[B]Gratia Mindaro - Zephyr Outskirts[/B]

"[color=66cd00]I wILl keep my lips zipped then, cApTAiN~[/color]" said the teenaged Huntress, fingers of her left hand dancing light across the hilt of her sabre. "[color=66cd00]However ... don't keep me waITing.[/color]"

She was falling. She was losing clarity. Her blood was screaming for it. Those that shared a team with her ... their harsh rebukes ... their very presences ... they were drifting into nothing. It was a haze. A haze of violence and anticipation and glorious bloodshed. The world was narrowing. Fiordilatte meant absolutely fucking nothing. Venetia was little more than a distant insect. Harken was a non-entity, irrelevant as if merely a small thought in the mind of a rodent. There was only the battlegrounds of the future. There was only her and those she sought to punish for their transgressions.

There was only neutralising everything that threatened Nuit's safety.

Gratia Mindaro waited with a serene smile.

Her onyx orbs watched chillingly.

It was nearly time.