((Hey! First rp on here, lets rock this. And please, no *asterisk* conversation. Thanks!))
Shik, shik The whetstone sliding against the blade in a rhythmic pattern. An old habit as the Huntress waited for the passage of time to hurry along. It was never on her side, a tick of the clock that seemed to take hours. Leaving her alone to think as she waited. Always waiting, waiting for the sun to fall. The monsters come out in the dark, and so did she.
"He who fights with monsters should look to it that he himself does not become a monster. And if you gaze long into an abyss, the abyss also gazes into you. Wise words Nietzsche. Wiser than most know." she mumbled to herself, looking up to the coloured strike across the horizon. Blues that faded into the flames of reds, oranges, and yellows til the darkest purple and black overtook them. Turning the hot morn, into a frozen night as she sat perched on a craggy outlook over the Goergus Ravine. Her eyes gazed up onto the falling sun, the rising stars; a faded jade that reflected the little lights to create the stars in the glassy orbs.
Shik, shik, shik Yes, time took too long to rest the sun, and when it fell the ravine was filled with the night. The shrieks, screams, howls, and cries of the rift of monsters that haunted the area. The Huntress would not venture down there, she wasn't foolish. Even an army would fail to take the ravine, but she guarded to make sure nothing left it. Some feared it to be the entrance to the underworld, Cassandra van Helsing knew better. It was merely the best place to hide from the sun. Now she had them, and none would get out on her watch.
Standing tall in the black leather armour, her gloves in a pocket as she gripped the freshly sharpened blade. The dark brown hair falling all the way down past her hips in its heavy braid. At moments like this, people often mention how beautiful the hero is. How her hair moves in the wind, or the curve of her hips. But Cassandra was not beautiful. Her lips curved into a cruel smirk, her hips while curved stood straight as her strides began to the ravine's closest entrance. The closest, cowardly monsters fled as they saw her, the ravaged left cheek her identifier. No, she was not pretty but dangerous. Her eyes narrowed at the glowing ones in the dark; the runic hands sparked and glowed softly, electricity arcing from rune to rune.
"Alright. Who wants to go first?"
Shik, shik The whetstone sliding against the blade in a rhythmic pattern. An old habit as the Huntress waited for the passage of time to hurry along. It was never on her side, a tick of the clock that seemed to take hours. Leaving her alone to think as she waited. Always waiting, waiting for the sun to fall. The monsters come out in the dark, and so did she.
"He who fights with monsters should look to it that he himself does not become a monster. And if you gaze long into an abyss, the abyss also gazes into you. Wise words Nietzsche. Wiser than most know." she mumbled to herself, looking up to the coloured strike across the horizon. Blues that faded into the flames of reds, oranges, and yellows til the darkest purple and black overtook them. Turning the hot morn, into a frozen night as she sat perched on a craggy outlook over the Goergus Ravine. Her eyes gazed up onto the falling sun, the rising stars; a faded jade that reflected the little lights to create the stars in the glassy orbs.
Shik, shik, shik Yes, time took too long to rest the sun, and when it fell the ravine was filled with the night. The shrieks, screams, howls, and cries of the rift of monsters that haunted the area. The Huntress would not venture down there, she wasn't foolish. Even an army would fail to take the ravine, but she guarded to make sure nothing left it. Some feared it to be the entrance to the underworld, Cassandra van Helsing knew better. It was merely the best place to hide from the sun. Now she had them, and none would get out on her watch.
Standing tall in the black leather armour, her gloves in a pocket as she gripped the freshly sharpened blade. The dark brown hair falling all the way down past her hips in its heavy braid. At moments like this, people often mention how beautiful the hero is. How her hair moves in the wind, or the curve of her hips. But Cassandra was not beautiful. Her lips curved into a cruel smirk, her hips while curved stood straight as her strides began to the ravine's closest entrance. The closest, cowardly monsters fled as they saw her, the ravaged left cheek her identifier. No, she was not pretty but dangerous. Her eyes narrowed at the glowing ones in the dark; the runic hands sparked and glowed softly, electricity arcing from rune to rune.
"Alright. Who wants to go first?"
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