Another bolt had been reloaded and shot, aiming straight for her. Feigning right, the Vampire knew she’d dodged it successfully. That was, until, the tip of the bolt broke away and an oversized net popped out with a satisfying click.  Renaissance watched the net expand, its crosshatched silver material flying tauntingly through the air. The vampire had undoubtedly dodged the original arrow, but this? The net’s width would surely snag her wings and give her great difficulty keeping her height. The idea of the net ensnaring her, snuffing out her wings like a candle and causing her to topple to the ground made Ren let out a slow growl. She snarled at the realisation that this would mean almost-certain entrapment and escaping from a net like that would involve more power than she was willing to expend on the fury-riddled Hunter.

Like a religious intervention, a bright light suddenly appeared, casting warm white beams to shine down on Belle View. It was a sigil. And by the looks of Lyselle’s determined but panicked expression, she’d been the one to cast it. The symbol hung in the air for a moment or two, like a beacon. And when Ren’s eyes darted below, she saw the net crumpled on the ground like dirty laundry.

[b]"What the fuck are you doing, Lyselle!? She’s a damn vampire! Kill her!!"[/b]

‘What the fuck indeed, Lyselle’ Ren mused internally, the three of them each shared varying degrees of surprise at the heroic intervention. Where had this young Huntress learnt to cast such a strong sigil? She’d formed the symbol so quickly with those agile fingertips, Ren hadn’t even had the chance to acknowledge it was happening. The Hunter’s horror at the betrayal of his kind was well-founded. And it was whilst his guard was dropped that Ren seized her moment. Thanks to Lyselle, a window of opportunity had opened and she wasn’t going to let it pass by her. The Hunter would recover from his shock at the betrayal fairly quickly, she was sure. So Ren chose the only route that was certain to grant her escape.

Blood Magic was a thing of controversy in the Vampire community. Not many fledglings and adolescents were even aware of it but Ancients had likely studied it at some point during their undead lifetimes. Notoriously poorly documented, it was only studied through determined searching for reading materials. Scriptures, scrolls and ancient tomes were the only known evidence of Vampire Blood Magic. Unless you were unfortunate to come across someone practicing it at your expense. Thanks to Ren’s obsession with studying, she’d managed to get her hands on a few volumes on the lost art form. Blood Magic required harnessing a large portion of inner power that was rarely acquired in the community. It was a skill so difficult to develop and the stakes were off-puttingly high, so it was mostly exclusively Ancient Beings that practiced it. Younger vampires had tried, sure. But it resulted in burn-out or worse, death. Creatures had literally imploded from the sheer volume of power required to complete a Blood Spell. Blood Magic was seemingly entirely intended for malicious acts; Curses, deception, harm, destruction. But there were some more intricate castings that were less ominous, these were what Ren dabbled in. She reserved the ultimate evil for when was absolutely necessary. She certainly wouldn’t waste such a large amount of energy on casting against this Hunter. 

But when faced with a Hunter hell bent on her demise, Renaissance decided she’d tap into some preventative Blood Magic. The essence of the magic had no bias when it came to whose blood was spilled. It could be human. It could be otherwise. For potency, Ren used her own blood. For what held more power than Ancient Vampire blood? Whilst the Hunter remained stunned by Lyselle’s impressive distraction, Ren had quickly made an incision in her wrist with that deathly talon at the end of her finger. Whilst the puncture oozed, a black droplet of her blood formed and then ran down the inside of her naked arm. Whilst it trickled down her arm like a black stream, Ren began her incantation. It would be swift, it would be articulate and it would be effective. 

[b]“Please don’t kill him!”[/b] Lyselle plead. The vampiress, wings pulsing to keep her suspended in the air with a great vantage point for her attack, shot a withering look at Lyselle. The arched brow challenged her as if to say ‘And let him kill me instead? Never’
That look was all she had time for, she had to finish the incantation. Blood Magic could not be left half finished, it was hungry in its nature. Complete the spell or let that dark power roam free. 

Ren finalised the spell, casting an extended finger to guide the energy towards the intended victim. This wouldn’t kill him, no. It would maim him. This particular ailment would only last long enough for Ren to disappear. She’d retreat back to her loft, where her Wards would grant her anonymity. All the while, the Hunter would awake from his nightmarish slumber disorientated and unsure of what had just happened. That should do it, shouldn’t it? And she’d grant Lyselle’s request to leave him alive. 

As the dark energy trailed down her veins to the tips of her fingers, Ren continued to repeat the incantation, coaxing it out of her body. She saw the black smoke-like stream writhe down her veins and out into the air. The smoke entered the space before her and exhaled audibly, a sigh of relief to have been brought to life and a sigh of pleasure to have been put to work. The cloud dissipated and Ren knew it had, through osmosis, bonded molecularly with the air they were breathing. Soon enough, the Hunter would take a breath and slip into an uncomfortable sleep. His sleep would be littered with nightmares and leave him confused when he finally awoke.

Describing this now, it would be reasonable to assume casting Blood Magic was a lengthy process. However, Ren had drawn blood, chanted and cast with a slick professionalism that meant by the time the Hunter realised what was happening, the dark energy would be corrupting him already. 
Renaissance, relaxing in the knowledge that she’d gained some time, turned to face Lyselle and lowered herself to the ground once more. She tossed her mane of dark hair over her shoulder and took a few quick strides towards the Huntress. There were many questions burning:

[i]“Where on Earth did you learn to Sigil like that?”

“Why the hell did you protect me? I had it handled (ish)”

“Did you not want to mention you weren’t travelling alone?”[/i]

But more than all that, more than the technicalities, Red was dying to ask:

[i]“Do you feel what I’m feeling?”
[/i]
And by that she meant this channel of energy connecting the two of them, this sense of knowing. Surely she couldn’t be the only one that felt a gravitational pull tugging at her corrupted soul, dragging her toward Lyselle like a leash.
But Ren vocalised none of these questions. Instead she stood just out of arms reach from Lyselle, arms folded, waiting for her to explain who the hell she’d just put to sleep.