"You will die if you charge."
When Glyph spoke, most people deigned to listen - her voice was a mixture of gravel and authority, months upon months of not having been used increasing her baritone to levels that most would likely only hear after the most severe hangovers (she saw Bryn and immediately thought that it might have been something she'd experienced), and when a woman on an imposing horse with two crossbows looked down at you and spoke, it was probably for the best to heed her words wisely. Most Hunters had learned that the hard way, choosing to take their limited victories in small skirmishes as genuine experience, and the heady mixture of pride and naivete was something they were often unable to overcome before it was far too late.
She surveyed the unlikely trio with a harsh eye, focusing on each of them in turn, before focusing on Conrad. Her eyes narrowed, to barely visible slits, and the vitriol in the air was almost palpable for a second before she looked onwards, as if he weren't there, staring directly through him. She pointed her crossbow at the tower and gave Cipher a little nudge with her right foot. He stepped forward one pace, Glyph pivoted her upper body around, and brought her crossbow to what remained of the wreckage of the roof. There was normally a satisfying 'click' with gunshots, a bang to let you know that the bullet had been fired and that death was imminent. All Glyph's weapons gave off when the bolt of energy was fired was a brief flash of light, and most often that was followed by an inhuman screech.
The one remaining demon in the building fell to the floor, a hole through its head, and Glyph moved forwards again, strutting past the three Hunters as she sought to leave the building. She was keenly aware of all of their positions, years of experience manifesting as a 'sixth sense', almost, as she left the building. She was sure some of them would have something to say, or something to do, but she was here to teach them one quintessential fact about the hunt: Actions spoke louder than words, and if all they had was talk, the demons would eat them alive. What Bryn had done was brave, yes, but it was also foolish. Those wounds made her slower, and though there were other hunters around, that slowness would one day get her killed. She was not without redeeming qualities - talent could be seen at a glance - but the Hunt was a crucible in which its participants were tempered or reduced to ash. It would be a shame to see a promising newblood fall so early.
The man that she had glared at was familiar. Not because of his face, or his sword, or his deeds - but there was an energy that surrounded him that she knew marked him as being a loose strand in the tapestry of her past: It was the same energy that her own weapons and stilettos produced. Those who were trained in the art of inscribing crystals were very far and very few between - and with her father's disgrace she had imagined that she was the last one participating in the Hunt. To feel that same energy in another person was a little shocking, but it made her more angry than curious - the legacy of the Laurent name was supposed to die with her when she left the capital all those years ago. If it had found a way to continue, investigating it would be her first port of call after this hunt.
Shienvien
Not a Sayan
Simply Not Real
Ohm
Lunafreya Miku
erikh
