[center][img]http://i.imgur.com/2h8R2YT.jpg[/img][/center]
[center][img]http://sherrygideons.com/wp-content/themes/flexsqueeze150/images/dividers/square-dotted-grunge.png[/img][/center][indent][color=gray]Slim digits curled through the freezing water in a lackadaisical and rhythmic sway that sufficiently sustained her position amongst the chilling embrace of the canal. The shadows had found her form and begun to taste across the modesty of her exposure, curling about in an ever changing web that afforded her a lazy unconcern about detection. Not that the Archadians had time to worry about a spectator. They had found themselves in blooming chaos upon the SOLDIERs murky stage as their tranquil spell shattered. They were unlikely prepared for the crashing fall from the heavens and the angels of death birthed without that began to appear from the womb of the canal and offer their blessings to the unanointed.

Kain, a blinding flame within the dreary fog called to the moths like a ravenous siren and the others picked them off with the laughable ease. Moths, with their firefly beacons of gunshots that darted across the shoreline and did little but call upon them the ferocious attention of their hunters. The obscurity of brume swirled about the monstrous ballet, devouring players and then regurgitating them upon their foes. A dance of destruction half-contrived upon fragility of pure humanity, confused and faulty in their movements, their thoughts, their approach. Her creeping progression had begun finding footholds upon the bottom of the canal. As she continued to look on it would be a lie to say she wasn’t [s]offended[/s] stunned at the notably tame maiming of the enemy and lack of slaughter upon creatures so obviously lesser.

Her clothing did well to let the night’s consummation devour her form as she slipped like a nymph from the river Styx and frolicked across the madness to locate Corbyn just as he moved into the brush away from the shore. She added a small pirouette en arrière to dodge a bullet before ducking in behind her dashing leader. She caught sight of him just as he began his graceful, and apparently practiced, slaughter and she moistened her lips as the first blood of death began to scent the air around them and turn the tide of her ambition. 

[center][color=black][i]They did say “unnecessary death”, and who are we but gods to judge necessity?[/i][/color][/center]
The slumbering dull gray of her eyes began to twist with merging union of fantastical configurations of mind and [i]other[/i]; an inklike pitch began to bleed from her iris and called forth little tremors through her fainéant presence; demanding something more sanguine and cruel. The tips of her fingers seemed to twitch little patterns of summoning or impatience. Innocence fell from her lips to give way to a curling snarl as the shadows began to whip more voraciously about her still uncovered feet. She’d failed at putting her boots on before the shyp had fallen from the sky and they had been lost somewhere in the crash. She seemed not to notice the lack of footwear as she let the illumination devouring umbra coil through the landscape, seeking sustenance and servitude. It crept with her as she edged along the treeline towards Corbyn’s direction.

Then her ears perked and the twitching of her fingers stilled as she sensed the audacious attempt at “sneak” that screamed through the ambiance of the terrain and the firefight she had left behind on the beach.  The vengeful finger of decay crept to the fore front as her feet sought tactical placement subconsciously and she darted forward. Dual bo-shuriken flipped from her wrists and were gripped tightly in wound spider-like digits, blurring at her sides as she gained momentum towards her target. She was silent as she pounced upon the unsuspecting and exposed back and speared the metal through pliable flesh, through shattering bone, rupturing both of his shoulder blades in a demonic piggy back.

The overwhelmed figure began to descend, placing one foot forward in a comical effort to stabilize his form, already woven within the web, already a fly to the spider, her legs wrapped around his torso without reprieve. Snarling lips found hold as they plunged inside his neck, gripping with an inhuman locking of jaw on his jugular and ripping it away before he could falter once more and fall to the ground. She let out a melodic little giggle, completely obscene spilling from her lips that now wept gore down her alabaster chin and then disappeared beneath the neck of her jacket. She pulled herself from him, along with the deadly chopsticks which elicited a painful cry that gurgled from his neck wound that he struggled to grip in an attempt to hold the life force within. Her head tilted at the frivolous attempt and she extended a bare foot to roll the man over onto his back so he could face her. She reached the same foot down and removed his damaged appendage from the wound and pressed it into the ground beside him. In an unexpected snap of movement she raised her foot and slammed her heel into his wrist, feeling the bones shatter through her now blood soaked pad. Corbyn’s voice began to override the whimpering of the destroyed man splayed before her and she listened as her fingers resumed their odd twitching. Obeying on a [i]technicality[/i] she turned and left him there. He still one hand he could hold to the wound.

When she slipped out of the trees it was rather close to Corbyn and she offered him a dazzling smile, overlooking the fact that she probably resembled some cliche vampyre flick. As she joined him the pulsing inky miasma that clung to her silhouette and immediate space began to slither across his feet, pooling between them yet enticing nothing but vision. The sentience of the aeon 'gift' could register him as friend, especially as she bent at his side and strangely studied his eyes, barely visible in the gloom that housed them, had they been human. Her voice came out a whisper and there was something about it that seemed to question more than the mission at hand. [color=white]“Do you think you’re ready for what must be done?”[/color] Then she gazed down the path they would take, ready to follow the commander. If the road to hell was paved with good intentions, where would this road lead?[/color][/indent]