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Yang had never been one for death, it was always so devastating, lonely, just another way for people to leave you; but seeing Blake, eyes narrowed, her fingers curled around Gambol Shroud and shoulders heaving with each intake of air; she was dangerous, enticing. She leapt from one enemy to the next with such gracefulness, body fluid in her actions, absolute with her intent that Yang couldn’t stop herself from staring, couldn’t halt the shallow inhale that burned her lungs and made her heart tremble.
Blake was death incarnate and maybe, if this was how it would happen, staring into those golden eyes, Yang doesn’t think she would mind dying.
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AWWWW