There was something burning in the distance. Sinclair could see the tendrils of smoke curling towards the sky, the faint bursts of embers leaping in bright orange sparks. This was her shot at finding out exactly who she needed to target on the island. No one would suspect a thing. She was just an innocent human out for a run nearby. They wouldn’t see the array of knives strapped to her side beneath her jacket, or the gun that sat snug against the small of her back. 

She could try for a kill if the numbers were low, but a large group would be impossible to take on. The anticipation of a kill sent a kick of adrenaline rushing into her blood, a genuine smile reaching her lips as her heart set beating double time. This was it, her chance at revenge against the wicked creatures that crowded around the bonfires as the solstice approached. 

A jog slowed to a walk as Sinclair neared the bonfire, the crackling of fire now audible. Each step was precise, avoiding anything that could make a sound and give her away. That could be the end of her if she was found. So she clung to a wide tree nearby, concealed by shadow, before peering out to count the number of witches that circled the flames.

Paolo giggled "Of course I am, I'm trying to be mysterious" he closed his eyes and smirked movies his hands to pretend to sneak around before laughing "But so are you, that's why I like you, because in your innocent friendly looks I feel like there's something more than you hide and is so extremely curious, but... but, but, butt" he chuckled "oops, if you want to know something all you have to do is ask, princesa".

@lenavgardner

It was a fact. It was simple and straight-forward, a razor blade of truth. The world didn’t miss people. It didn’t stop to mourn. Blood spilled was just that, a passing dash of red in the sea of constant motion. Krystal knew better than anyone, or at least better than most. She could taste blood in her mouth, could feel it under her skin, fresh and hot and angry. 

“If you’re trying to scare me,” she said softly, leaning forward ever so slightly, “you’ll have to do better than that.” Defiantly, she sent a gob of spit in the other woman’s direction. This was a game she would play doggedly, fighting to win against the woman who broke down the pieces of freedom she’d built up. If Roman was a monster–and he was–then Iniko was a serpent, and they were both deadly in their own fashion. 

Krystal just had to brew her own kind of poison.