Motivation was good. Probably -- because here he might have been better served by simply allowing himself to pass out from oxygen deprivation. The hand in his mouth had grabbed onto his jaw, now, and was using it to tug the rest of the limb out of his throat. One excruciating inch, then another jerked forward, and then with what seemed like a burst of strength an arm tore forward to the elbow. It dangled for just a second, then reached up and grabbed onto the hair at the top of his head.

Where it commenced pulling, just like the other arm, as if trying to pull something out -- and even as it jerked and twitched as if succeeding, no visible damage could be seen on Setsuna's body. When Feldt slashed out she caught another patch of dead flesh, caused another minute ooze of rotted blood, but the intruder didn't stop.

And slowly, slowly but surely, something was emerging, close to where the first hand had appeared -- a dark substance that soon became clear was hair sprouted out from amongst Setsuna's, slithering outwards like some grotesque fountain. With a jerk, another fall of it appeared, and then the top of something, twitching a little as if in exertion. Both hands continued pulling, tugging, and another quick convulsion of movement revealed the top of a head: just enough to see a pair of eyes peering out amongst hair.

A blank stare, unknowing and uncaring for anything but murder. The death-rattle filled the air again.