It cuts clean through, just as Alistair said, and their head rolls off the end of the hatchet to the ground, and settles between their bloody legs. The rest of their body slumps back against the tree as the hatchet stays fully embedded in the tree.

You breathe heavily as your heart races in your chest from the adrenaline, your eyes are wide, and your pupils dilated. You watch as a steady flowing cascade of blood gushes out from their neck and drenching the rest of their body below. Alistair stares at your face as you’re entranced by the sight of your crimes. “What?” You pant, feeling his eyes on you, but keeping yours on the corpse… the fresh one that is. But he doesn’t answer. He reaches out and turns your chin to him and his features portray a deep adoration. Slowly, he steps in close, cups your blood splattered cheek, pulls his arm around to the small of your back. “I love you more than murder, my dear.

He whispers and kisses you deeply. You take a moment to process but then close your eyes and lean into the kiss, finally openly accepting your love for him and not shying away from it. You coil your arms around his waist as he moves his hand from your cheek to the back of your head, smearing streaks of blood across your face as he does. It feels like he begins to levitate. With his cloak billowing in a ghostly wind, he dips you perfectly and it feels like the world falls away and you could live or die in this moment forever with him. He parts from you, and you gaze into his glittering golden eyes for just a moment more while he slowly floats back down. "You are more than I could've ever wanted out of life. It's just unfortunate it had to be after my demise." Alistair says, holding you close to him. "We need to clean this up. Before a real highway robber finds us." You say, going back to your bag and grabbing the oil flask and lighter. You walk back to the decapitated cadaver of Florence Huet, take off your cloak, and lay it over their head. You pour out the flask over it, dropping the flask on it when it's drained. You grab your lighter but remember a very crucial detail. You turn to Alistair and take the dagger from your boot, "Stab me."

You say handing the hilt to Alistair. "I beg your pardon?" He looks at you confused but intrigued at you. "I need to look like I've been a victim of highway robbery. Don't pierce anywhere vital though, I still need to ride back to the mansion." You say, and Alistair takes your dagger in hand with a mischievous grin. "Ah, understood." He says, and swiftly slices a thin but noticeable cut across your cheek. You hiss and hold your hand up to the cut. "I said stab me, not give me cuts!" You exclaim. "There needs to be signs of struggle." He says, and before you can retort he swipes your forearm. You thrash your head back. "Stop it." You grit your teeth. "If it doesn't look like you fought back then they won't believe that you got out alive." He says smiling wider and slices the back of your hand. "Enough!" You yell and try to get the dagger from Alistair. But as you step forward to take it, he buries the blade in your thigh. You still from the sudden stinging pain and your anger fizzles away into shock. "Don't worry, it only looks bad."

He says, watching your face as he twists the blade so enough blood seeps out to soak your clothes. You cry out and grasp his shoulder to keep upright. He grins at the pained expression on your face and seems satisfied for now. "There, all bloodied up just as you wished. Unless you believe this isn't enough?" He asks, still keeping pressure on the dagger. "I think anymore, and William would faint." You whimper. Alistair pulls out the dagger swiftly and you wretch in pain. "Keep pressure on it so you don't bleed anymore, or you'll be the one fainting." He says, and you take a spare handkerchief and cup your hand over the wound.

You turn back to your handy work with your lighter, spark it, and set the oil covered cadaver aflame. You limp back to your horse and struggle to mount your steed. "Need a hand?" Alistair asks mischievously. "If I can't mount my horse, they won't believe that I got away on my own." You say, and finally get atop your saddle. "There, now I need you to be completely dematerialized until I'm fully alone again." You say keeping pressure on your still gushing wound in your leg. "Yes, yes, I know." He huffs and dematerializes. You spur your horse into a full gallop with your good leg. For the rest of the ride, you think about how your performance will play out with William and Madame Leota as your audience.