Sable Night: Open Starter // Regeneration 2
Wait. Hold. Hold.
Breathe.
They were arguing. Her target: this enemy of the Silence, and some other man. That was alright. She could wait. The sound echoed off the slick brick walls framing the dimly lit street. A faint tapping of water dripping from the storm-drain. The cool press of metal in her hand- a gun. No, too loud. She put it away, reaching for her knife. Yes, quieter, more intimate. Brooke gave a twist of a smirk and reached up to preen at her upswept blonde curls, green eyes surveying the scene.Â
Finally the other bothersome person left - exposing the target to her. This would be a boring in-and-out kill. No banter, no torture, just a slice, a quick cut, a brief warm splatter of blood across her face and what was done could never be undone. It was a raw, powerful feeling. One made of the copper taste of her own blood, the convulsive fire of electricity and dark words whispered in her ear when she was small. They shrouded the older, better memories. The memories Brooke put away because they hurt too much. It was easier, somehow, easier to forget what she’d been torn away from and simply focus on the knife in her hand.Â
And in a rush of movement, all grace and flowing, powerful lines, the rush of adrenaline and then sharp hiss of breath and blood - she was done, and the body fell to the ground next to her. A faint drip, drip, drip of the fluid from the glinting blade. Her breathing. Those were the only sounds in the street.
Then, her ears picked up another- shuffling, another pair of lungs. Making no indication that she’d noticed the other person’s presence, she began to walk. Circling like a bird of prey, seeking out the witness, calculating their distance. A smile played on her lips, and she thought that perhaps this job wouldn’t be so dull after all. Deftly, her fingers found her gun and she whirled, training it on the offending presence.
“Do it quickly, do it slow, your choice. Though, I must say- I much prefer the latter.” Â
