The Shaitan’s back was turned to her. The huntress noticed, but stayed still. She merely listened to his footsteps as he walked away. Her keen ears memorized their sound. Their weight. Their gait. 

She’d never let that enemy sneak up on her. Never again. 

It was not the right moment to hunt that beast though. The guard with guns was present. It didn’t matter if he seemed soft. A huntress doesn’t take any prey lightly when it comes to the hunt. 

Her calm, soft eyes examined the orphanage. Then they looked to the doctor as the woman beckoned both her and the guard with guns to follow her inside. 

[i][color=39b54a]”Right moment? No… terrain unknown…”[/color][/i]

This facility’s structure was unfamiliar to her. As were the young subjects that ran around or looked at her or ran around. 

She also made no response when offered a beverage. She was quiet and calm as she looked the place and its current inhabitants over with her quiet, reserved expression. 

[i][color=39b54a]“Training?”[/color][/i] She wasn’t unfamiliar with running around, yet the way these subjects did it was haphazard. Her ears picked up their sounds. She could feel their eyes on her, particularly her arms. 

She paid the gazes no mind. She was used to being looked at. Yet her arms being looked at by the eyes of the young subjects made her look back, if only for a few moments. 

When the doctor asked her that question… her ears moved ever so slightly. Words played in her mind. 

But they weren’t of that ambition filled voice.  

[i]”[color=00aeef]Is it ok if…[/color]”[/i]

[i]”[color=00aeef]That looks bad, can you let me look?[/color]”[/i]

They were the kind voices of the Anderson Doctors back in Mabel Village. 

Those doctors had asked similar such questions before checking the various wounds accumulated during her various hunts and training. 

She noticed the eyes of these younger subjects… were not too dissimilar from the children of that same place. Looking at her arms with curiosity as they ran and played whenever she just so happened to walk by. 

[i]”[color=39b54a]Doctor? Scientist? Prey?[/color]”[/i]

For the first time in a while, the elf was confused. 

Not that it showed of course. 

Instead she merely nodded to the scientist’s / doctor’s question. She needed to check something. 

[i]”[color=39b54a]Doctors… heal. Scientists… experiment. Need to study… prey[/color]”[/i] 

A good huntress studies their prey. Learns about it. All in preparation for the right moment. The moment the hunt began. 

So without much care for modesty, she materialized her hands and removed her bloody clothes right there. In that regard, she was much like a beast as the two bright, light green hands constructed from Anemo removed her clothes before simply dropping the bloodstained garments to the side. 

She only knew clothes were good for their practicality and ability to protect oneself from the elements. The concept of “Modesty” was something that never once crossed into her mind. 

She also knew that whether it was doctors treating wounds or scientists performing experiments, both often involved taking off them off so that the wounds could be seen.

Now to anyone there her bloody, scarred form was on full display. Surgical scars, battle scars, more surgical scars, more battle scars. Scars that came in all different shapes and sizes. From who knows how many varied kinds of instruments. From who knows how many surgeries. Her body was like a blood stained map. 

She had a gunshot wound in her stomach, the bullet still in there. Any trained doctor worth their salt, or anyone with eyes for that matter, could tell that this was a very recent wound that nobody noticed. 

She had a noticeable wound in her side, from where Garrick had pulled out that arrow. 

On her back were two shallow, bloody lines from those swords that hit her. It seems though that rather than slashing her to pieces, the blades were stopped by metal that was embedded deep in her flesh. 

There was both dried blood and fresh blood on her body. The dried blood was that of her enemies. The fresh blood was her own. 

This was not to mention the various other wounds on the rest of her. Her face, her legs from when she kicked those enemies without any form of protection or leg armor and happened to kick the errant weapon. 

Despite how bad her wounds looked, she was still walking as if nothing was wrong. Now she was looking at this doctor as she simply waited, calmly and quietly, her expression still not really having changed at all. 

On her bloodstained body there was another source of emerald coloring that stood out aside from her eyes. A metallic socket on her chest. The socket stood over where her heart was. It seemed there was more armor imbedded into her than just the arms. 

Inside of that socket was a Vision that gave off a green glow as her hands were materialized. 

When her hands vanished, said vision stopped glowing. The socket seemed embedded in her flesh, much like her gruish mechanical arms were at the shoulders. These clearly weren’t simple prosthetics that one could put on or take off at will. 

There was no doubt far more beneath the surface of this girl’s flesh than what was visible on the scarred, bloodstained surface as her bloodstained “armor” was clearly not being worn by her, but rather a part of her flesh.