[center] [img]https://i.imgur.com/PVXYWf6.png[/img] [img]https://i.imgur.com/qAakc1A.gif[/img][/center] [center] [color=7DBC89]Race:[/color] Yuan-ti [color=7DBC89]Class:[/color] Rogue Arcane Assassin [color=7DBC89]Location:[/color] The enchanting bathroom [color=7DBC89]Interactions:[/color] [@FunnyGuy] Minerva [@Helo] Ezekiel [color=7DBC89]Mentions:[/color] [@Apex Sunburn] Scratch & Val [color=7DBC89]Equipment:[/color] [hider=Full Equipment List]🌸 A finely crafted katana 🌸 A concealed dagger laced with paralytic venom 🌸 Throwing needles coated with different poisons 🌸 Black silk combat outfit reinforced with hidden Mithril chainmail 🌸 Soft-soled boots that allow for near-silent movement 🌸 Smoke bombs and illusion charms for quick escapes 🌸 A set of forged documents under multiple aliases 🌸 A tea set and an assortment of teas 🌸 Incense[/hider] [color=7DBC89]Attire:[/color] [color=7DBC89]Gold Balance:[/color] 93 [color=7DBC89]Injuries:[/color] Gash on hip and thigh, small cut on her head, aching shoulder [img]https://i.imgur.com/phiFSQQ.png[/img][/center] There was a sickening splat. Not the kind that made one jump. No, it was far more humiliating than alarming. Cool, wet pulp struck the back of Meiyu’s head with an indelicate [i]thwack[/i], followed by the slow, sticky drag of peach flesh sliding down the back of her neck. She froze. Her head tilted slightly–an inch, no more–as if she needed confirmation that what just happened… truly had. The sweet, sickening scent of overripe fruit mingled with blood and smoke. Slowly, deliberately, she reached up and plucked the peach from her hair. Then she turned. Eyes like molten amber locked onto the culprit, unreadable. The shifter girl had the look of someone who thought the world was her stage. Cocky. Cute. Reckless. Someone used to being the one who made others squirm. Meiyu didn’t squirm. She approached with the silence of coiled death, her injured side ignored for the moment, her expression carved from ice and shadow. No words yet. Just her gaze–predatory, unblinking–meant to strip away all the bravado that came so easily to loud-mouthed kittens. When she finally stopped, it was close enough for Minerva to see the red streak trailing down Meiyu’s temple from an unseen wound, the damp smear of fruit mixing with blood at her jawline. She smiled. But there was nothing kind in it. Only teeth. Meiyu reached up and touched Minerva’s cheek–slowly, fingers trailing in a gesture that almost might’ve been affectionate, were it not so utterly invasive. Her thumb brushed just beneath Minerva’s eye, tracing bone and skin with the careful, quiet reverence of someone assessing a kill before the strike. [color=7DBC89]“Where I come from, kittens that tease serpents don’t get nine lives.”[/color] She leaned in, almost close enough to kiss the woman. [color=7DBC89]”They don’t even get a second breath.”[/color] She let the words sit. Not loud, not shouted–just low, intimate, meant only for Minerva to hear. And then her fingers lingered just a moment longer… before gently dragging down Minerva’s jaw and letting go. [color=7DBC89]“You like startling people? That's your little thrill? Hm.”[/color] Her voice dipped silkier, softer. [color=7DBC89]“I could teach you what it feels like to truly fear something. To be hunted in your own skin. To look in a mirror and not know which part of you belongs to you anymore.”[/color] There was no rage in her tone. No need to raise her voice. The calmness made it worse. [color=7DBC89]“You’d do well not to confuse mercy with disinterest, mischievous little kitten. Because I promise you–”[/color] Her head tilted slightly, and for a heartbeat, her expression flashed something ancient and cold and deeply cruel beneath the surface. [color=7DBC89]“I am the wrong serpent to swat at when you’re bored.”[/color] She didn’t wait for a reply. She turned without fanfare, flicking a sticky bit of fruit from her fingers as though it had personally insulted her. Her eyes scanned the crowd. Survivors clung to debris, some still rising from the chaos, others tending to wounded or clutching children. But she wasn’t looking for just anyone. And then–there. Ezekiel. The man stood a little apart, near where she had witnessed something interesting during the crash. Something in his demeanor suggested he hadn’t been thrown off by the crash. Perhaps not even disturbed. That made him useful. Meiyu began making her way toward him, her steps smooth but slower now, her side beginning to ache with the throb of reality. She needed the bleeding checked and he might just be the person to help her. And if he wasn’t, well perhaps he’d seen two others she knew could help. Scratch. The girl. Where had they ended up? She didn’t know. But Ezekiel might. [color=7DBC89]”Eyepatch, might I trouble you for a moment?”[/color] She called out to him. And woe be to anyone–or anything–that dared throw fruit at her again.