She killed it, she wrapped her hands around its throat and... slowly... killed it. She didn't even know what it was, that was the part that prevented him from feeling bad about it. A fail safe, like an air bag but much less reactionary... ''It'' was a gift, one of meaning, given to them by someone much wiser but he had disguised it well before letting her know what it really was... she was likely to consider it worthless, something that would only get in the way of something else. This was something he had chuckled at as he had the same traits and could have felt the same way perhaps, even, for a better purpose than she but he knew more of its depth and meaning and sought to investigate the matter after testing her aptitude by way of generosity... some would call him manipulative, kind of had a way for psychology and human nature like that...

She had paused slightly... recalling a film perhaps as she seemed to remember that she had thumbs, and nails, ones that would do well to aid in the process of strangulation, sinking them into its jugular, piercing the skin... she continued... probably easier if she had shot it but there's less emotion involved in shooting something, strangulation is an intense act, up close and personal, you can feel the life slipping away from your subject... shooting is far too convenient, especially for this.

The whole act wasn't so easy on the eye, a woman, a giver of life, pointlessly murdering something pure an innocent, she looked terrible, the blood now seeping down her hands, dripping onto the floor, the intense look of rage expressed across her face. She had done it before and would likely do it again and it was THIS that they didn't have in common, he noted, as its muscles finally let go of life, she had the ability to do something he'd never do, showing that it then wasn't true... she would likely murder something unearthly for blind sighted earthly goals, she wasn't worthy of it as a gift, perhaps neither of them were but at least he had seen it for what it truly was. People can and do often go against the law of nature, nothing is forgotten.

He walked over to it as she left, closing the door behind her, took out his guitar from its case and played it a soft song until he saw the colour in its plume flow back into its feathers and mane, now imbibed, it stood, looking stronger than before it circled him three times before taking to the skies... once again a phoenix flies because a phoenix can never die... He walked.

Frater Amor Vincit Omnia

Rough, could go over it and try to add more occult depth, iron out a few bits I don't like but its pretty much written on the go as in not revised.

Peace
.M.