I remember your eyes, the way that they looked--at me, through me, through everything...as if you saw something that would immortalize you as your body would inevitably begin to decay. At first I saw only the blank glassy stare assumed by those whose blood ran impure, but as I saw the crimson pouring freely before me, I realized that this could not possibly be so. I could not watch. I clasped your hand, willing, pleading you to stay, but I averted my eyes all the same. With a flash of silver I realized it was done. I could see your face wrought with pain and defeat, your illustrious hair that had always been a symbol of your undying defiance lay fanned limply around your delicate face. And now as the weight of impurities of my own blood stifles those memories, I remember your eyes.