paladin problems [freyja]

[Nishaa]

Micah was dead.
Every was dead.

Wherever she seemed to go people died around her - that was the trade she was in, death. Yes, that was it. It didn’t matter and each time someone close to her her mind unravelled a little more. That wall that she kept up for so long was coming down brick by brick. Who knew. Marriage life was bliss, Nishaa was happy and she loved to be happy. It was a strange feeling that always kept her fuzzy down in the stomach area. Sometimes she could be seen leaving the hotel with a grin on her face. She got lucky most nights too. Keeping her guttural feral side at bay also.

She had been back from the realms for a few days now, and she still couldn’t get her mind away from how lonely and cold it must be down there for those two. She felt sorry for them - she hadn’t even had time to visit Velveteen. The things she had read over the Crownet had been worrying. The Matriarch of the Andras line had been insane.

I N S A N E.

The poor woman believed Micah to be very much alive. She had him holed up somewhere, she assumed it was the Eyrie. It had to be. She thought about taking the elevator to the fourth floor and then kicking down the door to try and get through to her but it was always Micah that didn’t mind her intrusions on the fourth floor, and with him being dead and all she assumed Velveteen wouldn’t take too kindly to it and may potentially try to kill her too, like she killed Every.

The best way to get this **** off her mind was to go to the raid that had been going for a day or so now. It was a paladin one, a bunch of paladins had escaped the sewers and holed themselves up in a building spreading across five floors. Their boss was on the top floor. She wanted to try and reach him. It seemed only fitting, that she nabbed that shiny relic for herself.

Within moments she managed to get herself there. God it was great being a vampire. All those quirky little powers at your disposal. With a sigh she began to attack the foot soldiers on the first floor, they were the easier cronies. One of these bastards had what she was looking for. A key, to be exact.

After half an hour of fighting her way through these assholes she still hadn’t found what she was looking for, but she had notice a few other vampires make their way over to this building - each going for a shot of the relic. In the corner of her eye she did see a female fending off a hunter. He was obviously overpowering her - and pushing her towards the window. She wasn’t going to have that, but as she took a closer look she saw a key dangling from his belt. She made her way over to the duo that were dancing and pulled her gun up and took one, precisely aimed shot and fired.

The bullet embedded itself within his skull and blood caked her face. She grinned, as her tongue escaped the confines of her mouth - fangs clearly on display, they never went away as she lapped at the blood that were near her lips. She looked down at the female.

“If you can’t kill them, then why the **** are you here. You’re going to get yourself ******* killed.”

She bent down to pluck the key from his belt.

“Idiot.”

[Freyja]

Backpedal. Backpedal.
Block.
Parry.
Watch out for the slash. Here it comes.
STEP AWAY!
He’s too fast. Too strong.
What’s wrong with me? Has it really been so long since I’ve done this?
This used to be so…
…easy.

Weakly, she lifted her trembling arm to block another blow from the powerful hunter, his longsword slashing down in a broad, heavy blow aimed for the crook of her neck. Her knife found the steel of his blade with a sharp clang of blade striking blade, the longsword deflected away from the fatal strike and glancing off her bare shoulder. Bright blood splashed against the stone floor and she grunted in pain.

This was hardly her first raid on a hunter stronghold. She had a certain dislike for the brutal little bastards, taking a personal vendetta against them after the night one of them had broken into her apartment to try and assassinate her, only to make off with one of her legs.

Her ******* leg.

Who the **** does that ****?

Ever since, the minute she heard about a safe house for the filthy animals, she fell on it like a woman crazed, slashing her way through bodies until the entire place was cleaned out, blood washing the floors, caking her skin and absolutely destroying her clothes.

So why, when she knew so well that she could crush the peons they left to guard the front door without struggle or effort of any kind, was this minion, this… pawn pushing her back so hard? Each blow felt like the strike of a hammer, her thin arms trembling with effort as she stepped back, the tip of his weapon whistling past her nose close enough to feel the breath of air as it sliced through her defense. It caught the fabric of her sequined top, the tip grazing through the fabric to cleave the flesh of her abdomen.

Bright blood stained the gold cloth, the shimmering sequins reflecting the light with a taint of red as she hissed in pain, sucking in a breath and biting down on her thin lip. This ******** was going to pay. She lunged forward, thrusting her blade at the man’s throat. He batted her wrist away with a lazy swipe, easily deflecting her offensive before jabbing her jaw with the pommel of his longsword. A sharp crack filled her ears and the world dimmed for a brief moment. Everything began to swim in her vision as her knees threatened to buckle, pale eyes watching the man’s sword arm rise for a final blow, her knife falling to the floor with a clatter.

What the actual ****? I LOST?

She closed her eyes tightly, waiting for the strike that would end her, and winced when she heard the gunshot so close to her face.

Her eyes shot open as blood splashed across her lightly freckled face, just in time to see the hunter crumple to the floor in a heap of boneless flesh.

Her savior, if you could call her that, was a tall, statuesque woman, though much shorter than Freyja. Her dark hair framed a handsome face, her sharp eyes appraising the beaten woman disapprovingly. Her sharp words made the Allurist frown as her vision cleared and her legs stopped wobbling. At the bristling of the woman, she straightened her spine, towering over the Necromancer. “ I can kill these meat bags just fine. I’m just… off my game tonight.” she snapped back, giving a quiet sniff as she leaned down to pick her knife out of the floor. She’d let herself be disarmed, and what was worse, someone was watching. She cursed beneath her breath.

Idiot.

No word would have better suited her just then.

She frowned at the stone floor as her manicured hand reached for the weapon, plucking it carefully from the floor and rising, slowly but gracefully, back to her height. “ I haven’t seen a stronghold in a while. I guess I’m a little rusty.” She said sheepishly, her empty hand rising to rub at the back of her neck with a nervous laugh.

“ Thanks for the help though. You probably just saved my ***.” She swallowed the urge to smack the woman for her insult, and replaced her ire with a smile. Besides. She did make herself look quite foolish. She supposed she deserved what she was given. Just this once. “ I’m Freyja. Freyja Nørgård. I’m glad you were here, Miss…?”

She smiled, then, and lifted a fine brow. She didn’t know the woman from Eve, but she had saved her. She was impressed, to speak plainly. The ease with which she dispatched the footsoldier was admirable. Inspiring. She was curious, and it showed in those sparkling blue eyes as they slowly began to clear from the blow to her head.

[Nishaa]

Off your game? Nishaa snorted. Granted this woman was much taller than her but there was something about her. She just couldn’t put her finger on it and she didn’t like it. If she didn’t know how to kill a hunter then why the **** be here? She shook her head in disapproval. Eyeballing this woman with a curious stare. You don’t come to a raid if you're off your game sweetheart, thats how you lose. Instead Nishaa was a lot more blunter.

“Of course you can babe.” She said, her voice almost like silk as it caressed the other woman in front of her. “If you know you're off your game. Go home.” She said. “Come back when you have your big boy panties on” Nishaa could be a ***** 99% of the time. Especially with those who were outside of her immediate family, that being Andras or Tytonidae. Usually to anyone else she flipped them the bird - she didn’t see them as friends or anything of the like. It was hard work to find someone who had the same thought patterns as yourself. Something Nishaa knew she would never find in someone.

Rusty? Nishaa laughed. Like, full on belly laughed.

“There are hunters in the sewers you don't need to find a stronghold just to kill them - that's just you choosing not to hone your skills.” The key to the next floor dangled in between her fingers. She could get to the next floor and take on the sorcerers. They were always a barrel of laughs and lord did she need one. Yet, this chick was still here - still standing in front of her and giving her lip. Nishaa didn’t like being back chatted to, but sometimes it worked and made her respect them a little more. It was obvious this woman didn’t know who she was. That was fine. She had just assumed anyone who was in Tytonidae had a notorious reputation, most vampires knew them. So to come across someone who didn’t know her was actually quite refreshing.

She introduced herself then. Freyja. What an usual name, and without hesitation she offered her own. “Nishaa.” She said. “Nishaa Andras.” She said. Did she offer her her hand, she didn’t. It would be weird if she didn't if the other had, but neither had outstretched their hands so she assumed she was safe for now.

She turned her dark hues towards another hunter that was stumbling their way. He was loading his gun as Nishaa looked at her own - empty clip. She withdrew a small box of ammo from her satchel and began to load her own gun in return.

“You going to kill him?” She said. “I already got the key -- and i’m busy loading my gun.” The hunter looked a little clumsy, like he was new to this - so he should be alright to easily dispatch but considering how Freyja was when she saw her. Nishaa doubted this would be easy for her.

[Freyja]

She could feel the phantom heat creeping up her neck at this… woman’s words. She could almost feel her ears burn with irritation. Her icy blue stare flared to life at the shorter woman’s taunts and her spine went rigid, her towering height brought to its full extent, her fatigue completely forgotten in the heat of her shame. She tossed her head, flipping her neatly braided hair over her shoulder as she flipped her knife in her hand with the deftness of an expert.

“ I said…” she snapped, whipping around in an instant and grabbing the rail of the hunter’s assault rifle in the same instant that the heavy firearm barked, belching a gout of flame nearly a foot from the muzzle of its barrel, lighting the darkness around them as she yanked the man forward, nearly pulling the man from his feet as he flew into her hard frame. She knelt as he was inches from contact, and threw the heel of her palm into his chin with incredible force.

A sharp snap filled the air as the blow finally met resistance. Blood erupted from the man’s mouth as his tongue was severed in half, the lump of muscle hitting the floor with a wet splat. Shortly following was the tell-tale tinkling of enamel shards, the shattered teeth littering the floor as the human fell to his knees with a muffled wail. The tall blonde twisted the weapon in his arm as his fingers closed in a fist, the firearm barking wildly as he shot into the walls, each bullet hitting the wood with a hard thunk thunk thunk, until his arm was twisted behind his back. The contorted joint gave a gut-wrenching rip sound and the man’s wild eyes pleaded for mercy as his hand went limp, relinquishing his rifle.

Freyja pulled it back, and rammed the butt of the gun into his face, breaking his nose with a loud snap of cartilage. One arm hanging limply at his side, his features a bloody and broken pulp as he pleaded nonsensically for his life, blood flowing freely from his mouth from his severed tongue as she flipped the weapon, jamming the barrel into his mouth. “ …that I could handle these ******* meatbags.”

She pulled the trigger.

The blast was muffled by the man’s mouth as the high impact round caused his skull to rip itself in half. Everything above the man’s lower lip was obliterated, sending a shower of blood and brain through the air in a wet, meaty mist. Shards of bone fell through the air like a gory hail as she tossed the gun down on the man’s twisted corpse. Blood dripped from her face, coated her entire front as she flipped her braid over her shoulder again and leaned down to rip the key from the man’s belt, taking her time to search the pockets of his coat for ammo, and coming up empty.

She heaved a sigh, and relented, slowly standing. Tongue sliding across her lips, she tasted the man’s blood and made a face. She was never as pleased with the men. She took the key and tucked it neatly into the baby blue fabric of her sports bra, eyes moving to the shorter, dark-haired woman as she tucked her knife into the waist of her tight black yoga pants, just at the small of her back. “ I said I was rusty. Not incompetent.” she said confidently, sure that her brutal dispatch of the less impressive footsoldier was more than proof positive that she wasn’t helpless.

She placed her hands on bare hips and flashed the woman a bright smile, tapping a blue nail against her hip bone. She couldn’t help herself. This woman was a complete stranger, but her criticism, her blatant derision had wakened the beast inside of the usually placid Dane. She lived for praise; approval was the drug she craved most. “ Don’t you agree?” She tipped her head at the question, her Scandinavian accent thickening with her premature glee. It was very clear that she was pleased with herself, the smug grin on her glossy lips all the evidence in the world.

There. That should shut her up.

[Nishaa]

She could hear the sudden change in the woman’s tone of voice and found herself raising an eyebrow. Woman had spunk that was for sure. She began to load her own gun and aimed it - obviously at the paladin that was making it’s way over to them and she shot it dead. She spouted her mouth again about how she could handle those meatbags and found herself scoffing. This ***** was trying to big herself up.

“Of course you can, cupcake.” She said with a roll of her eyes. “Which is why I saved your *** from being thrown out of a window - or better yet, killed.” She shook her head. “That was one meatbag you just killed. Just one.”

The way this woman held herself though. The way she asked if Nishaa agreed with her, made her blink a couple of times. Was this woman craving a compliment from her? Oh jesus hell **** no. Nishaa didn’t compliment people freely. Jesus. The way she looked at this dead paladin with such pride, made the necromancer draw her eyes down to the corpse. His mouth clearly blown off. She shook her head.

“No.” She said. Dragging her dark hues back to this woman’s face.

With a shake of her head she turned from the woman the key twirling in her fingers she began to make her way to the door that would take her up to the next floor where she was sure sorcerer’s would be waiting for her. She didn’t know if the glossy lipsticked blonde would follow her, but who knew these days.

“People thinking I give compliments.” She muttered on her way. Her fingertips dragging against wall. “God, they don’t know me.” She snorted and pushed her key into the door, and twisted it. The door clicked open, and she stepped in. The door closed behind her automatically and locked itself again. As she began to climb the steps to the next floor.

She cast a glance behind her and didn’t see Freyja following her. Maybe she got scared. She knew the other woman had a key. She had seen her pluck the damn thing from the corpse.

[Freyja]

The absolute nerve of this woman set Freyja’s blood to a boil.

She had to fight the urge to shout at the other woman, the effort so strained that she ground her teeth hard enough to make the enamel groan and threaten to crack. She stopped quickly when she realized how hard she was being on her teeth. She still hadn’t found that dentist. She took a sharp, quick breath through her nose as she kept her lips pressed into a thin, glossy pink line. Her ivy blue eyes were alive with determination, that spark of anger springing to life in a blaze of resolve.

She watched the woman’s, Nishaa’s, departure, and hefted the key in her hand. The next floor, if her memory served her proper, was brimming with the Apprentice Sorcerers, gifted humans with a prowess for some kind of supernatural ability that she didn’t quite understand. She just called it magic. They were much easier targets than even the footsoldiers, she remembered. That was a place she could really shine. She smirked, her tight lips pulled into a sensual curve as she curled her fingers around the key, securing it in her palm.

“The next floor is all mine.” She murmured as the door clicked shut behind Nishaa. She stood, retrieving her pistol from the holster strapped to her thigh. She knew she was going to need it, and besides, she was better with a gun these days. On Violet‘s insistence, she had been taking classes at the firing range, and was better than average on her grouping, now. The head of security for Scarlet had been very proud of her progress. It made her work harder, the little bits of praise she would get, until she became much better with her sidearm. Even at a full run, as she had been practicing in the sewers against every one of these brutes she could find.

Sometimes, she had to ask herself if there might be something wrong with her; the way she attacked these people was a sure sign of some kind of disorder, she was sure of it.

Pistol in hand, she pushed open the door to the next floor, making her way up the stairs in a meditative silence. She had to be on her game; she could see it in the woman’s eyes, the way she had looked at her and almost immediately dismissed her. She was not going to be easily impressed.

Immediately upon opening the door to the second floor, the lithe blonde’s entire world erupted into action. The stone hallway to her right was alive with the slap of bare feet against the floor, a pair of hostiles barreling down the narrow corridor directly for the tall woman still barely inside the doorway. The two were so similar, for a moment she was confused and thought that one woman was moving so quickly that she was seeing double. The first of the twins impacted against her side, driving her from her feet and smashing her into a stone wall with a loud smack. The second followed behind with a lifted weapon, the silver blade flashing in the artificial light as Freyja’s knee caught the first girl in the abdomen, sending her falling away as she ducked.

The blade slashed across the stone, biting into the hard surface and showering them in sparks. The blonde didn’t pause to collect herself, and leaped into action. The first girl clutched her stomach, doubled over in pain as Freyja took a fistful of thick, chestnut curls and yanked, throwing the girl off her balance and throwing her entire weight into the wall, head-first with a sharp crack. She crumpled to the floor, her head leaving a smear of blood against the stone as she moaned in pain against the floor.

The second girl slashed at her again, sending another shower of sparks through the air as the tall blonde backed away, putting some distance between them. The girl knelt to check on her sister, a hand pushing the curls from her face before she frowned and stood. There was a fire in her eyes that Freyja knew too well. She lifted her blade, words falling from her lips in a rapid succession in some language that the Danish woman couldn’t understand. She was still talking when Freyja lifted her pistol and fired, the slug burrowing a neat hole directly between her honey-gold eyes.

The woman’s tongue wagged senselessly, the blade falling from her hand as she stood there dumbly. Her eyes blinked once before she slowly began to tumble back, crashing into the dusty floor with a thud. Moving quickly, Freyja lifted the first girl by her head, a hand beneath her chin and another against the top of her skull. A quick twist snapped the girl’s neck with a sickening crunch, her body twitching once before falling still. She tossed the first girl’s head against the wall and began to search the pair, hoping for another key. For all she knew, the very woman she was trying to impress was good and gone by now. She cursed, not finding her quarry on either of them, but collected a vial of their blood, one from each of them, and tucked them neatly into her pack.

She’d always heard a sorcerer’s blood was valuable. It was only fitting she got something out of her trouble. Blowing the pair of corpses a kiss, she replaced the fired bullet from her magazine and moved quietly against a stone wall, attempting to gather her surroundings and decide which way she wanted to try first.

“These places are always so confusing.” she muttered, pulling out her phone. Maybe she should have Bambi here, just in case. She was good at making decisions, and helping out when her wounds made her too hungry to concentrate. She should at least be close.

[COMPOSED TEXT]
TO: BAMBI

Bambi, head down to Wickbridge Station and take the train.
You know the address, I gave it to you earlier. Be quick.
Text me when you get here.

xoxo

She took a quiet breath and tucked the phone into her pocket, the fit tight and secure. She brushed a lock of golden hair from her eyes and tucked it behind her ear as she glanced from doorway to doorway. She was beginning to get an eerie feeling that she was falling into some kind of trap. Why else was she so compelled to impress this complete stranger? It set her nerves on edge and she wanted her friend with her. She just didn’t think she could wait that long.

[Nishaa]

The door to the second floor of the raid swung open and Nishaa took a step forward, she was already slowly lifting up her gun. Loading it slowly, bullet by bullet. The rifle was hot to the touch, barrel still smoking from the last hunter she killed down on the first floor. She wasn’t shy. She was here to win. She wasn’t going to beat around the bush. The stragglers and weaklings stayed on the first two floors, the rest moved up. Nishaa wasn’t a straggler or weak. She considered herself strong, and she only considered herself as such since she joined Tytonidae. They had sculpted her to be the perfect killer.

There was something though, something in the air about people dying around her that seemed to fuel her. Rejuvenate her. She wanted to kill everything within her path that had a pulse, and anyone who opposed her or even gave her the wrong look. That girl; Freyja. She should be more careful. She was lucky, really. She had spunk, and spunk was what Nishaa liked in women, if they had fire in her belly they were good in her book but she wasn’t easily impressed. Not the slightest. She got that from both Micah and Every, their bars for perfection were high. So she had strived to be the best, for them. So be higher than the bars they had set, and she had achieved that. So her own bar was set just that little bit higher.

She veered right, straight from the door. Heading down a small narrow corridor. She could hear the pitter patter of feet against the stone floor. She took aim, her onyx hues focused on a female. She was heading away from her, she didn’t even know the Necromancer was behind her. Nishaa was sure to be very quiet, up until her fingers squeezed the trigger and there was a very loud B A N G. The sound of a T H U D. The apprentice crumpled to the floor dead, the back of her head blown away - with a large gaping hole. Blood splattered the wall of the corridor, and some against her cheekbones.

She lifted her own bony fingers to wipe the blood splatter across her cheeks. Bringing her fingers to her mouth before she tasted the blood and immediately spat it back out on the floor, ir was cold. Blood went cold within a dead body quickly, even if it was splatter. She shook her head and sighed, she knelt down beside the corpse and began rummaging for a key but there was none. She sighed, plucking a vial of sorcerer blood before making her way back towards the door only to see Freyja dispatching two, and robbing them of their own blood. She didn’t have a key yet though. So, that was good. For Nishaa.

The blonde woman was busy on her phone for a minute, as she began to make her way down the corridor to somewhere else, and Nishaa followed her. Trailing her from a distance, she suffered on the floor below, now lets see what the blonde ditz was like on the second floor. The sorcerer’s were tricky, if you caught them off guard they were easy. If they came at you head on - their magical abilities were annoying but easy enough to avoid. It was a test of reflexes mostly.

If Freyja fucked up again, well. Nishaa would be there to save her ***, again.
Or watch her turn to dust.
Depended on if she felt naughty or nice, really.

[Freyja]

The second floor of this particular stronghold was quieter than most that Freyja had visited. Groans of pain and pops of gunfire were almost absent. The still silence was like a thrumming in her ears that coiled her stomach into an icy cold pit. Something was wrong with this place. She swallowed the sudden surge of fear, trusting that the suppressing emotion was some wave of power from one of the young apprentices. They were always such dirty fighters, bringing magic and subtle sorts of psychological attacks against their opponents that the tall Dane rarely felt bad about any underhanded technique she might have to use to gain the upper hand. It was clear they didn't much care for any kind of honor.

She placed an open palm against the wall of a corridor as she moved as stealthily as her body could allow, each motion strictly governed as she advanced. She rounded a doorway and nearly collided with the backside of one of her prey. The woman was tremendously tall, even towering above her nearly six and a half feet of height. Thick, fiery red hair fell to her waist in shimmering, silky waves of scarlet as she tipped her head back to yawn into her palm. She was slender, but powerfully built. Strong muscles subtly curved along the shape of her toned legs, wrapped tightly in black leggings. The hem of her top hung loosely against the small of her back, a wide swath of snowy white skin separating the deep, rich green of her top from the black of her leggings. That soft expanse of pale flesh was inviting, a subtle call to the knife at her hip that Freyja couldn't ignore.

She moved quickly, pulling the blade free with a flick of her wrist, naked steel glinting in the light as she rushed into the woman and reached around her, hand clamping down across her mouth as a startled gasp sent a breath of warm air across her cold hand. The steel slipped into the redhead's back with ease, sliding between her vertebrae and severing her spine with a sharp twist. A squeal of pain was muffled by the blonde's iron-hard grip on her mouth as the woman's legs collapsed, sending her to her knees. The knife was free, and with a quick, violent slash, the woman's throat opened, blood splashing across the floor as Freyja's hand finally released her mouth, her pained, frightened wails little more than the gurgle of her drowning in her own blood.

She toppled forward, landing on her face with a thud as a cold shiver ran down her body before the sorceress finally lay still. The blonde lifted her blade, running her tongue slowly across the flat of the steel and licking at the crimson drippings as she gave a satisfied smile, stepping over the corpse and easing into the room.

The second sorcerer seemed to melt from the shadows, catching her completely unaware. His frame was small, his height more than a foot less than hers, but his size was deceptive. His strength was incredible, his speed phenomenal. The knife flew from her hand to clatter across the cold floor, sliding until it thumped against the dead woman's skull. A shock of flame seemed to spread from the man's vice grip on her wrist, an incredible sort of pain shooting through her veins that earned a gasp of agony. She tried to wrench herself free, and he only tightened his hold on her wrist, the bones crunching beneath his supernatural brutish might. A small, but tight fist found the pit of her stomach, knuckles meeting toned abdomen with a lurch of her stomach, blood splashing across the floor as she lost her evening's meal to the impact.

She grunted against the pain and threw a fist of her own into the man's side, feeling a rib crack beneath the impact. Her attacker only grit his teeth and squeezed harder, sending her to one knee.

"**** you, asshole." She snapped, reaching for her pistol at her other hip. The muzzle pressed against the crotch of his jeans and his eyes went wide, mouth opening for a word before the sound of the report filled the room, immediately followed by a screeching howl of agony. Her broken wrist was free, the would-be assassin clutching his groin as he fought to pull himself away from her with one arm, the other frantically, and fruitlessly, fighting to subside the pain that had replaced his genitals. She pressed her lips to the barrel of her pistol and gave the rising smoke a gentle, tender puff before she leveled the weapon on his face. He groaned, his way of pleading for mercy. He looked into the icy cold of her blue eyes and saw in an instant that he would find none. He took a breath to speak, and the pistol commanded silence. The bellowing command for quiet was answered with a hush, the man's pained sounds gone.

Grimacing at the pain in her wrist, she tucked her weapon away and leaned down to search the man's pockets. She only found a few bills neatly folded into a money clip, which she took. The woman proved much more fruitful, a key to the third floor tucked neatly into the left cup of her bra, promptly found the moment that Freyja had kicked her over onto her back.

She had been a pretty sort of woman. Not stunning, by any stretch, but a sort of handsome beauty that she could certainly appreciate. Now, though, the deep red grin across her throat made for an ugly sight. She didn't want to look at her any more than she had to. Taking the key, she stood, and checked her phone. Bambi had arrived in the commotion, and was finding her way up.

[COMPOSED TEXT]
TO: BAMBI

I am moving to the third floor. Meet me there.
If you run into a pale woman with dark hair and some scary fierce eyes, be nice.
Her name is Nishaa. She probably won't be nice to you.
Just tell her you are a friend.
If you don't see her, and I doubt you will,
I'll be by the door on the third floor.

Hurry.
xoxo

[Nishaa]

The woman she was stalking; Freyja despite her little **** up on the first floor she was still fairly decent at fighting, she had to hand it to the woman she could hold her own. Against sorcerer’s so that counted for something anyhow. Her onyx hues watched her carefully, watching the way her body reacted the things happening around her - the way she dodged she was good, she gave her that but when she fell - she laughed, it was a beginners mistake. Sad.

She almost stepped in at one point, but the woman got back up and began to fight her way back showing real power Nishaa admitted that she admired, it seemed being critiqued made you seem much more dangerous, you had to prove yourself and that was what Nishaa did. She made people stretch the limits, and boundaries they already knew they held. She smiled - watching as the sorcerer was finally dispatched after a long, heated battle.

Freyja leant down and plucked a key from the corpse, and suddenly all awe was gone. Nishaa had her competition face back on. The woman was ahead of her. Nishaa hated people doing better than her, she was rather competitive.

Moments later she was headed in the opposite directing, loading up her rifle and was hunting for sorcerer’s she would do everything she could to get a key now. She did not want to be outwitted by a blonde woman, who almost died at the hands of a hunter on the first floor. A snarl ripped through her lips as she veered into another room that broke off from the main area, a group of three sorcerers were huddled here, whispering with one another. She huffed. Loading in the last bullet before cocking the gun and taking the aim.

Twenty minutes later. She was playing catch with a silver key, the key the third floor. She had torn the sorcerer’s apart with not only bullets but her own strength. She was angry and let her anger out on them, poor bastards.

Slipping the key into the lock she turned it to the left and the door opened leading the way to the third floor, where she ran into the blonde waiting patiently by the door. She raised an eyebrow. Watching her before finally speaking. “You’re still alive.” She said it was more a conclusion, than a statement, ignoring the fact that there was a human with her - or that she, Nishaa - had blood caked over her face and clothes.

[Freyja]

Finally, Bambi made it up. The other blonde was shorter than Freyja, but had all the tone and curve that the tall Dane lacked. Where Freyja was thin and willowy, pale and fair, Bambi was luscious and curvy, tan and seductive. They were as likely a pair as could be imagined. When the human girl slipped through the door, she gave a sigh of relief, seeing her unharmed. She leaned down and pushed a glossy kiss to the thrall’s cheek, before she stepped back and held out her hand.

“I know you brought it. Hurry, we’re falling behind. Someone’s going to clear out the place before I have time to find her.” She waited impatiently, before taking the woman’s hands and pulling the bottle from her grasp. In an instant, she was finished, pushing the small, cylindrical container into her friend’s pocket with a thankful smile. “Stay close, stay quiet. I might need you, but I want you out of the way and safe Bambi. Understand?” The girl bobbed her head as she hooked a thick platinum curl behind her ear. Her hair was bleached almost silver, the contacts in her eyes making the irises a crisp white lined by her natural blue. It was part of some new ensemble she was working on, surely, some new character she was pretending to be.

Freyja reached into the girl’s bag and pulled the huge, heavy revolver free and checked that she had kept it loaded, like she had promised. A quick roll of the cylinder assuaged her worry before she clicked it back into place and shoved it into the teen’s palm. “Only if I say shoot, shoot.” Bambi sighed, and clicked the hammer forward, un-priming the weapon and slipping it into the hip of her belt. “Yeah, yeah, I know hon. Stay out of the way and let you handle it. Do what I’m told. You know I know how to do that.” She winked, and shouldered her bag.

Nodding, Freyja primed her pistol, the action sliding into place with a hard click. She pressed a gentle kiss to the human’s cheek and smiled before she froze, the door sliding open in front of them. Nonchalantly, Nishaa’s powerful figure swept into the room. The sort of powerful, menacing aura that the woman had carried about her before was much more intense in that moment, blood dripping from her hair and coating her face and hands, her chest spattered with crimson as she pushed her way through the door. Those piercing eyes looked the pair over and in that moment, Freyja felt like she was being looked through. She wasn’t even there.

”You’re still alive.”

Did she sound surprised? Was that just her imagination, her obsessive drive for perfection edging its way into reality and just making her feel this insecure? She couldn’t be certain. She tossed her head back, and lifted her hands to tighten the tail of golden strands against the back of her skull. “Of course I’m still alive. I said I can handle myself. I meant it. Besides, this is my stop.” She lifted her pistol, the muzzle pointed straight at the Necromancer’s face.

Just a twitch, a subtle flick of her wrist, and the pistol fired, a small gout of flame belching from the small pistol as the bullet screamed through the air, streaking past the woman’s pale cheek. The blonde’s lips twisted into a smirk with the crack of the copper contacting bone, followed by a splat and a heavy tumble of thumps and squeals of naked flesh against polished wood, the paladin’s corpse skidding across the hallway and rolling once before the nude figure rested just shy of crashing into the Necromancer’s legs. The bullet had entered the woman’s brain just above the left eye before shattering, sending dozens of small copper fragments shredding through the soft matter of her brain. She had been dead before she hit the floor.

Blood streamed down her face from the small hole above her listless, blue eye, trailing past her nose to drip from her lips. Freyja leaned down, reaching a finger into the woman’s mouth to pull the small silver object from her cheek. She’d seen the flash as she fell. When she stood again, she placed the key into Nishaa’s palm. “I’m sure you’re here to keep going, though. What I’m after should be on this floor, though.”

She didn’t explain. She likely wouldn’t, or at least shouldn’t. It was a surefire way to have people start believing she was crazy. She didn’t need any help with that. She just gave the woman a smile and looked over her shoulder at the human woman at her back. “Bambi, this is the woman I was telling you about. Nishaa, this is Bambi. My friend.” As she said the word, she turned back to the dark haired woman, the way she said the word, friend, and the look in her eye told her everything.

This friend was her thrall. She wasn’t likely to part company with her, either. She gave the older vampire a flash of brilliant white teeth and tipped her head down the hall, where the paladin had charged them from.

“I’m headed back that way. Pretty sure the door is that way as well. If you want to come along.”