——— λιοντάρι

IT  WAS  NOT  TRAILING,   TRULY .   this  was  no  prey,   no  simple  blood-sport  for  a  trained  hunter,   integra  wouldn’t  dare  make  that  mistake .   mere  caution  of  approach,  an  assessment  of  target  before  clear  engagement   ;   tactical,   if  you  will .   irregardless of  previous  briefings,   there  was  always  need  for  field  analysis .

wouldn’t  want  to  meet  a  knight  of  gwyn  unprepared,   would  she ?

❛   i  wondered  if  you’d  ever  notice .   ❜    a  jest  meant  to  pierce  through  tense  air,   said  through  a  half  smile  uncovered  by  shadows  as  the  darkmoon  steps  forth .    ❛   i  must  say,   i’m  rather  a  fan .   ❜

PORCELAIN COVERED A FACE OF WRATH, deep eyes ached with anticipation. The shadows were her cover but she knew it was not enough. Her blades were marked and ready but she felt no immediate danger from this person who stood only feet from where she was. Perhaps it was her sense of mortality letting it’s guard down after embracing the feeling of what felt like a human, but to keep up with her and her agile movements? How peculiar. A fan? How long was she truly in this world? The foreboding within her chest pulsed and she felt uneasy, her blades were sharp and her senses were sharper.

COLD ICY EYES PEERED INTO THE MOONLIGHT, was our DARKSUN watching her from above as she reigned the broken and solemn lands of Anor Londo? Thoughts lingered and a deep thinking occurred. Ample limbs moved and crossed her bosom, she was curious now of this mortal. 

THE LORD’S BLADE could tell just by their scent alone that they were not human, far from the like of those wretched beasts of old. The Arena where Sir Artorias had fought and died lay still and silent, granted only the sweet sound of grass and leaves rustling within the air. Hand upon her breast, another lower to have an easier access to her golden tracer. DEATH WALKS, THE WARRIOR WSS FEARSOME. She almost beckoned the embrace of the possibility of death, a cold aching reacting to the soft sound of the world. 

THE ALLY WAS PITCH BLACK, sounds of the wind and distant voices from ongoing festivities alike within a vastly different and cruel world. Shimmering among the moonlight blanketed street were sword metallic weapons. One made of pure and enchanted gold and other a deep silver. Porcelain mask hid the scarred features of the woman's face as she examined the buildings and her surroundings. A DEEP LINGERING PAIN, THE SHARPENED SENSES DULLED THROUGH YEARS. However, The Lord’s Blade knew she was being followed.. But for how long? 

THE WOMAN OF THE NIGHT, THE SHADOW WITHIN SHADOWS. she was the lethal blade at your throat, SHE AS THE BLADE AT THE DRAGON’S HEART. she is lethal. SHE IS POWERFUL. LORD’S BLADE CIARAN.