#talahdore

Sometimes, Aomora found herself struggling to get her hands on anything that could sustain her. In recent years, that 'sometimes' was becoming more often. Blood was ever the struggle, as some prey proved more of a challenge than others. Magical trinkets had been exhausted ━ at least the ones she could get her hands on without too much effort.

The less nourishment she found, the less energy she had to spare, making a simple hunt seem like a somewhat unobtainable thing.

Despite her keen senses, she hadn't noticed another approaching ━ so far was she sinking into her own thoughts. Once she became aware of another presence in the ruins of her family's ancestral home however, she bristled. The goblet she was holding, her hand clutched tighter and bended the metal of the old and worn item, causing droplets of blood to spill out.

❝ You are trespassing. ❞ Sure. If one could call it that; she might well be the last person to care about such, in the grand scheme of things, trivial matters ━ at least within the Ghostlands.

“ only three words? ” she questions while holding up three fingers for the other to see. a seemingly innocent frown pulls her lips downward before it quickly gets replaced with a grin followed by bursts of manic laughter. « 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸𝘴 𝘢𝘣𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘳𝘦𝘱𝘶𝘵𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯. 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘶𝘴𝘦 𝘪𝘵 𝘢𝘨𝘢𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶! » the familiar voice whispers into her ear as the laughter fades, she whips her head to the side with a sudden, “ shut up! ” then her expression turns momentarily soft, almost innocent before it distorts into another grin.

hands raise as if she’s been caught by a piltover warden ( as if they could catch her & the thought of it almost makes her laugh again ). “ look, my hands are empty! not a single gun in ‘em! so go on, say what ya gotta, i’m all ears! ” she leans against a nearby wall & places her hands behind her back as she waits. she then hums softly while looking around the room, her eyes focusing on everything & nothing. her brain is a constant flutter of activity, buzzing like the electricity in the overhead wires.

“ but make it quick, will ya? unlike some people, i don’t have all day to chat. ” blue eyes flash at the stranger, giving a glimmer of pink in their hue. her grin grows scarcely wider as the front row of her teeth exposes themselves.

“ i’ve got things to do, people to see, buildings to destroy … i’m kidding! i don’t have people to see. ” her arms raised above her head as she stretches.

" Agh- "

He's caught completely off guard to a grip as tight as death itself, hearing a familiar voice. A shudder down his spine as amber eyes drift to the side where he can barely make out her form in peripherals. He grits his teeth as he shifts in the taller elf's hold, trying to maintain some form of control whilst in her dark presence.

" I'm not owned by anyone, that much you should know by now, Ranger... "

“Well  ,  well  ...  a disappointment. Far be it from me to set my expectations so high. You are well past your prime.”  Dignified, her nose crinkles as she exhales smoke from between parted lips, dully knocking ashes from the pipe she carries. Whomsoever has deigned to grace her presence, ‘twas not a being to be consumed, tooth and nail. Oh, no. She was rotten.  “You reek of the undead.”

A pause  ——  then she hums.

In the battle that was to come, since splitting apart from their friends did Sypha find that they were going to have to be stronger than before. No Belmont, but with spells and books thereof of them could the wizard make use of diverse applications. Some of which entailed the hope of summoning the Norse valkyries, in hopes of acquiring new abilities, or means to victory. Concentration stumbled. skittering through the incantations as refulgence flickered on the trunks of the trees that circled the wizard through their efforts.

The fire crackled and its light played in the melancholy in Sypha's features, knees gathered to their chest while the lone howl of a wolf and forlorn baying of an owl sounded in the night-engulfed distance. See the meandering brook that cut through a deep ravine and burbled animatedly against its plunging cliffsides. More than silence, it was knowing that the only liability was one's self. That the people buried in one's heart would only have to anticipate a death someday, and nothing more. Then they would be reunited at long last.

The fire crackled and its light played in the melancholy in Sypha's features, knees gathered to their chest while the lone howl of a wolf and forlorn baying of an owl sounded in the night-engulfed distance. The spirit they'd summoned hadn't been like any they had before, and Sypha genuinely suspected she must've been some dead goddess of another pantheon, but it didn't matter for she was wise and not choosing violence despite her appearance one would decry as demonic.