Deadly Aesthetics

O-ren Ishii knew quite a bit about the fine art of a taunt. One could call her a connoisseur, perhaps even an artist. Being of such a diverse background, Half-Chinese, Half-Japanese American as well as a woman was a breeding ground for snide remarks in at least three languages. She had heard about everything. Long ago O-ren became immune to nearly all verbal abuse. Most were ridiculous and unfounded, unworthy of the fuss.

Actions where what mattered anyway, actions spoke louder than words. Her favorite actions involved removing limbs from a torso and watching poetry in motion. The delicate arcs of red thicken and splay. The horror of blood spilt was yet another thing that was not to be fussed over. Not for an assassin and most certainly not for a Deadly Viper. For a child it might be acceptable to be frightened of the slight of warm and bright blood. Might.

O-ren had begun to think that she never was a child. It was a distant dream. She wasn't born. She had no infancy. No family. She just sprung into existence. Greek Mythology had all sorts of births framed by gore and another's end. Athena came to be when Zeus's head was split open with an ax, her own mother devoured by the god. Aphrodite emerged from sea foam and the fallen corpse of Kronos.

It was only logical to believe that when one path of life was torn from her small body that she had truly begun to live. Life, that was definitely something that she could appreciate along with death. Both of them were treasures, moving works of art.

Beatrix Kiddo, she is still life, Sleeping Beauty early into her three hundred year slumber. Many, O-ren included, wish for her to remain that way. This silence is becoming. Still life is something smooth and sleek. It is a luxury to walk the tight rope between life and death in sleep. Darkness was a beauty that Cottonmouth rarely indulged in.

For now, she loved the red, red blood on her blade, her fingertips warm and sticky full of life.

It was beautiful.