Any small thing can in turn be deadly to man. Even everyday things such as tripping on an escalator, stepping on the acceleration a bit too firm, biting down on your tongue so hard it bleeds. A beautiful woman, lean and tall, may be the most desirable– but one slight misstep on the catwalk may lead to her demise. Subtle, yes, but effective, don’t you think?

They say beauty is only skin-deep, but how deep, exactly? A human heart may be beautiful to a physician, the skeletal system may be beautiful to a mannequin, and the nervous system may be beautiful to a quadriplegic. Is there no straight answer? Must one dig, and dig, and dig before exposing the most idealistic totem of human beauty?

If one were to take this expression to heart, would it lead to more naïveté? Would one venture to say that integrity is only skin-deep? Would the valor of a soldier be disregarded as the fragile mask of a coward, quivering with unease? How could one so blindly misjudge another through senseless idioms? Oh, the absurdity of mankind never ceases to amaze.

Bone structure is a beautiful concept – difficult to obtain, yes, but appealing to the eye. Broad shoulders, flat stomach, curved hips, even the subtle detail of protruding cheekbones, sharp jaw, and thin nose; all of which one may be born with. Silky hair to cascade across one’s face, maybe ringlets of glossy curl to outline the slender face of a young woman, are much sought after. But once acquired, might that be the cause of one’s death? Could beauty lead to an unpleasant demise? Envy is, after all, a terrible thing.

Out of all of the Sins, Envy was surely the most displeased. The emaciated figure of half-human stood against the wall, eyeing the undressed body before her through the glass. A flickering light allowed her the dim indication of what stood there, mocking her, following her eyes as she traced the outline up and down. The skin was tainted green, but only faintly – eyes a hollow black amidst a narrow face. Ink-black wispy hair fell short, almost a messy pageboy style, framing the brow; muddling further as a thin, lime-tainted hand rose to stroke through it.

Pale olive lips pursed as long, tapered fingers ran down her stomach; the body emitted cool air, chilling the hand that dared touch. Exhaling softly, she slid down to the floor, curling inwards and hugging her bare legs to her chest, arms crossed. Her cheek bruised against her knees as she relaxed her jaw muscles to the point of gaping, fingers carelessly skimming her ankles.

Her teeth glimmered in the weak light, flecks of white appearing subtly, though the exteriors remained generally a musty off-white, stained with regurgitated acids. The tips were finely pointed, jagged almost, and though she had an overabundance of these petite-like razors, it stood out no more than any other part of her anatomy.

It had been months, possibly years, since she’d seen her fellow Sins. She’d been doing her best to avoid them. They had a way to always bring her to a raging monster when they met up – those damned beings that they were. Envy had been good to stay home recently, but the days had grown long, lonely. She yearned for more. She craved esteem, fame, wealth, charisma. She desired beauty, looks, normality - anything to set her above the rest. But was that such a crime?

The woman screeched piercingly, irritably, as a crow pecked meticulously at the window. Golden radiance poured into the half-dead room, dust gleaming with morning. The ragged curtains stood defenseless against the rising sun, daylight penetrating through the moth-eaten cloth. Envy pulled herself from the soothing tile, dragging her skeletal being to full-height as she stumbled out of the bathroom. Subdued lungs suddenly ached for fresh air as she began to wheeze.

She wrapped herself tightly in a long, black cloth – resembling a dress, almost, or a cloak, with a falling hood to mask her eyes. Envy hated when people stared at her; it merely reminded her of the violent monster she represented. Stepping into flats, and with a pocketed key, the woman exited through the door, footsteps a dragging, sweeping motion; a breathing carcass. The light dilated her pupils as she shooed away the crow that had disturbed her earlier. Mornings were always tedious.