Sometimes reality beggared metaphor. Fucking Vampire Cops, as if the real kind weren't blood sucking parasites enough. Misty placed her pistol on the ground and straightened up placing her hands behind her head and interlacing her fingers, having no desire to be shot and or sabered having just escaped from being shot and or bayonetted by Aberlinne. She kept the buzz of arcane power alive in her mind, just in case a quick exit should be required.

"What seems to be the problem Officer," she said, unable to completely eradicate the urge to snark.


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Put a face to a name on the senior officer - 8
Marked Night
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