On the horizon, sapphire waves crashed against porcelain shores.
From her high perch Adagio watched the tidal motions. Still holding the dagger, she set the chalice aside.
She breathed in, to prepare for the pain.
The blade dug fire hot into the flesh of her arm. A line of shiny crimson appeared across the flawless skin, beads forming, weeping out.
She waited, as the blood dripped into her wine. Eventually the flow subsided.
Glaring at the sea, she brought the cup to her lips.