[i]If only... Brigitte...[/i]

It had been her last thought before the end.

A hope, a desire, that if she had to die, then perhaps there was some way.

How many times had her body been pierced? It was practically inconceivably she was still moving. So small, so frail, and yet she was on her feet.

The flesh of her arm split, ruptured blood vessels spraying red. Her internal organs were breaking down. She'd pushed herself harder then she ever had before.

Harder then she ever should have.

And yet, she smirked.

Very well. If they were to kill the Rime-Winged Vermilion Angel, she would show them exactly where their dedication ended. The destination at the end of their journey of zeal.

She stood in a field of frozen dead, forever locked away.

This cold place was her graveyard. The final spot she could recall anything before all faded to darkness.

If only...

And yet Aleksiya Ravennart found her eyes open.

It was strange. She certainly recalled her death, even if, obviously, she didn't remember [i]dying[/i] per say. She remembered her entire body falling apart, the field of ice and dead she had created.

And yet now, here she was.

At least if she was going to awaken within a sarcophagus, it seemed to be one that befit her status.

She raised one hand to push at the lid.

Her thin, pale arm was entirely unblemished, not a single sign of her death. Certainly, she didn't expect scars, but given the state of her body on death, it was almost strange to see it fully intact once again.

Raising her other arm, she pushed the sarcophagus lid up and to the side.

"... How dismal."

Perhaps she should have been more grateful to be alive(or rather undead) once again. But the small vampire's thoughts, incohesive as they were, found themselves resting on the deplorable state of the garden. What a shame. It had been lovely, once, but now it was withered and decayed. It would have been far nicer to awaken in more upbeat surroundings.

Awaken.

She placed a hand to her chest, running it all over her body.

As her thoughts steadily cleared, Aleksiya's grasp of her situation began to solidify. She was well and truly undead once more. She could move. She could think.

And the yawning pit in her stomach indicated she could most certainly feel hunger.

Her entire body felt stiff, tightened up. Just as if she awakened from a long nap in an awkward place, the childish vampire stretched her arms, trying to ward off the stiffness. Indeed, she could feel the tenseness almost immediately dissipate.

A dismal location, to be certain. But she could see the familiar silhouette of a familiar place in the distance.

The vampire hopped to her feet, brushing herself off as she did.

"Ah, after such a long nap, I was hoping there would be breakfast," she complained, jokingly, to herself. Though to be truthful, her lament wasn't entirely a joke. She could feel the hunger eating away at her, no matter her composure.

Aleksiya stepped out of her coffin, running her fingers through her silken hair as she adjusted her clothing. They'd even preserved her favorite dress? She was certainly pleased by that. It was far better then the alternative.

That crimson voice that leaked into her thoughts could only be one person. Or rather, one goddess.

Ichor's call, to guide her to the Alvaris Cathedral. Hopefully, she could address her hunger on the way. She was not eager to lose her composure by failing to feed quickly enough.

Ah, but she wasn't alone, was she?

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