[h2][color=66CD00] Gratia Mindaro – An Old Friend[/color][/h2]

Vitoria knew what fear felt like. She knew what it was like her entire life. Her father had always told her that should she not live up to his expectations she would be exercised from the body of the family. She was taught torture. She was taught how to inflict fear, she had known that you had to pierce deeply and dig everything you could reach up to the surface. When Bianca Nuit was thrown into her doors, she [i]inflicted[/i] fear. She cultivated it like a gardener. 

And yet.

While she had fallen on her ass, looking up at a girl, hoisting her old prey over her shoulder. A hole in both of her knees. She didn’t feel fear. No, it was something most certainly more profound than fear. She was looking across the way at the god of death. And she was angry. Vitoria wanted to run, to kill Gratia, to kill her and that Nuit bitch. But the longer she thought, the more tired she became. She tried to pull herself up off the ground and yet she faltered once more. 

Vitoria looked up at Gratia and screamed, as she did Gratia would notice the man who had been standing at the end of the parking garage reach her. He was already sweating profusely by the time he reached Gratia, he fell to his knees, and a phone spilled onto the floor of the parking garage – a man’s voice could be heard calling out on the other side.

Through all of this Bianca seemed to be struggling more to breathe. Coughing once more, once more blood coming back up.


[h2][color=fff79a][s]V[/s][/color][s][color=66CD00]G[/color][color=FADA5E]N[/color][/s][color=7fffd4]B[/color] – Shit Hits the Fan[/h2]

Demetrius uttered a guttural howl as the steam rose up and immediately charged towards Beryl’s last known location thrusting immediately towards the girl’s chest. But felt nothing make contact with his blade. He immediately looked around for the girl.

[color=#6acaf7]“Where the hell are you?”[/color] Demetrius’ hand gripped his blade until his hand stung. [color=#6acaf7]“Give me back your gaze, [i]Faunus[/i].”[/color] To say his demeanor had slipped was a gross misunderstanding of the situation. It felt more like Demetrius’s mask, the utility he used to hide his identity before had disgusting holes in it. He paced erratically scanning the quickly dissipating steam for the girl.