In those first moments her attention was on the powder, knowing that drawing the ward might save her life. But the sound of thunder echoing across the buildings startled her — causing her to jump slightly in the briefest pause. Her eyes shot upward and a quiet gasp escaped her trembling lips, her adrenaline spiking as she laid her gaze upon those beautiful and terrible wings unfurling with a grace that spoke of experience and control. 

[i]'Shit!'[/i] With haste she returned to her sigil, spilling a circle around herself as she heard and felt the wind shiver at Ren’s approach — the vampiress' circling giving the young woman just enough time to enclose herself and let out a huff. Finally she could look back up with some measure of safety, watching the vampire sweep around her one last time.

As Ren moved to hover in the air with the beat of ancient wings, Lyselle stared at her as if examining a puzzle for the first time. As her eyes skated across her enemy, she took in the haunting beauty of the leathered wings, the marble-like skin, the familiar raven hair, and finally those ancient, mystic orbs as their eyes locked. There was [i]something[/i] there that made the young huntress freeze before she closed her eyes and shook it off — now noting that smile. Lyselle let out a small tsk at Ren beckoning her, twisting her grip on her sword defensively.
[i]'Taunting me...'[/i] she thought as the click of her tongue sounded into the cold air, never letting her gaze wander from her opponent.

To someone watching, it would seem like Lys was frozen — perhaps afraid or not confident enough to fight — but Ren would see far more than most mortals could. Slight shifts in her stance, twitches of her wrist, tiny repositionings of her fingers, and a calculating gaze. Though it would be obvious — to Ren — that this huntress was no veteran, neither was she caught in fear or in reckless bravado. No, those dark brown eyes of hers were searching, scheming, deliberating what to do next. Lys quietly reminded herself of the vampire’s strength, that even if the creature appeared careless or arrogant, it could snap into action the moment she landed a hit — [i]if[/i] she ever landed one.

That last thought sprung her free hand into motion, reaching to her side for another bottle — quick as she could — unclasping it and tossing it toward Ren like a throwing knife, full of holy water. In truth, Lyselle didn’t care if it hit or not, because that wasn’t the purpose. Instead, she wanted to see [i]if[/i] she could hit... and if she couldn’t, would the vampire catch it or dodge? She needed to assess what she was truly dealing with, for her only references were vampires much younger than the one floating before her.