the yelling could be heard from miles away practically (alright, that’s an exaggeration, but seriously it’s starting to grate the mercenary’s nerves), and severa has to scoff at the ridiculousness of it. screaming in a location like this would only garner more enemies. despite the danger and risk of helping someone she doesn’t even know, she can’t stand to have someone die in front of her while she can help it. so quick feet rush behind the enemy, arm extending as the sword slices cleanly through the zombie’s head. a flick of her wrist rids the sword of excess blood - though the red still mars the steel blade.
❛ the head’s the weak point; you have to hit them straight through. ❜ a nonchalant reply is given - as if such information is rather obvious. though in fairness, to someone who has been raised on fighting like severa, such knowledge is common. ❛ otherwise they keep coming up like weeds. ❜
this was something she never bared witness to nor would she have had any form of mental preparation to ready herself for such a sight -- she did it with such ease! of course, it was an undead but still .. the sight rendered her to a mere quiver and shake, eyes locked onto the now limp corpse on the ground.
the head is the weak point? what kind of weakness is that --? better yet, how could she manage to get the head off of one?
❛ — you just cut its head off like it was nothing. ❜ of course she did, she had a weapon after all. all she had was .. a camera, ribbons and a scarf. the heck would these items do?














