#mastor

Astor dropped her head, scrubbing her hand over her face. It wasn’t fair to take her frustrations out on Miriam. Not when she was just trying to be a friend. “I’m sorry. I just... everything is getting stressful. I shouldn’t take that out on you. Just so tired, you know? Barely see Rhage. We hunt, we go home and sleep, we hunt some more.” 

Astor watched as the boys made their way to Rhage’s room. She knew her plan was... a bad one to say the least but Wrath wasn’t her King. The Brotherhood had accepted him but she never had. He hadn’t been there when her family had been slaughtered, he hadn’t been there when the Lessers had ripped her home apart, hadn’t been there when the Glymera had taken her in and forced her into marriage, forced her into the life they expected for the last remaining blood of Slaughter, and thus one of the six Princeps.  They had expected Astor to let her family go, to ignore the insult, the fact that the lessers had dared to attack and kill such an important family. It was a slight Astor couldn’t let go. They had never expected her to leave, to escape the night of her wedding but then they had always underestimated her.

Going back sent chills through her, a heavy sense of dread which weighed her down more than the weapons she strapped to herself. She didn’t bother hiding a damn thing. There would be no pretty dresses, no acting like a lady today. As always Astor went for her leather - soft, black pants which hugged her hips, boots which crawled up to her knees, a corset which protected her torso and her jacket over top. Holsters accentuated her curves even more, just another thing to piss off the Glymera with their outdated and prudish ways.

With a final breath Astor focused on the Old Country, on the castle she had been intimately familiar with as a child. Hopefully it hadn’t changed too much and she wouldn’t end up in a wall. As a child the Leahdrye had spent most of their time in a large hall like room - a social area where the Glymera had fawned over one another. Ridiculous really. She imagined it now - the large carved pillars, the swarthes of velvet which allowed for more private gossiping, for politics and backstabbing. Materialising always felt odd - a tingling of cold and her apartment was gone and she stood in the one place she promised she would never, ever return to.

The quiet of the room was heavy, oppressive. Eyes all turning to her. A rustle of fabric and metal as guards instantly stepped forward only to be stopped by the Leahdrye’s lifted hand. It wasn’t Montrag as she had expected but a younger male who lounged on a throne like chair like he owned the place. Like he was a king. If only Wrath could see him now. The thought of this drip of piss meeting Wrath almost made her smile. Almost.

“Where the fuck is my friend?” Astor demanded, smoothly pulling two of the sleek black guns holstered to her thighs. One pointed squarely toward the new Leahdyre and the other toward the guards. “You have ten seconds to start talking or bodies are going to start dropping.”

“Astor?” The familiar voice made the bottom of Astor’s stomach drop. How could he be here? Her gun started to dip before she caught herself, pushing aside everything to focus once more on Miriam.

“10… 9… 8… 7…6...5” The first shot rang out, surprising enough of the Glymera around her to send the room into a momentary panic of gasp womening and screeching. The male didn’t move as the bullet bit into the wood of his ‘throne’ beside his head. Cocky. It only made her hate him more.

“Seems they were right. You are pair. Day and night. Her deadly knight, hmm? Or more like her little bitch.” This time the shot was closer, gun dipping as she pulled the trigger to fire between his legs. The sudden surprise on his features did help a little.

“4… 3… 2…”

“She left!” A female cried off ot one side, her voice trembling with fear. It was pathetic. They were vampires yet they hid in the shadows, fearing for their lives and unwilling to do anything about it. “She escaped. Into the forest.”

If Astor had feared for Miriam before… the forest was untamed, filled with the unknown. It was said it was entirely untouched by humans, that the Scribe’s father had given it to her creations as a gift only for it to be filled with corruption via the Omega.

In her moment of distraction the guards moved, swarming forward. The first punch landed, breaking her from her thoughts. She moved instantly - her body reacting without her needing to think the movements through. Fist snapped out, breaking the nose of the closest guard before she dropped to sweep his feet from under him. It was a dance - she moved with grace and ease, twisting, flipping and taking out each of the guards. Only once they lay at her feet did she stop, blue eyes lifting to the Leahdyre.

Halo MCC vs CoD Advanced Warfare! Who wins?

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