one day this will be over.

     Then, suddenly, an arm was wrapped securely around his waist. The Gothamite flinched, shocked at the woman’s sudden appearance.

     How—?

     What happened next took place almost too quickly for Jack to understand. In the blink of an eye, they were teleported elsewhere, her grasp loosening as they skidded and collapsed upon the ground. It seemed quieter now; they must’ve gotten away from the worst of the earthquake. With a groan, he squinted his eyes… before slowly pushing himself up. His suit looked beaten up with a few scratches and bruises, but at least he wasn’t dead. Green eyes widening, he looked up at the woman as she jogged closer. Was he alright?

     “Y-Yes—“

     He accepted her hands, taken away by the overwhelming change of events. Kindly, she pulled him up to his feet. Not only was it shocking to be experiencing such a disaster, but to be saved by someone like her — it really did seem surreal. “No, really — you have nothing to apologise for, you saved me…”

   “My name’s Ciri.” She stood with shoulders back, hands resting casually on her hips, as she allowed his question to linger in the air a moment longer. “That? Oh, that was nothing. Shouldn’t bother yourself trying to figure out. At any rate, its unlikely you’d believe me, even if I did tell you.” A coy smile teased the edges of the girl’s mouth. "Now let’s see where we’ve landed, shall we?”

   Their platform was made up of dark clay bricks, surrounded by black, metallic railing with pointed tips that stopped against a wall, in which was embedded a door. Despite tremors and quakes that rattled the city, this place remained undisturbed, save for bird droppings scattered randomly here and there. No further inspection was necessary; even the dullest of minds would’ve figured they were on a roof. Ciri counted themselves lucky they’d not landed on a slanted one spied off in the distance. 

   “I’d only intended to take us around the corner...” she muttered, with a note of irritation, starting for the door. Her fingers curled around its knob, though stopped short of opening it. With a look over her shoulder, Ciri motioned him over with a head tilt. “Let’s move on to the lower levels. I'm eager to find out where we’ve ended up.”

@lojalny

【 ✹ 】A strong figure shadows everything else, the vulpine woman’s perception still blurry given prior commotion. It’s an heroic sight if appreciated from afar, debris of buildings behind and some parts still crumbling. Everything silent, danger still lingering.

Tamamo catches a glimpse midst the sunlight and deepens its majesty – a face of incomparable beauty. Not only in her opinion, but she’d defy anyone who dared claiming it otherwise. Vivid green eyes, sharp gaze. Expression matched them greatly, serene and her lips – the Caster’s focus shifted to another feature she assumed equally magnificent, a scar. Rarely can she admit herself being robbed of words, bewitched by a charm she knew nothing of. 

Catastrophe arises and she is to blame for getting caught in between. Clearly, she should have been capable of finding a way out and getting rescued wasn’t part of what she thought possible. 

(Who spares a thought for such a creature? She’s a monster, regardless of what she does.) 

   Now standing in dim light, the witcheress glanced over her charge. She did not take in her shimmering golden eyes, soft pink tresses or the long, peach-tinted, pointed ears that sat atop her head. Ciri’s gaze fell elsewhere; scratched cheeks, frayed robes, torn sash. But for all intents and purposes, she was fine. Ciri sighed, shoulders slack with relief. Luck had been kind. With no reason to linger, she took them away from the wreckage and towards a quiet corner, nimbly avoiding those who rushed by.

   “Master?” Ciri responded, puzzled, and scrunched her nose. She’d never been called such before and hoped never to hear it again. A faint blush, indicative of discomfort, scattered across her cheeks as she gently set the woman on her feet, allowing her hand to remain on her lower back for support.

     He wandered on his own, trying to make sense of the situation. It all felt like some kind of horrendous nightmare; no – something akin to a cruel prank. Yet neither of those possibilities seemed realistic. Not when he could breathe in the industrial stench of the sector, or feel the ground rumble ominously beneath his feet.

     Jack walked faster.

     Racked with worry, his green eyes darted about, steps quickening as he tried to avoid blazing fires and the wreckage of buildings. It was upon rounding a corner, however, that the rumble became a roar, tremors increasing. Jack’s knees wobbled and he staggered to the side, struggling to find support of some kind – nevermind shelter – before he simply fell. That would bruise. 

     Eyes wide with distress, the Gothamite scrambled forward, chest heaving. He had to escape; he had to go somewhere. But where? “Help–” Was there even a place of safety to flee to? He hardly understood where he’d been taken, to begin with.

   A bright flash of light streamed through the crowd unnoticed and, in the blink of an eye, Ciri was at the stranger’s side, an arm wrapped tight around his waist. She needn’t look over to confirm the obvious and, using another one of her limited abilities, shot them as far away as she could manage. Their landing could’ve been gentler, as the sudden stop sent the two of them rolling across the pavement in different directions; however, it was mostly definitely better than dead.

   The witcheress scrambled onto her feet and rubbed the sting from her scuffed face before jogging towards him. The skin of her right cheek had been roughed away, leaving it bright red and dotted with blood.  She hoped he’d fared better.

KYLO then came to wonder what put this woman in such a pitiful state? She was strong, he recalled. Days prior the two had crossed swords, and she proved herself to be a fierce combatant, one bestowed with a certain gift that not even he could fully comprehend even with the knowledge of Force and it as his ally. So it does boggle the mind that something could have done this to her. He could only speculate, really.

THE WOMAN struggled, and he watched, the slightest hint of delight behind his now maskless facade. “You’re not going anywhere like that, I think. Although, you’re welcome to try. It’s amusing to watch you struggle.” His presence clearly bothered her. Did she feel powerless before him like this? Or just annoyed? Whatever it was, he pressed further, fully taking advantage of her worn being. “You’ll have no one to thank, I’m afraid. That scavenger should be dead by now, if not already before I happened upon your sorry form. Now, what could possibly have reduced you to something so broken? Off playing hero again? Like you did for those men I gutted  from before?”

   In a show of strength, the witcheress walked towards the man, even going as far to mask her limp. Ciri was certain he'd speak for as long as she was within earshot. Had he ever the intention to strike, it’d been done the second he laid eyes on her bloody face. So, presently, there was no reason to fear a dog whose bark already proved far worse than its bite.

   But his last words, sharp and painful as a blade stuck in her belly, stung and set the woman’s insides ablaze with a wild fire. Her slender fingers tangled themselves tight in the fabric of his robes in a death grip faster than even she thought possible. Mustering dwindling strength, Ciri yanked him forward and glowered upwards with half-lidded eyes. Only then was she able to take a good look at his face; the face of a sullen man with dark, cold eyes and a familiar disfiguration that mirrored her own. She now knew all she needed to.

   “Don’t speak to me of failure,” she spat, chest heaving. “Though I assume you know much of it given that nasty scar.” Her upper lip curled up into a snarl. “But it’s got my ears pricked, ready to listen to your drivel... And you seem to have got a lot to say... ” Both her hold and consciousness were beginning to weaken; although, she was far too inflamed to take heed of black spots clouding her vision. 

   “So why not...” She blinked once. Twice. Her hand slipped, palm dragging down his chest.”... tell...” Ciri exhaled sharply as a cold chill clawed up her spine, lodging its talons in the base of her skull.

He was troubled, and the notion of being lost in what was supposed to be his own forest hardly helped the matter.

That was when he noticed movement above him; upon turning his gaze upwards, Koschei simply stared. There it was: a small pair of feet swinging just slightly, as though taunting him. A poor attempt at hiding from him. The young Tsar stared, caught up in the moment – before his expression turned to a frown. Had she been spying on him?

     “Devotchka.”

  “And why should I?” Ciri questioned, suspicious. “The dryad’s haven’t gotten to you yet, so that’d make you some kind of monster, wouldn’t it? Only a monster would be able to get away from them!” She peered down at the boy through narrowed eyes, speckled face screwed up with frustration.

@lojalny

WELL, he certainly did not expect to find the swallow’s wings clipped like this. Though utter pandemonium consumed the city like a hungry pit, Kylo Ren had managed to keep his wits about him, his training from both his uncle and the Supreme Leader giving him the focus he needed to survive this literal hell on earth. But he was not unscathed. His sleeve is torn, his robes bloddied and shredded and his helmet and cloak, missing from the scuffle he not too long ago with a hated foe.

REN however, did not count on crossing paths again with this woman. She too, looked worse for wear. In fact, much worse than he did. She’s bleeding all over, bruised and battered. What had happened, he wondered?

   Blinking back pain, she couldhardly make out the man who’d spoken. But by his impressive height, foreign clothing and particular manner of speech, she was able to call a specific image to mind; however, that memory included a certain mask she’d introduced to her boot days prior, which was now inexplicably missing. It was a shame that she could not make out his face through failing vision, but the simple glimpse allotted her served as confirmation he’d been nothing more than just a man after all.

   “Hmmm... you think so?” She welcomed the change of topic with relief. “Never been one for flowers myself, but if a lady like you says as much, I might be more inclined to include them in my daily dress.” Despite saying so, it was unlikely she’d follow through. Even as a small girl, feminine pursuits were foregone in favor of those more practical; however, Ciri was keen to return compliments in kind and hoped her appreciation was understood. Her green eyes followed the woman curiously, as she looked her over with an expert eye. Unconsciously, the witcheress thrust out her chest and rested a gloved hand on the curve of her hip; a hint of a smirk tugged at the corner of her lips. “There’s not a scar I regret and I’d have felt no different earning one on your behalf.”

   Once she’d passed inspection, it seemed they were all set to be on their way. The woman started after the other, initially keeping a reasonable distance behind in order to keep better watch of their surroundings. “I’ve no doubt you can fend for yourself, but as many are wont to say, better safe than sorry.” Ciri hesitated, before adding a bit timidly, “But I’ll admit it’d be hard to get a good night’s sleep otherwise.” 

   With no sign of trouble, her pace picked up to match her partner’s, placing her at the flower girl’s side. “Oh! Right! My name’s Ciri. Though ‘trusty bodyguard’ isn’t without merit. You can even continue to call me that, if it’d please you." She smiled affectionately, meeting Aeris’ warm gaze. It wasn’t very often that Ciri got to enjoy the company of women, especially ones about her own age. The change in companionship was a notably refreshing change of pace. 

THE DROPLETS from the rain did little to obscure the grisly scene before him. The horrible stench of burnt flesh persisted despite the heavens pouring. A handful of bodies lay strewn across the rusting plain, still and lifeless, illuminated by the very weapon that had hollowed out their lives.

DESPITE all he had accomplished so far, he was no closer to his target. His nemesis and prey. The scavenger eludes him once more, and Kylo Ren’s frustration had reached a fever point. The bodies belonged to those who thought it wise to mock him at the time and they paid for it. He’d never been so volatile as he is now, but the girl was his priority.

THE CRACKLING blade then retreated to its handle, bringing darkness once more where its ominous light had shone. He was done here, and the robed knight strode off. But he had left himself a burnt, bloody trail. Clues to anyone who might never ignore outright murder.

   She immediately crouched, gloved hands brushing over the corpse, feeling for the cause of death, and whatever other clues it might hold. Her face reflected her experience with such tasks; this was not the only corpse she’d inspected, nor would it be the last. The cadaver still retained a hint of warmth, though the victim was quite dead – sliced to pieces by a weapon she had no working knowledge of.

   “Odd,” the witcheress muttered, finally standing straight. “Everything seems to be in order…” Despite their being dead, of course. That aside, nothing had been taken from any the bodies she eventually looked over – items, organs, or otherwise – so it appeared their deaths had been for sport alone. Shrugging her shoulders with a frown, Ciri swept soaked hair from her eyes and quickly surveyed the area. The killer couldn’t be far, she decided, given the bodies had yet to cool. She would need to get along quickly. Thunder lit a path paved with footprints which she began to jog along with haste.

   As if in the company of an old friend, the witcheress took a seat beside the woman, with one leg stretched out and the other bent at the knee, on which she rested the corresponding elbow. The lady said she could stay after all, so there was no need for false pretenses.

♞ … … …❝ Stay focused! ❞ His cry is not a critique, but rather the natural encouragement of a former army captain. He does not spare the woman at his back a single glance; after all, they’ve made it this far, holding their own against the pack of wolven monsters they’d the misfortune of having stumbled across. Rather, he looks ahead, narrow eyes affixed to the duo of beasts closest to him. Chest heaves with a breath he can’t quite seem to catch, yet he does not falter in his flawless battle stance, wielding his wooden blade as if it were a a true sword and not a cheap copy. ❝ They are but beasts – we’ll see this through! ❞

   Ciri pressed her back firmly to the man’s in response to his words, allowing no space between them, sword held tight in the grip of both hands. “We’re lucky to have such fine weaponry to see this through,” she quipped, never taking her eyes off the creatures. “Can’t imagine the sort of trouble we’d be in otherwise.” 

   One beast could no longer stave off its hunger. Howling in what seemed like agony, it rushed the woman. With little time to react, Ciri rammed the tip of the blade passed its teeth and into its throat. It cried hideously, paws clawing the ground in an attempt to pull itself out. The others, undeterred by the first’s failure, were quick to take advantage of the break in attention, charging the duo with hungry eyes.