β Β π. Β |Β IN THE WAKE OF DANGER, the senses sharpen themselves to a point. Β it is what is required of this job, this position of power that does not always feel as such: she is closer to vulnerability in these situations, where she must prepare her court for its offender, where her prey is not yet caught in her teeth. in the darkness of night, she arms herself with a dagger and her wits, both weapons sturdy as iron and quick to unsheathe themselves at a moment's turn. anticipation is a wet thing to wear, dripping against her shoulders in a way that lacks comfort, that reminds her of what could go wrong. she walks alone in this street and her prey sits a long while away, close enough to be in plain sight. she sees the back of their head and her mouth begins to water. her footsteps begin to quicken against the pavement, eyes set on a target, and then β the sidewalk concrete gives her a throbbing respite. against pavement, she feels the slickness of blood across her temple. against pavement, her skin begins to itch with gnashing violence, veins themselves pulsating to unleash their own defensive strike. she stands to her feet and her eyes focus ββ quick, quicker than one would expect. the body is kept snakelike and low to the ground...
it happens again, from another angle, the toppling of her body. this time she allows for mock surprise. when they [ @8flesh ] collide with her once again, she wraps her arms around the figure as tight as she can, drags the opposing body down with her. a grunt from her mouth, then something guttural from her belly. she feels the pressure of a palm against her stomach, a knee sharp in its delivery to her torso. that gnashing violence returns.
HER NEXT ACTIONS ARE QUICK AND PRECISE, or as precise as she can make them: with her assailant's palm delivering rough strikes against her stomach, the Saint ( !, though no longer as holy ) twists as a worm in their grasp. her chin tilts towards the sky ββ she sees a flash of a glare, another's face in the dim streetlamp light; the knee returns, twice as hard, and that is enough to spur her into movement. angry, the Vampirish woman locates a covered limb, another's arm against her own. she opens her mouth, fangs sharpened to a point, and bites against flesh and cloth. she thinks: You will not take me down without struggle.
