When is a monster not a monster?
Oh, when you love it.
Messenger

Age: 28 | Height: 5'0" | Race: Attuned x Abandoned | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Hollowed Grounds
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#1
{Image: D1IEw1q.png}
ASHE

he was something solid
to lean against.

( nearly 3 years ago )


   The Assassin in Blue had made it three miles across the city now, and her limbs were fucking burning. Her ankles barked in protest as she touched down on a stone rooftop, but she didn't lause for a second. Already she was heading for the ledge, brilliant blue eyes shadowed by a solid black mask narrowing on the next rooftop. Her muscles coiled, she vaulted over the ledge, there was the moment of suspension with a royal blue cloak fluttering quietly behind her -

   Her hands grabbed ahold of scaffolding and she hauled herself up in the next moment. With a quick glance over her shoulder, the assassin was off and running again. A number of guard had caught sight of the infamous killer in her dash from the center of the capital, but she was uncatchable, untouchable... unless of course it was Silver Wing hot on her heels. A breathless smirk flickered under her mask as she moved, a wraith of darkness and rich blue in the dying light of day, her counterpart of shadow and silver surely not far behind.

   Every year her birthday started the same: she was allowed a brief breakfast with her father, and then the day was spent in her assessment. She demonstrated her textbook and technical knowledge privately to the other seniors and their Master, and then with the fall of the sun the real test. Always starting at least three miles from the Keep, she was to make it back for her spectated combat display before the sun set entirely. Of course.. someone was always chasing her. For her seventeenth birthday? It was her former teacher she was evading.

   The Keep was in sight, still at least half a mile away, and she distantly wondered what was in store for her this year - she never knew until she walked through the training arena doors. She didn't have the time to truly consider it of course. She cast a quick look behind her before she leaped from another roof, kicking off of one wall to push her up to the next taller roof so she could pull herself with a sharp hiss of stubborn effort. She hadn't failed an assessment yet, and she sure as fuck wasn't going to now. She didn't let herself imagine what would happen should she fail.

something violent and fierce
and unmoving
{Image: 30W9xzb.png}
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Kalt Ravenshire
Medic / Alchemist

Age: 38 | Height: 6’ 1” | Race: Abandoned | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Hollowed Grounds
Level: 3 - Strg: 9 - Dext: 24 - Endr: 12 - Luck: 6 - Int:
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#2
{Image: 1FVXbNn.png}
KALT

He was her dark fairytale
She was his twisted fantasy

   To say that he wasn’t enjoying himself would be a plain lie. Regardless of whether or not he actually enjoyed the assessments themselves, any chance to train with Ashetta - and with an audience to show off for - was something he could never turn down.

   The warm-up evasion exercise was something that they had taken part in multiple times, and the fact that they had equally perfect memories gave neither an advantage when it came to navigating the layout of the city. In the fading light, his uniform because the ideal camouflage, while hers... Well, a royal blue cloak wasn’t exactly the easiest to hide, but flash was her thing, and he wasn’t about to dig into that argument again.

   His steps were silent, breath steady, though his heart was racing a mile a minute. Clear eyes peered from beneath his hood at the Keep in the distance, and though he didn’t want to break his line of sight to the girl, he did know a shortcut to fuck with her a little bit.

   Leaping from a roof to a below awning, the assassin flipped smoothly to the ground and took off in a sprint once again. He ran beneath a joined roof and found the construction site of a new gods-only-knew-and-he-didn’t-care. Kicking off a partially finished wall, he reached a poorly balanced beam and held on tightly as it started to fall. He pushed off just before it hit the nearby roof, and landed in a flawless roll, getting to his feet with ease.

   Kalt looked over his shoulder to try to spy the Assassin in Blue with a wicked smirk beneath his handkerchief. This might be her assessment, but she was out of her mind if she thought he would go even slightly easy on her, especially in the warm-ups!

And together
They made magic
{Image: 9Ioojgf.png}
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Messenger

Age: 28 | Height: 5'0" | Race: Attuned x Abandoned | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Hollowed Grounds
Level: 7 (lvl 3 Attuned) - Strg: 10 - Dext: 27 - Endr: 19 - Luck: 14 - Int:
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#3
{Image: D1IEw1q.png}
ASHE

he was something solid
to lean against.

   The moment gray-clad assassin appeared just a few rooftops ahead, Ashe had a savage grin on that no one could see. Technically he was supposed to stop her from reaching the Keep on time, but sometime around a mile ago the tone of their game had changed. Now? Now it had become a race.

   Fire-blue eyes remained fixed on the familiar shape of Kalt, not glancing down as she cleared a considerable gap and tucked into a roll upon the next rooftop. People below softly cried out in alarm, one or two recognized the blue cloak paired with the smooth mask, but she didn't pause for a moment. Her infamy was as integral as her skill - the reputation of the Assassin in Blue is the reputation of the Guild, Master would tell her.. and she would be lying if the gasps below didn't give her a thrill.

   It felt like forever, but it was only mere heartbeats that passed before she ran adjacent to Kalt, and she abruptly changed her direction. Ashe threw herself cross the gap of a wide street - too far to clear - and her gloved hands expertly gripped a bolted flagpole. The metal groaned at the sudden swing of weight, but she released it before it could give. In the next moment she swung herself around the corner to the avenue Kalt would be racing over, fingers grabbing tightly to the rooftop and hauling her up.

   They shared no words, no expressions, but she knew his heart was racing as quickly as hers was. The same way he'd know she was grinning when she'd appear beside him and move to dart ahead of him, a thin blade flicking free and sweeping for his leg. It would miss, but the point was to break his stride. Fuck him if he thought he'd beat her in her own assessment! She'd show him exactly why they were rivals and not simply student and teacher anymore.
something violent and fierce
and unmoving
{Image: 30W9xzb.png}
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Kalt Ravenshire
Medic / Alchemist

Age: 38 | Height: 6’ 1” | Race: Abandoned | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Hollowed Grounds
Level: 3 - Strg: 9 - Dext: 24 - Endr: 12 - Luck: 6 - Int:
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#4
{Image: 1FVXbNn.png}
KALT

He was her dark fairytale
She was his twisted fantasy

   The gasps and shouts that came from below might have given Ashetta a thrill or whatever, but for Kalt it was the opposite. Her infamy was essential to her, but his anonymity was essential to him. Hence why she wore a beacon and he was as camouflaged as possible.

   He knew she couldn’t see the grin he gave her, but he felt hers as she appeared beside him. Her blade slid free and swiped at his leg, and he was forced into a two-handed vault, rather than his smoother single-handed move. It wasn’t the end of the world, but it wasn’t his preferred way of keeping ahead of her.

   ”Watch it, ya shit!” He breathed. ”Fight don’t start til you’re back at the Keep!”

   She might not have known it, but her seventeenth birthday would be spent almost entirely with him. Oh yeah... Her assessment this year was against him, but he decided it would be more fun to let that be a surprise for her. With how vicious the assessments were, he always felt that it was easier to just jump into it without any real plans. Or he was an asshole. Either was possible.

   Winning the assessment was still up in the air. Those were dangerous and bloodthirsty, much more so than their training sessions, so either one of them could come out on top. One thing was certain though... He was fucking winning this race. If not for his pride, than for his dramatic entrance in the Keep.

   Kalt’s map of the capital went up in his mind, and he plotted the quickest possible course. Tossing a quick wink to Ashe, whether she saw it or not, he leapt down to a balcony, waving to a slack-jawed little boy with a dog inside and disappearing into an alleyway.

And together
They made magic
{Image: 9Ioojgf.png}
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Messenger

Age: 28 | Height: 5'0" | Race: Attuned x Abandoned | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Hollowed Grounds
Level: 7 (lvl 3 Attuned) - Strg: 10 - Dext: 27 - Endr: 19 - Luck: 14 - Int:
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#5
{Image: D1IEw1q.png}
ASHE

he was something solid
to lean against.

   Ashe huffed a breathless laugh at his muffled voice, eyes gleaming - the only part of her he could see. ”Does the fight ever stop?” she shot back with her voice warped by the mask, throwing herself over a ledge to keep pace with him as he made to move ahead.

   The evening was late despite the shining gold that lined the collosal capital city as the sun made its last leg for the horizon. Born on the longest day of the year made it convenient for Master to fit in everything required to prove her worth once again, assessed and judged and weighed to determine just how much he could charge clients for her and what sort of contracts she could accept. Every year her worth increased with her killing prowess, and this year would be no different. Starting with beating both Kalt and the gathering night back to the Keep.

   The assassin huffed at his wink before he disappeared down the side of the building, down where it was harder to keep track of him. Bastard. She didn’t follow his same path, tracking his progress until he vanished while she continued upon rooftops. Sweat dripped down her back with the summer heat in her head-to-toe black uniform, but she didn’t slow for a moment. Though she fantasized about throwing herself into one of the courtyard fountains back at the Keep.

   Ashe knew the shortest route back to the Keep that loomed closer and closer now, the sun was sinking dangerously low.. she frowned and redoubled her efforts. No matter that she'd lost sight of Kalt for now - she needed to get home, and she needed to beat him there.

   When she arrived precisely on time, it took all of her self control not to plunge into one of the fountain pools as she strode by them, sun at her back at the massive doors of the Keep to her front. She didn't break her swaying stride, head high and shoulders back as she slowly caught her breath. Her legs felt like rubber beneath her, shoulders and fingers and forearms aching from her vaults and climbs, and fuck she needed water, but she kept a straight path inside. She was the Assassin in Blue after all, and she had a reputation to uphold.

   The heart of the Assassin's Keep was silent and seemingly empty as per usual, unlike the west wing where the lesser assassins resided. No one offered her water or was there to see her, Kalt included, but she kept her steps silent within the stone foyer, into the carpeted corridors. From the decor to the architecture, every inch of the Keep bespoke of power and luxury. Monsters lurked these halls, of course, and this one was eager to get this done so she could go and have some fucking water.

   Ashe didn't pause when she reached the arena - different from their sand floor and glass ceiling training room. Beyond the doors, the interior was a mixture of shadow and light. She entered a giant chamber flanked by red-painted pillars that supported the mezzanine on either side. A glance into the darker shadows of the balcony revealed figures lurking within - watching. Waiting for her to prove how much money she could be worth. They certainly weren’t underestimating her. Good.

   A path of glossy marble tile lead towards the dias at the end of the large room - built for large scale training clinics and for spectated assessments alike. Atop that dias, standing tall with his shoulders back, was the Master of Assassins. She could discern nothing from him beneath that expressionless, dark mask, no emotion, no show of pride or expectancy. She was used to this by now. She kept her chin held high as she approached him, following the tile path in the floor like she had done nine times before. Sweat trickled down her spine. Whatever playfulness that had been alive for her race with Silver Wing hardened.

   Ashe forced herself not to look for her father's face in the room as she halted before the dias, standing at perfect attention before the masked man. There would be no rehearsed speech this year, thank the forgotten gods, but she wondered what was in store for her. She didn't dare move, not until Master did and began her challenge. Last year it had been four men, the year before that had been had been a blindfold and consecutive opponents, three of which ended up dead - she never knew until the moment they began. Master's mask tilted down at her, arms folded behind his back as he cocked his head. She ignored the ice prickling in her veins. He was a predator assessing his prey.

   And so in the deafening silence of the room and all eyes upon her, the Assassin in Blue waited.
something violent and fierce
and unmoving
{Image: 30W9xzb.png}
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Kalt Ravenshire
Medic / Alchemist

Age: 38 | Height: 6’ 1” | Race: Abandoned | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Hollowed Grounds
Level: 3 - Strg: 9 - Dext: 24 - Endr: 12 - Luck: 6 - Int:
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#6
{Image: 1FVXbNn.png}
KALT

He was her dark fairytale
She was his twisted fantasy

   Kalt arrived at the Keep before Ashe did. Why? Well, simple... He cheated. Although, he wouldn’t exactly call it cheating. More like... Making the best use of creative advantages. What advantages were those? Well, his secret magic, duh. A little alteration to his boots and each stride he took was basically doubled in distance, so of fucking course he was going to beat her there!

   He arrived in the courtyard and relaxed his breathing, knowing he had about a minute, probably less, to spare before Ashe entered. His eyes locked on his Master’s mask, and there was no exchange between the two, as he walked into the shadows to prepare himself for the fight to come.

   Assessments were brutal, dangerous, sometimes even fatal. He knew that he wouldn’t kill Ashe, and he knew she wouldn’t kill him. For one, they were too close in skill for an easy kill, but also they were both all the other truly had. Neither would risk losing that. He sure as shit wouldn’t, no matter what happened.

   As Ashe entered the arena, Kalt lowered to a crouch, his elbows resting on his knees and his eyes watching her carefully. She approached Master, and a part of him tensed. It was involuntary, and any time he tried to stop it, he failed. He got to his feet when Master’s mask turned in his direction.

   The single nod of the expressionless mask was all Silver Wing needed to tell him that it was time. He walked on silent steps out of the shadows, blades freed with the flick of his wrists, and he swiped them together, creating a few sparks as he walked the glossy pathway to the dias and joined the Assassin in Blue for her assessment.

   She would’ve put together what was going to happen the moment he stepped out of the shadows. He stood beside her, dwarfing her in size, and likely making the upcoming display just that much more impressive. The Guild’s two most elite to face off against each other... He couldn’t claim nonchalance because his nerves were firing, adrenaline rushing through him, eager to get this moving.

   As soon as Master would give them the floor, Silver Wing would face the Assassin in Blue and give her a hidden grin she would only see in his eyes. This was her assessment. She made the first move.

And together
They made magic
{Image: 9Ioojgf.png}
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Messenger

Age: 28 | Height: 5'0" | Race: Attuned x Abandoned | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Hollowed Grounds
Level: 7 (lvl 3 Attuned) - Strg: 10 - Dext: 27 - Endr: 19 - Luck: 14 - Int:
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#7
{Image: D1IEw1q.png}
ASHE

he was something solid
to lean against.

   The Master of Assassins said nothing to her as she stood dutifully before him, her heart racing despite her outward calm. She didn't move until he turned her attention to the shadows beneath a mezzanine, turning to look and… fuck. She swallowed as Kalt approached, his blades singing together with a shower of sparks. Show off.

   As he stepped up beside her, her eyes lingered on him for only a moment before she turned to look back at their Master. How in the five hells did he make it back before her? Her twinge of irritation didn't last long, it couldn't. Master tilted his mask down at her, glancing at Kalt, and the reality if her assessment set in. Facing off with Silver Wing in training was one thing, their impromptu sparring and score-settling tussles, but this… There would be no teaching here. This was win or die. Not that they would ever kill each other, gods, no... still, this was no game.

   Master looked between them, and she felt no sense of relief as he stepped back and left his two elite to each other. He didn't need to speak any command, they both knew what his silence meant here: begin.

   Ashe looked up at Kalt as he turned to face her, and she shifted her exhausted body to ready with a grim set to her shoulders. Her blades concealed in her sleeves flicked free with a hiss of steel, and the female assassin didn't miss the crinkle at the corners of crystal-clear blue eyes. A hidden one flickered briefly on her own face, but the silence was growing thicker, the moments heavier - the quiet before the hellstorm.

   The Assassin in Blue didn't waste any more time. She darted forward with fluid speed, heart throwing itself ahead of her as one of her blades swept mercilessly towards his throat in a time and time again practiced maneuver. Her lip feathered, hoping judging that he would either dodge or block the upper blow, leaving his lower half wide open. Wide open to her followup strike: her second blade aiming to bite deeply into his knee and hamstring.
something violent and fierce
and unmoving
{Image: 30W9xzb.png}
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Kalt Ravenshire
Medic / Alchemist

Age: 38 | Height: 6’ 1” | Race: Abandoned | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Hollowed Grounds
Level: 3 - Strg: 9 - Dext: 24 - Endr: 12 - Luck: 6 - Int:
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#8
{Image: 1FVXbNn.png}
KALT

He was her dark fairytale
She was his twisted fantasy

   There was a silent conversation between the pair, something that likely only Orynth would actually pick up on the meaning of, but the two assassins promises themselves to each other before and that was still true in that moment. They would draw blood in this fight, that would practically a given. Assessments… He dreaded them in general, but going up against Ashe in something this extreme wasn’t something he was overly eager for. But it was happening.

   As soon as Ashe moved forward, Kalt stepped back easily, dodging her throat-aimed swipe fluidly, thankfully with enough momentum to swing his legs away in a backwards handspring. Instantly he was back on his feet and in fighting position, a bloodlust in his eyes that they both knew so well.

   Once again, his blades flicked out from his bracers, and he lunged towards her. Practiced rhythm with no predictability. The lesson he had drilled into her mind since they began their training years ago. His hidden blade swiped towards her arm, and his other hand pulled free a knife from his belt. Immediately following came a strike towards her abdomen, hoping to slice upwards diagonally across her midsection.

And together
They made magic
{Image: 9Ioojgf.png}
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Messenger

Age: 28 | Height: 5'0" | Race: Attuned x Abandoned | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Hollowed Grounds
Level: 7 (lvl 3 Attuned) - Strg: 10 - Dext: 27 - Endr: 19 - Luck: 14 - Int:
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#9
{Image: D1IEw1q.png}
ASHE

he was something solid
to lean against.

   It didn't matter that she knew she wouldn't touch him so soon, her lip still feathered in irritation when he swept out of her reach and left her blade cutting through open air. The female assassin didn't let him go far in his retreat, following immediately after him and keeping a careful eye on his momentum. It was his eyes she found as he righted himself before she reached him, glinting with a mirror image of what began thrumming in her veins. Bloodlust was never far, ready to roar to the surface when they needed it. As Kalt came for her again, Ashe handed herself over to it with a savage grin beneath her mask. She would have his blood tonight, she promised herself, shoving away the parts of her that might cry out in protest.

   His first strike came for her arm, an easy blow to dip away from. She flipped her blade to slip into his guard, but a new knife appeared in his hand for his next strike. A snap decision was made: Ashe angled her body to create a smaller target, but she accepted the slash. Her muscles tensed briefly at the fire that lit as steel ripped into her uniform and dragged into her skin, but she made no sound. It bit deep enough to send ruby red spattering to marble, but she avoided being gutted.

   In choosing to take the hit with her quarter turn and keep him close, she acted against him without even pausing at the wound. His arm shot past, and she moved to grab it by the wrist and bicep, aiming for locking and twisting his arm. She used his momentum against him and she whirled him around with a soft growl of effort. Her heart was thudding powerfully as she would release him, transitioning into a blindingly quick maneuver that would send her blade cutting deeply into his back.
something violent and fierce
and unmoving
{Image: 30W9xzb.png}
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Kalt Ravenshire
Medic / Alchemist

Age: 38 | Height: 6’ 1” | Race: Abandoned | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Hollowed Grounds
Level: 3 - Strg: 9 - Dext: 24 - Endr: 12 - Luck: 6 - Int:
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#10
{Image: 1FVXbNn.png}
KALT

He was her dark fairytale
She was his twisted fantasy

    He knew that she would avoid the slash to her arm, but that was meant as a distraction anyway. The real attack was to her abdomen, and he grinned savagely at the satisfaction of drawing first blood, but that satisfaction was cut short at her soundless movement.

   First blood was what they fought to in training, but this wasn’t training. No, this was to the ‘kill,’ and he wasn’t going to let the pleasure at drawing her blood cloud his mind.

   He felt her lock his arm, but he didn’t let it happen for long. He moved into the whirl smoothly. The second she released him, he didn’t try to regain his balance. Silver Wing immediately ducked to the ground, her blade missing him by a hair. His heart thundered in his chest, breathing difficult to focus on, but almost two decades of training made it second nature.

   He ducked into a crouch, bracing himself on the ground quickly and swiping his leg towards hers to throw her off balance. If he succeeded, he would grab her cloak and yank it backwards, hard.

   The assassin got to his feet again and brought his leg to the side, aiming to jam it into the back of her knee. His arm extended then to swipe his blade against her inner thigh.

And together
They made magic
{Image: 9Ioojgf.png}
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Messenger

Age: 28 | Height: 5'0" | Race: Attuned x Abandoned | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Hollowed Grounds
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#11
{Image: D1IEw1q.png}
ASHE

he was something solid
to lean against.

   Maybe Silver Wing had taken first blood, but the kill would be hers. She didn't react as he avoided her blade again - this was normal between them. Their sparring matches often lasted much longer than an average fight. They were full of fire and hunger, but they were not bloodthirsty. She was fighting for her very worth, fighting to maintain her hard-won position at the top… fighting for what might as well have been her life. Because if she wasn't the best of the best, what would she be worth to the Master of Assassins? The very thought sent a fire of motivation raging in her blood. Her position and reputation protected her, and she would not release it.

   Ashe danced easily away from his sweeping leg, but he grabbed a firm hold of her cloak and yanked her back. He tsked that cloak time and time again, but it was her beacon and her calling card. If hadn't learned to deal with exactly this, she would have been dead a thousand times over.

   With his hold on her cloak, she didn't fight his violent guidance in bringing her to the ground. She half growled at the impact to the back of her knee that buckled her leg, but it brought him close. Ashe snapped around as she went down, twisting her leg from him and curling into him, striking an elbow up to hit his jaw with a flipped blade slashing for his chest.
something violent and fierce
and unmoving
{Image: 30W9xzb.png}
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Kalt Ravenshire
Medic / Alchemist

Age: 38 | Height: 6’ 1” | Race: Abandoned | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Hollowed Grounds
Level: 3 - Strg: 9 - Dext: 24 - Endr: 12 - Luck: 6 - Int:
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#12
{Image: 1FVXbNn.png}
KALT

He was her dark fairytale
She was his twisted fantasy

   The close proximity fucked him a little bit, giving her an easy opportunity to use her size and speed to pull one over on him. Her elbow collided with his jaw, and he knew that was going to be a nasty bruise by the way his vision blurred for just a moment.

   He stepped back to regain his balance, gripping his blade tightly, but he felt a red-hot burn over his chest. Their blades were razor sharp, and it took him until he felt warmth dripping down his chest to realize that her slice had torn open his uniform and skin. His skin would heal, but he really didn’t feel like stitching his uniform again.

   Silver Wing huffed through his nose, not remembering when it was that he had dropped his blade. When she elbowed him? Probably…

   Another blade flicked out of his other bracer, and he darted forward again, his blade swung towards her neck. His second one swung towards her arms. Both distractions. He stepped forward and turned smoothly in a roundhouse aimed for her chest.

And together
They made magic
{Image: 9Ioojgf.png}
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Messenger

Age: 28 | Height: 5'0" | Race: Attuned x Abandoned | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Hollowed Grounds
Level: 7 (lvl 3 Attuned) - Strg: 10 - Dext: 27 - Endr: 19 - Luck: 14 - Int:
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#13
{Image: D1IEw1q.png}
ASHE

he was something solid
to lean against.

   It was with savage triumph that her elbow connected, her blade too. Red stained his chest as he moved back from her, and she righted het position quickly. The pain pulsing from her abdomen was like a drum that reverberated into her with a hunger for more. Drawing his blood was not enough, this needed to end. Even aside from the vicious hunger blazing in her chest, if this went on much longer, the spectators would grow bored. Potential clients or repeat contractors, all of them, and she couldn't afford to lose a single one.

   She didn't block the blade for her throat despite the flare of panic at impending death - she remembered well the last time steel met her neck - and instead turned so her side faced Kalt. She dipped forward, batting aside his second blade with the ring and clash of metal. Her forward movement send it slicing against her gloved knuckles, the fabric doing little to shield the thin skin from being split open. Only her forward momentum to keep him within her modest reach saved the tendons of her fingers.

   Then he spun for a roundhouse kick, the world slowed, she caught the glint of a knife upon the ground, and Ashe grinned. She bent back to avoid his boot to her chest, grunting against the stretch of her wound as she kept moving and dipped below his leg and forward. How many times had Kalt caught one of her kicks, dipped around it, drove his blade into her and reminded her how easy it was for someone with his reach to deal with kicks from someone as small as her? She didn't flip her own knife at him of course - she kept moving in the opposite direction of the way he had kicked - swept down - snatched up his blade - snapped around to face his exposed side - jab his own knife down -

   The blade sank down deeply into flesh within the span of seconds. Her heart lurched distantly as she ripped the blade free with a shower of blood from just above Kalt's hip, but she didn't wait. Her boot followed her momentum and slammed down to the back of his knee on his opposite side. The moment he would go down, her arms locked around his neck, knife pressed hard enough against his throat to draw blood, to end it and prove she was worthy. But she stilled, her arm tensing as she halted the kill with the side of her head pressed to Kalt’s. She didn't look to Master yet, or to her watchers, not to anyone.

   ”Dead,” she crooned breathlessly so that only he could hear.
something violent and fierce
and unmoving
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Kalt Ravenshire
Medic / Alchemist

Age: 38 | Height: 6’ 1” | Race: Abandoned | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Hollowed Grounds
Level: 3 - Strg: 9 - Dext: 24 - Endr: 12 - Luck: 6 - Int:
KYSMA - Mythical - Unicorn (Superspeed)
Played by: Sage Offline
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Posts: 202 | Total: 698
MP: 345
#14
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KALT

He was her dark fairytale
She was his twisted fantasy

   A hiss of pain escaped him, as Ashe drove his blade - insult to injury there - into his skin. He hadn’t been expecting that move. Hells, he had never even seen her use it before, so to have it come out of fucking nowhere was admittedly impressive. As her teacher, he always wanted her to surpass him, but as her rival, he couldn’t help the bitter taste it left in his mouth. Of course at that moment, the only taste he had in his mouth was blood. Apparently she had cracked his tooth when her elbow hit his jaw.

   Her foot connected with the back of his knee, and she wasted no time in putting the blade to his throat. He felt his side splitting from the steady throb that pulsated through his abdomen. She tore into one of his kidneys without a doubt, and he knew enough about anatomy to know that with the size of that size, yeah...he had some internal bleeding to take care of.

   ”Fuck off,” he spat quietly. If it had been a sparring match, he would have continued the fight. Would have flipped her over his shoulder and gotten the advantage, but if it was a real scenario in the field, he wouldn’t have even gotten the chance to do so. He knew he lost, and his lip feathered with irritation at that.

   Master approached once again, his faceless mask showing no hint of approval or disappointment or anything. Something about that irritated Kalt even more than the fact that he lost. Such a display of virtual disinterest from his f… from his Master. They were both dismissed with minimal attention, directed to get themselves cleaned up or whatever, and Master would likely remain there to address the spectators or whatever. Kalt didn’t care. Wasn’t like that was his future anymore anyway, so he didn’t really have to care, did he?

   As soon as they were out of the arena, Kalt threw back his hood and pulled his handkerchief down, bracing himself momentarily on the wall and stuffing his gloves in his pocket. He turned with a grimace, seeing dark red staining the side of his uniform. She definitely hit a bad spot, but he would take care of it as soon as he was in private.

   He peered at her out of the corner of his eye and lifted a brow with a slight glare. ”You stabbed me, asshole,” he muttered.

And together
They made magic
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