Ligeia's austere stare crawled across the bits of brass scattered before her; baffles and screws, gears and bearings, the viscera of contrivance. She'd been sessile for the better half of an hour sussing out the specifics, a process she'd always found deeply ungratifying. It starts with something practical: a need to be filled, from there thought flows backwards--like solving a puzzle in reverse--pulling the picture apart piece by piece. Though loathe to such skull-shattering tedium even a minor miscalculation now meant an encore later, a prospect she wouldn't so much as entertain. 
 
A deep chthonic tone bombinates through the bleak atelier she'd annexed for herself to not so gently derail the woman's train of thought. "Blade Dancer" she groused, now painfully aware of her fellow hunter's slap-dash heroism by way of that invasively esoteric message. Ligeia had half a mind to either ignore it or escort that damned coin several arm lengths along his colon on arrival, with the better part of penumbra between herself and Safety there was plenty of time to mull it over. 
 
She donned the guise of Belladonna proper and became a blur of leather and lace, hardly a step shy of outpacing her shadow rooftop to rooftop.  
 
Arriving in short order any notion of her so-called peer's inferiority was cemented. Not only was the prison on high alert but he'd not so much as cleared a path--a soft touch and an amateur to boot far as the seasoned huntress was concerned. She spared neither a moment or ounce of compassion on making her entrance, careening into the detachment of patrolmen trickling out of the adjacent precinct with enough force to not only break the cordon but dozens of their bones. The way each man crashed into another they may as well have been billiard balls, even less of an obstacle than the menacing hum of the first checkpoint.  
 
"H-Halt!" the unfortunate sentry stammered, leveling a pistol from behind the perceived safety of an electrified barrier. "Don't you come another step closer!" cautioned the guard as he steeled himself, his first shot flying wide. "Afraid I didn't catch that." Ligeia purred, gyring her hips as she eked out the sort of reply liable to hit a man in his front pocket. "Why don't you come a little closer and say it again?" she thrummed, reeling the hapless watchmen closer with her hypnotic motions, snaring his mind with her wicked wiles. He had of course complied, parroting himself with a glossy transfixed stare even as the softest of touches guided his back to the ground, her hold over him savored as a lightly lofted foot found its way to his chest. "Good boy." his captor cooed, toes curling around the Gaolor's emblem proudly displayed across his uniform and plucking it free with a rough twist of heel. His usefulness outlived Ligeia had but one more command for the man "Now play dead." she hushed and sent him sliding through the gate as a tendril of lightning arced free to smite him from the threshold.  
 
An effortless stride carried her over his still smoldering remains and into the prison interior, the huntress had places to be.