Flaying skin from flesh with such precision that light could pass through the layers, only a vampire could be so still with its fingers, and Valentine was no exception. Having captured one of the female sages, she'd trapped her in her room with her limbs tied to a chair. Her magic drained by sucking the blood through her wrist, she spat it out on her neck.
"Rancid and weak." The clicking of her scissors running across the skin of her arm echoed through the room alongside the muffled screams of the sage. Slicing through only the skin of her forearm with the region pressed flat on the chair still attached, Valentine opened the flayed skin like a box. Within it was the pulsing red flesh of the woman, clean as a model made of wax, with not an ounce of blood spilled from her flesh or the veins. "Hmm… I guess I haven't lost my edge after all."
