A Mirror and incipid reflectshons

And while you are sitting indoors
waiting for the storm to pass
I will be outside dancing in the rain

❧

Numbers.
They were doing this for numbers. Well, more like their leader was doing this for the numbers. Why? She didn't know, could care less actually. If she had explained to them the reason Astrid hadn't been listening. All that mattered to her was that she got to beat people up. Ooh, maybe murder someone too. That'd be nice.

At Kakuma's order the assassin placed her arms behind her head lazily, red eyes blinking dully as she cast a glance towards the cat woman, muttering a "whatever" before beginning to walk towards the center of the city.
She wasn't doing this for some numbers. She was doing this for sport. Killing off these impostors would be like hunting deer in the middle of a field full of flowers. If she got numbers while doing it, good. Maybe she could cash them in for little prizes later on.
Now that she thought about it, maybe it as more like on of those little arcade games instead of hunting. Get enough heads, win a bear plush or something. Though in the end she was hoping for much more than a useless stuffed toy to hang on her wall.
Besides, the concept of getting to kill herself was pretty fun. There could only be one Astrid Foss after all, and that was her.
She just hoped the alternate her wasn't a weak crybaby, otherwise that'd just ruin the fun. Fighting someone equal to you proved so much more than making a stupid baby bleed.

The mage chose a decent spot atop of one of the many houses inside the city, climbing her way up the bricked wall steadily before shuffling herself on to the side of the roof, sitting up in a crouched position, centering her weight on both legs to hold her up. Her hard look studied the gray, motionless city, lips pursed in a frown.
The game began.

322 words ● @everyone ● notes

Perched upon one of the many rooftops, a frilly-haired mage rest, a bottle in one hand and a brush in the other. He took a long swig from the jar of alcohol, downing nearly half of it in a single go, and looking slightly disappointed. Setting the bottle down, he'd shakily move the brush, combing his fingers through his hair with his empty had and pulling it over his shoulder. Despite how grungy and beggar-ish he looked, Marschal was a man who knew how to keep himself well groomed in spite. The brush raggedly drew through his hair, tearing out the snarls that had once laid claim to his hair as it being their home. Occasionally, a growl emitted from his throat as he ran the brush through an especially hard snarl, working it out slowly. Marschy breathed in deeply, then set the brush down at his side and took another swig of the bottle of alcohol resting next to him.

As he went to pick the brush up again, he barely noticed the stench of blood reach his nostrils, and when he did, he set the brush back down. Curiously, the young man slid down from his place on the rooftop, landing harshly, but on his two feet, when he hit. Pursing his lips, he flicked his hair back over his shoulder and sauntered down the streets of Lavintir Port City. Closing his eyes, the felinistic male breathed in deeply, taking in the luxurious scent of blood that he had come accustom to. His eyes cracked open, the pupils showing to be dilated to slits, and he followed the smell like a hound chasing a rabbit. Things here appeared to be much more different than when he had last seen them. . . if he could recall last seeing them. Unfortunately, a knock to the head and a bit of unfamiliar alcohol had caused Marschal to lose most of his memories.

Falling to all fours now, the mage picked up his pace and reached the chaotic destination in which the smell had brought him. His upper half drew upward, his nose reaching outward, once again drawing in the tainted scent of blood on the air. He ran his tongue over his lips and for a moment, he craved the taste of it on his tongue, only to realize that this was human blood. As much as he loved the taste and smell of it, humans were not creatures that he was capable of eating without remorse. In fact, he would much rather fuck one of them than eat them. . . or perhaps fuck them first, then eat them depending on how he felt. For the most part though, he simply liked leaving people in a state of ecstasy whenever he happened to be around them. Flicking his ears forward, Marschal listened intently for what would be the sound of the next victim, though nothing seemed to come.

And while you are sitting indoors
waiting for the storm to pass
I will be outside dancing in the rain

❧

Of course she had known Ruminal was following her. Since he had no means of hiding his presence whatsoever he stuck out like a sore thumb against the gray, dull city. Did she care? Not really, obvious by her not calling him out or attacking him by now. She wasn’t stupid. She knew doing anything to their leader’s one and only son would lead to some very undesirable consequences. No matter how much it annoyed her to have a little creature following her everywhere she went, she couldn’t do anything about it. He was there to stay, for whatever reason.
As she dug her shoes more into the tiled roof Astrid cast her crimson gaze backwards, blinking at the feline boy. He hadn’t said a word to her yet, nothing like what she imagined a normal child to be like. Shouldn’t he be yelling at the top of his lungs and drooling everywhere? He wasn’t normal.
What was his deal anyway? Why did he have to specifically follow her and act creepy? Why not someone else? The more she thought about it, the more it irritated her. She wanted to be left alone, to go about killing people by herself. She didn’t want extra baggage to worry about. Kakuma should really put him on a leash… Or whatever cats used.
Astrid let out a huff through her nose. “Oi, pipsqueak” she called over to him, her tone lazy. “I don’t give a shit why you’re so persistent on following me. Just don’t get in my way.” If she wasn’t going to get rid of him, the least she could do was warn him. If he made a wrong move on her she wasn’t afraid to cut him in half, no matter what Kakuma would end up doing to her as punishment. Just following her was fine, however if he planned on snatching up her catch or trying to kill her she would risk anything to stay alive, even if it was just for a little longer. Though with his size she doubted he could really do anything to her. Maybe bite at her ankles a bit.

“Help! My baby!” A high pitched shrill caught the assassin’s attention, making her flick her gaze back to the town. The calls continued as they echoed throughout the city, confusing Astrid slightly. Because of the echos she couldn’t get a direct location on where it was coming from. She would have to wait.
The calls stopped suddenly, the only sound being light footsteps.
After a moment of silence the woman appeared in the open space below her, tripping over herself as her shouts continued.
“My baby! She won’t move! Please help! Anyone!”
It was her chance. A smirk overtook her features as she climbed over the edge and jumped down, landing on her feet daintily right before the hysterical woman. The woman froze at first, like she was studying the assassin to make sure she was actually there before she spoke again.
“You!” she gasped, holding her hands over her mouth in surprised, realization laced in her eyes. “You’re that sweet violinist from the guild!”
Violinist? Sweet? She wasn’t any of those things… Astrid paused, tilting her head in confusion before it dawned on her. Ah, she was mistaking her for the alternative her. Oh man, how rich. She inwardly laughed. Her alternate self was a damn musician. And on top of that she was kind. Pathetic. She was probably frail too in that case. What a shame. It looked like if they ever did meet she could win with a single slice before the other her could even slide that little bow across the strings. A little disappointing but it couldn’t be helped.

Without letting her get a word in the woman grabbed both of Astrid’s shoulders tightly, staring into her eyes widely.
“Please you must help! My child she cannot move! In fact many people can’t move! This must be the work of ma-”
She was cut off by a hand stabbing through her stomach. Astrid’s dull expression brightened as she stared down at the woman, feeling her grip upon her shoulders loosen as her arms dropped back to her sides. Letting out weak chokes and cries before they became small gurgles the woman looked up to the mage, expression shocked.
A disgruntled hum emitting from Astrid’s lips she forcefully removed her arm from the lady’s body, causing it to fall to the ground with a small thud, red blood dripping from the wound quickly, pooling around the corpse. All life had left it.
Now she didn’t put much much of a fight, did she? It was her own fault. You didn’t touch someone so roughly, it could cause ‘accidents’. Blame it on human instincts, assassin training, or whatever you wanted.
Using a foot to force the neck to turn as she looked over her kill she spotted a number upon it. Ah yes, right, the mission. She had almost forgotten about it. Now, to carry this back somehow…
She could easily carry something like this back with no problem, but well, the blood traveling up her entire arm was getting quite messy, and it would be a shame if the blood somehow got on the number. An excuse for being lazy in all honesty… But she had someone else here. So she would take advantage of him however she could.
A bloodied hand resting on her jaw Astrid looked to Ruminal, offering a sickly sweet smile.

“Kitty? Would you be a dear and fetch that body? I’m afraid it’s awfully heavy for a delicate flower like me.” Since he didn’t do any of the killing, he could be her personal body wagon. It was only fair after all. He wasn’t following her just to look pretty. If he was going to stick by her he had to do his part.

979 words ● @ruminal ● notes