#holyhalberd

“Jay-chaaaaaaan!” the woman beams, hurrying up to the Scot like they’re old friends rather than strangers. Lyra rushes up from behind, whirling around on her heel once she’s past so she’s facing him. Her gloved hands clap together in front of her chest.

(no worries! ))

@holyhalberd

Nasya’s face was buried in her palms as she sniffled and cried; her eyes burned from tears and her cheeks were red and puffy.

((hello !))

@holyhalberd

“I-I’m fine!” Nasya replied, out of breath; her heart beat fast as she looked over at the other. Another Exorcist she had yet to encounter, a pretty one; handsome maybe, in a boyish way. She rubbed her forehead in the place she had just hit by walking right into a door frame as she had gotten lost in her thoughts.

@holyhalberd

For creatures all but famous for their loyal natures, she's always liked to see werewolves as the noble sort. Not necessarily kind, or innocent, but perhaps noble. Better than them, at least.

After all, werewolves don’t have to feed on humans; don’t have a bloody history full of hunters and corpses and massive wars among themselves.

Perhaps, in the few years since she’s been turned, she’s just liked the idea of some inhuman peoples being close to inherently better than not.

With the smell of a hound’s blood tickling the back of her nose, it takes only a few nimble leaps across the rooftops before she’s looking down upon the alley. There’s one, cornered, by others that she can just tell are strays — the lack of mixed scents, the yearning for whatever sense of power they can find...

Sasume leaps down, and in one smooth motion is grabbing the man on the teen and throwing him down the backstreet. It doesn’t take long to scare them off, and all the blood that’s shed is only theirs.