Darkly painted lips part to reply, but she obeys the deman for silence, both from her Mistress' lips, and the one seen in those manic blue eyes. A curt nod, a tear wells, and slips down an alabaster cheek. She dares not wipe it away, fearing a smudge in carefully applied makeup.

Misery listens intently, and forces herself to honestly survey her feelings on Valentine, this place, and their relationship. Valentine had been a kind, caring, and affectionate Mistress. Misery was not used to much kindness, and had found the novelty was wearing off.

She sighed heavily, looked out towards the river, and listened as she thought she heard knocking on the Gallery door. She ignored it, knowing Valentine had heard it and was obviously planning on ignoring it as well.

Misery spoke softly, a whisper. "I love you, Valentine. You have been so kind to me, but you are right. I miss the pureness of seduction, of pain, of doing anything to please. You never do ask much of me. I have grown soft..."

Valentine's hands were hard, like marble, and just as cold. She had grown used to the coldness of her Mistress' vampiric touch, and had found herself craving it. The feedings were what she would miss most of all; sharing her essence as well as blood. But her Mistress was right, it was time to go.

Throwing herself into Valentine's arms, she hugged her tightly and cried into the coolness of her neck, smelling that scent of the vampire. She slowed her tears, clung for a moment more, and then turned to go.

"I'll go pack. I don't know where to go from here, but I think I will be okay. I am stronger now that I have been with you, and I do miss the wickedness of a stern Mistress or Master."