Renaissance’s senses were exploding with stimulus. Her nose inhaled the scent of her enemies in quick, short breaths. Her vision had sharpened, like the twist of a focal camera lens. Her movements were always swift, agile yet elegant. The ancient vampire truly engaged in battle as if it were a well choreographed dance. Like lovers salsa dancing on a dark night. 

Except this wasn’t a dark night. It was broad daylight. And Ren didn’t have her toned arms snaked around the hips of a lover. Instead, she’d cut open the flesh of Delwyn the Hunter and watched as his scarlet blood spewed from his ruptured skin. What followed were some determined strikes fuelled by his enchanted rage. They lacked the precision they undoubtedly normally had thanks to the fury that bubbled in his stomach. That face a perfect picture of rage, contorted into pinches of something bloodier than disdain. Renaissance ducked and dived, her shoulders rolling, her back arching, cutting through the air in speedy dodges. The threat of that hungry blade narrowly avoided the Vampire’s skin, bouldering through the air around her in repeated near-misses. Ren could hear Delwyn’s grunts of effort, little puddles of bubbling spittle forming at the corners of his downturned mouth.

As Delwyn the Hunter struggled to recover from his combination attack, his wounded left side weighing on him greatly, Renaissance’s hand snapped out to grip his forearm. Her fingers closed around just above his wrist, locking into a bear trap of a grip. Twisting her arm in a sharp, flicking motion the Vampire forced Delwyn’s hand to loosen on his weapon. Whilst stunned and before he had the chance to swing for her again, Ren levered herself around to Delwyn’s back. If human and animal were two colours on a canvas, Renaissance was blending the two as she leapt onto Delwyn’s back. She wrapped her legs around his waist, locking her ankles to squeeze in a suffocating hold. Mounted upon him, the Ancient glared down at the arteries in his neck, pumping furiously. One arm twisting around his jugular like a python, Ren pulled back. The sweet spot between her bicep and forearm was snugly pressed against Delwyn’s adam’s apple and the pressure she enforced upon him would be enough to hear cracking bones soon. Ren wasn’t ignorant enough to assume that her advantage from upon his back was sustainable. She had little time to finish this attack before he gathered himself and readied for his counterattack. The Ancient let out a shrill shriek as she plunged her fangs into the Hunter’s neck, revelling in the sensation of flesh crumbling beneath her elongated cuspids. Legs locked around Delwyn’s torso, one arm still squeezing his neck like a murderous scarf, Ren felt the warm spurt of blood filling her mouth. It bubbled from the puncture wounds, the nightmarish creature angling her face so the fangs widened the incisions. The warm elixir that the Vampire craved so wholly slid down her throat, coating her teeth, enveloping her tongue. It was metallic, the tannins full and adrenaline polluting the ordinarily sweet tipple. 

As Lyselle engaged further in battle with Felicity, the only thing to pry her from Delwyn’s delicious neck was the bond vibrating with a call for attention. Ren dropped from the Hunter’s back, not checking to see if he’d been properly incapacitated. The curse took hours to take hold, she had time to circle back and ensure he was dealt with before the blood began to turn. For now, she directed her attention to Lyselle. Her majestic, capable Huntress was fighting off the jealousy-fuelled Vigil member. There was an efficiency to Lyselle’s movements that demonstrated her capability as a recruit. Her shortsword had found its way embedded into Felicity’s shoulder, that much was clear. Though the vampire had been busy mounting Delwyn like a wrestling partner, she could see Felicity weakened dramatically by her Huntresses handicapping blow.

But Renaissance had listened to the bond’s call too late. Distracted by the newly awoken Thomas, spell broken and ready to join the flight, Felicity’s weapon buried itself in Lyselle’s forearm. It had all happened too quickly for Ren to intervene and guilt pricked the bond as she had the sinking feeling that Lys was wounded. Seeng her bonded lover’s face pinch in pain made the Ancient’s body erupt into unfathomable rage. Like lighting a fire beneath her, Ren sprung forth. Crossing the distance between Delwyn’s discarded form quickly, she rumbled a thunderous growl and a shrill scream ripped from her snarling lips. Ren’s bat-like wings snapped open from her spine, spanning in impressive width and causing her to seem a lot larger. Just as a wildcat would brush up their tail, heckles flaring, spine arching and curling, Ren’s wings trembled with suppressed, primal anger. She saw Lys’ forearm wound seep blood and the bond crackled with concern. This battle would not be easily won. She had to accept that wounds would be made, on both sides, and that was part of the balancing act of a war. For both of them to emerge unscathed was an impossible, naive pipe dream yet seeing her precious human Huntress injured was as if she’d suffered a fatal blow herself. Regardless, Ren didn’t have time to embrace the heartbreak. She had to protect Lys. 

Just as the Ancient was about to engage in more combat, a whistling caused her to nap her head to face Holt. She’d made the mistake of turning her back to the experienced Vigil member. Too distracted, too torn, too concerned. Ren hissed as she realised she’d created an opportunity for Holt to plant an attack. A jian, blessed silver hissing as it soared through the air, heading straight for her. If not for the vampires wings springing forth from her spine, the flying weapon would have been easier to avoid. But the vampire couldn’t quite move quick enough and she watched as the spiked jian arced like a javelin and punctured the thing skin of her right-hand batwing.

The sound of the blessed blade tearing through her wing triggered a deep roar of anguish from the vampire. Renaissance felt her knees buckle, threatening to give out. Her kneecaps trembled from the weight of keeping her upright, the smell of singed flesh filling the air. The simmering, white hot pain that imploded from the penetration of the jian was momentarily blinding and Ren strained to refocus. Vision blurred, she squinted under the efforts to recalibrate. She had to recover quickly, to preempt a follow-up strike. Holt wouldn’t relent, no doubt lining up her next attack and this time Ren would not allow the blow to land. 

Defensively, her batwings folded back into place, disappearing within her back. She focused her gaze on Holt, repressing the acknowledgment of pain pulsing from her wounded wing. The bond had illuminated with the shock of her injury and Ren felt torn between return attacking Holt or joining the fight against Felicity and Thomas.

Deciding with the click of her fingers, the Ancient dove amongst the clash of the two Vigil recruits VS Lyselle. The safety of her bonded human far outweighed the need for revenge with Holt. That would come later.

For now, she hissed as she approached the pair, choosing Thomas as her next victim. The talon sliced through the air like a conductor leading an orchestra, each swipe aiming for Thomas’ back, shoulders and neck. The sharp whistle as the talon danced through the air punctuated the attacks laced with pain. Ren gritted her teeth through the burn that coursed through her spine, reminding her of what could happen if she allowed her mind to become distracted again. The battle continued and Renaissance Le Sang kept her senses on red alert, listening for Holt’s next attempt on her undead life.