Steady as he was, Hephaestus shifted uncomfortably as the rabbit continued to struggle. Sitting next to Fiamette had done nothing to truly explain things, and it's agonized screams were simply getting more desperate. It was actually... really horrible. Fiamette's explanation made no sense to him. He had no concept of the reaper as a personification of death - he was far too literal for metaphor. He grasped only the definition of the word, a harvester, but he did not see what she did as a harvest. "I don't understand," he admitted in a rumble. "Why not just kill it cleanly? It's suffering."
