched murderer to a wicked criminal.
her last words—"pardon me, monsieur"—take on a different meaning when they're coming from the alter's mouth.
her red eyes light up when it's sanson she encounters in the infirmary. like her pure self, marie has no sense of personal space for others; as soon he makes himself available to her, she reaches out and takes his arm in both of hers, clutching it like a lifeline.]
Perhaps... another kiss from your guillotine, mon cheri Sanson?
i... am sorry about her
her last words—"pardon me, monsieur"—take on a different meaning when they're coming from the alter's mouth.
her red eyes light up when it's sanson she encounters in the infirmary. like her pure self, marie has no sense of personal space for others; as soon he makes himself available to her, she reaches out and takes his arm in both of hers, clutching it like a lifeline.]
Perhaps... another kiss from your guillotine, mon cheri Sanson?
[she's awful.]