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tampered2007-09-11 09:19 pm
henkonasuisho.livejournal.com) wrote in tampered2007-09-11 09:19 pm
Log: Complete
When; Tuesday Night, Post Sunset
Rating; PG-13 for minor swearing and aerialace battling
Characters; Zaheela![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
henkonasuisho; Cirucci Thunderwitch thunderwitch
Summary; An Arrancar on the prowl... Dinner's aint got a clue
Log;
Cirucci Thunderwitch was hunting.
She was hungry again, she was always hungry, but she’d decided to try sating herself again, after the disastrous attempt that had been her last try at feeding herself. It was easy, to release, to go into that comforting that of being, the bones and steel, the pride, and the wind whistling by.
The Privaron scouted, idly gliding in ever widening circles as her senses stretched, narrowing and focusing on the spirit signatures she could feel. No, no, no…
There was one.
Smirk tugging at her lips, Cirucci dipped a wing joint, sideways in motion, zeroing in, moving without noise, landing quick on a building roof and letting her tail curl as she looked down at the signature she picked, eyes widening and mouth immediately twisting to a sneer. If it wasn’t…
“Special Sale ending in ONE HOUR! JUST ONE MORE HOUR FOLKS!!!!”
“Get Yer fresh produce here! Dirt cheap!”
“That’s MY DRESS YOU OLD HAG!”
“I AM THE SWORD OF THE CENNNNNTURRRRYYYYY”
“…Please, everyone, just shut up.”
Down below, the ‘prey’ in this game glowered at her watch, wriggling between busy shoppers and bellowing merchants (and it seemed one nutcase). As wonderful as modern technology was, there was times the feline like woman really, really detested it. The roar of the crowds and the blaring ‘music’, or at least the what they claimed it to be, was making Zaheela’s head pound. She couldn’t hear much of anything, her eyes stung from the acidic air, and her tail, longer now, was more ill-suited for this place then it had been before, being pulled on by curious hands and smashed by a flowerpot.
“Just 1 more hour… one more hour…” She chanted to herself, eyes focused on the ground, counting down the finite minutes before the medical department of the library reopened from it’s daily resorting, and she could escape this hellish crowds to get back to investigating the Medical profession of the modern work, it’s patterns and what to expect in preparation of applying for a ‘job’ within the city Hospital. Her eyes never once darted to the skyline as she managed to escape the wilds that were the markets.
The 105th had never been shy about people seeing her doing “bad” things. No, she never had cared. After all, most of the City knew who she was, anyway. Most of them hated her. Most of them knew to be afraid, to avoid her if they wanted to live.
And this woman… she hated this woman. She hated so much, so many, and she could hate forever, nurse a grudge forever. She’d hoped she’d gone, but to see her back… all that hatred surged back all the stronger.
She felt different but that didn’t matter, not when her wings snapped out, glinting in the sunlight, waiting for the moment her back was turned, the noise was loudest before diving off the roof, wings tucked in as she fell, a white blur, snapping them out last minute to glide, to rush over the crowds, talons extending, to pluck that detestable woman, Zaheela from the pack and begin once more to take to the sky.
It hit her like a ton of bricks, the impact and the disorientation, of being slammed, grabbed, and finally lifted by powerful wings made it easier for the arrancar to carry Zaheela into the sky. That is, until she had regained her bearings and realized just the hell had happened. Turning her head, she did the first thing, reached for one of the blades on her belt, only to find it missing. Quickly she reached for the other, and found it to be missing as well. Oh that’s right, she forgot that she had enemies, particularly sadistic ones, and left them both at home. A quick curse and she began to wriggle out of her jacket, the cloth allowing her a sort of lubrication to escape the death grip, only to fall straight downwards.
Peachy. The ground was so far below them and she panicked. Regardless of the idea that a cat would always land on her feet, she also appeared to be part human. Recalling briefly the numerous times that Cirucci had adopted ‘grab-and-drop’ tactics, she cursed again attempting to focus under the dangerous situation her magic and let it gather around her.
“FLOAT” A jerk, a stop, a sigh of relief. Then vivid green eyes snapped upwards to lock onto her kidnapper‘s.
“What in all of the realms do YOU want Cirucci?” She demanded of the undead woman, a growl of challenge, magic already sparking to life in-between her skilled hands.
“Why do you even have to ask, Zaheela~?” The Arrancar shrieked, her voice far too high-pitched, too avian like this, wings folding with the squeal of steel and diving back down after her quarry, lips split wide in an excited laugh that was lost to whipping wind.
“Surely you remember?” She was weaponless, that was a plus, only having to look out for that pesky magic and all that came with it, her tail curling and twisting behind her, the tell-tale glow of a charging attack in the steaming maw, talons unfurled to reach out and grab once more, too agile in the air, too quick.
Because Cirucci was too unpredictable when it came to mental sanity. Because she hadn’t bothered to remember the woman while back in her world. Because she was sure it was some petty reason. So many possible reasons, that’s for sure. The magic flared, pressing itself against her palms, begging to released.
“That you have inane and somewhat questionable dislike of me? Haven’t you gotten over that?!?” Zaheela felt her blood boil, before the shriek caused her to cringe as it hurt her ears. She only briefly caught what looked to be a sort of energy attack gathering at the end of that maw-like tail, before Cirucci dove. She blindly darted to the right at the last moment and released the magic into the air around her. It swirled outwards to curve into a bubble, encasing her in a special damage negating seal called Phalanx. The thin barrier would only stop so much damage though, and Zaheela knew she needed to get the hell away. She wasn’t keen on really finding out what the Thunderwitch was up to anyways.
Cirucci’s claws careened into the side of the bubble, scrabbling with the whining scrapes of hardened ivory against the phalanx. Lips twisted into a frown, the Arrancar’s eyes narrowed, pure violet darknening in anger.
“I hold grudges.” She hissed, the powerful burst of wings in the air propelling her back and away from the bubble shield, only to have the tail whip from behind, between long legs, and fire off the cero charging there, the maw opening with another shriek, louder, more high pitched screaming from that disconnected part of her, the glow erupting in a blast of power aimed straight for her.
The grating noise was like pure agony to her ears, and Zaheela had no time to react as the Cero exploded against her shield, decimating it before she could even get halfway through casting her stronger second layer of a protection and with an explosion it broke. Caught in the middle, the feline ‘staggered’ and lost her grip on the float spell, losing altitude slightly before regaining her hold on the levitation. Below them, the city dwellers were more then likely unaware of the battle, which made Zaheela cringe.
She wasn’t a knight anymore, banished, but she still held her honor and pride. Turning to face Cirucci, she lifted her hands over her head, once again gathering the needed components of magic. As much as she needed to escape, she wasn’t about to let someone else suffer because of Cirucci’s brashness. Luckily for her, magic that fell under the label of ‘offensive’ were much easier to control, and her time back in Vana‘diel allowed her plenty of time to learn them. The magic flared intensely and she swung her entire body into the movement as she brought her arms down.
“AERO, TIER THREE!” Like a child throwing a ball, she hurled magical winds at Cirucci.
Wind? Wind?~
The Arrancar laughed, full out laughed, her wings extending to their full span, an impressive length, all smooth ivory and shining metal, straight and level before they whipped out, limber and whip-like flexibility propelling the metal blades that were her feathers in sudden, powerful gusts back at the wind, cutting through and back towards Zaheela, glinting wildly in the sunlight.
“Try again, Zaheela!” The Privaron taunted, hair blowing about her face as she followed the path of her metal feathers back towards the Mithra.
Figures that the witch would have some sort of advantage midair, and she fell right into the trap. Clumsily she dodged first few ‘feathers’ but the rest were too many to handle and sunk themselves into flesh before passing through.
“Rrrrr…You’re In-” She turned her head, panicked as the metal blades whipped by downwards towards the buildings, only to once again be slammed by the Thunderwitch midair.
If this was on ground, if she didn’t forget her blades, if… if…. If… She couldn’t keep thinking that as she forcefully expelled all the air from her lungs. Bleeding and currently crumpled on Cirucci’s shoulder, it was clear she was out of her element. Coughing wildly, she struggled for breath, using Cirucci as a form of support as she struggled to figure out a way out. If Only she could limit the maneuverability….
Cirucci couldn’t stop laughing, an annoying, too proud sound, recalling the blades before they hit the ground below, her reiastu humming as the metal responded to her call, flung themselves back and redocked along the line of bone wing with the distinctive clunking of metal aligning, locking into place.
“I’m what now?” Cirucci giggled, still zipping through the air, tail and feathered headdress rippling out behind her. “I can’t hear you~!” A talon hooked into the back of Zaheela’s clothing to haul her off her shoulder joint and instead secure a grip on her within bony confines.
“Insane.” Zaheela hissed into Cirucci’s ear. It was all she said before sacrificing her clothes and rolling off the shoulder, glad that those talons were razor sharp and let gravity grab her instead. Mind oddly calm, she stopped her decent with another floatation spell and lifted her hand, placing it against her chest. It glew green as a circle formed around her, imbuing healing magic into her body, slowly but surely reducing the damage already done.
The other hand wasn’t idle however as she lifted it, locking onto Cirucci.
“You said try again? Try some Flame then!” She bellowed, fast casting a third tier fire spell. Around her, the air heated as the mana melted into her surroundings before a blaze of fire could be seen, streaking straight for Cirucci.
Cirucci snarled angrily as her talons pierced through fabric and not skin, looked down with disdain as Zaheela fell and balanced. More anger was lit on her face at the sight of the flames. Unwilling to turn her back, the Privaron dipped low by tucking in wings, but, much to her shock, the flame followed her.
Gritting teeth, the Arrancar flipped over, executing a complicated aerial maneuever to loop over the burning energy, but still it followed until she was forced to throw up her taloned bones to shield instead, taking the hit in the shoulder. Hissing in pain, the Thunderwitch quickly extinguished the burning with a surge of reiatsu, but the bone was smoldering, blackened and smoking at the wing joint, a small web of cracks just barely visible.
“I don’t think so!” She screamed, the echo of sonido the only indication she’d moved before she was inches from Zaheela, talons swinging. It was unknown whether she referred to the attack or accusation of insanity.
The firely snake eagerly followed it’s caster’s commands, twisting and curling through the air. She keep her hold on the spell, focused on burning the insane bitch to a crisp, until it had finally engulfed it’s target. She didn’t smile when damage was revealed but she did feel proud, however, she has no real chance to avoid the sonido, especially with no real ability to move midair. The talons smashed into her torso, sending her straight out of the air. Concentration was shot to hell, she hit the rooftop of a building hard, and rolled across the ground until she slammed into a ventilation shaft and slumped, head bent down and body limp.
Cirucci smirked, licked her lips. There she went. The Thunderwitch shook out her talons, descending lightly to the rooftop and folding her wings behind her, tail slithering out. With a disdainful glance she twined an ivory talon around a lank of hair and jerked the mithra up, giggling lightly when she received no response.
“I hope you taste wonderful, Zaheela.” The Privaron crooned. She would be nice and take dinner home to share.
Suddenly the limp hand grabbed the talon in her hair and eyes slid open quickly.
“Just. Shut. UP!” Was the mithra’s response before the air CRACKLED with ice and the floor exploded, ice sprouting up like branches. Stray hairs were all that were left in Circuci’s grip as the Mithra leapt backwards, hand moving. Like chains, the ice engulfed the grabbed talon, mouth, shoulder and the legs, effectively rooting the Arrancar firmly to the ground. There was a hiss as the still warm bone was forcefully cooled. It was only temporary though, and unless she did something more absolute, the pattern would only start again.
“I really. Really. Don’t feel like finding out.” Zaheela snarled, tail fluffed out as she held out her right hand, gathering as much mana as she could dare to control in one shot, and impacted it. End it in one shot with her most potent spell. The magic exploded outward and from every angle, lightning shot towards Circucci. The explosion sent black smoke into the air and she darted, not bothering to check if she had killed the witch or not.
Ice, ice was a problem. The Privaron snarled, thrashed, ice beginning to crack in the powerful struggles she produced, hissing when the bone cooled too rapidly and the cracks spread. She’d let her guard down.
But lighting… lightning… Surely she didn’t think to manage to defeat her with lightning.
She was the Thunderwitch.
Cirucci’s wings snapped up and out, extended to their full spread and straight up, the metal feathers crackling and snapping, a lightning rod of her own natural making, nulling the magical energy and cradled their in her weapons. Thrumming with the lightning, the Privaron burst out of the ice and through the black smoke, a burst of white as her tail whipped out, the maw shrieking with air passing though, aimed straight at the back of the fleeing woman’s head.
The shriek was the only tip off but it wasn’t enough of a warning. Zaheela has instinctively moved to the right, only to have the maw of the tail grab her middle and toss her into the wall by the stairway doors. The impact of her skull against the brick made it impossible to do anything but bounce off and roll across the ground and coming to a stop on the edge of the roof, one arm hanging from the side. Her whole body seemed to relax and the Mithra had been knocked out cold, leaving the Thunderwitch free to collect her prize without struggle.
Cirucci landed again, a soft thump when small, booted fit hit the rooftop. She shook herself, a few crisp, burnt feathers flying free, her burned then frozen shoulder cracking further until she ceased moving it with a grimace. Careful to use her other hand, the Thunderwitch picked the Mithra up again, hauling her close to snarl in her unconscious face.
“You will be a tasty dinner.” She snapped. The Privaron smiled, and stroked the female’s cheek roughly with one talon.
“Or I’ll be most disappointed.”
Rating; PG-13 for minor swearing and aerial
Characters; Zaheela
henkonasuisho; Cirucci Thunderwitch thunderwitchSummary; An Arrancar on the prowl... Dinner's aint got a clue
Log;
Cirucci Thunderwitch was hunting.
She was hungry again, she was always hungry, but she’d decided to try sating herself again, after the disastrous attempt that had been her last try at feeding herself. It was easy, to release, to go into that comforting that of being, the bones and steel, the pride, and the wind whistling by.
The Privaron scouted, idly gliding in ever widening circles as her senses stretched, narrowing and focusing on the spirit signatures she could feel. No, no, no…
There was one.
Smirk tugging at her lips, Cirucci dipped a wing joint, sideways in motion, zeroing in, moving without noise, landing quick on a building roof and letting her tail curl as she looked down at the signature she picked, eyes widening and mouth immediately twisting to a sneer. If it wasn’t…
“Special Sale ending in ONE HOUR! JUST ONE MORE HOUR FOLKS!!!!”
“Get Yer fresh produce here! Dirt cheap!”
“That’s MY DRESS YOU OLD HAG!”
“I AM THE SWORD OF THE CENNNNNTURRRRYYYYY”
“…Please, everyone, just shut up.”
Down below, the ‘prey’ in this game glowered at her watch, wriggling between busy shoppers and bellowing merchants (and it seemed one nutcase). As wonderful as modern technology was, there was times the feline like woman really, really detested it. The roar of the crowds and the blaring ‘music’, or at least the what they claimed it to be, was making Zaheela’s head pound. She couldn’t hear much of anything, her eyes stung from the acidic air, and her tail, longer now, was more ill-suited for this place then it had been before, being pulled on by curious hands and smashed by a flowerpot.
“Just 1 more hour… one more hour…” She chanted to herself, eyes focused on the ground, counting down the finite minutes before the medical department of the library reopened from it’s daily resorting, and she could escape this hellish crowds to get back to investigating the Medical profession of the modern work, it’s patterns and what to expect in preparation of applying for a ‘job’ within the city Hospital. Her eyes never once darted to the skyline as she managed to escape the wilds that were the markets.
The 105th had never been shy about people seeing her doing “bad” things. No, she never had cared. After all, most of the City knew who she was, anyway. Most of them hated her. Most of them knew to be afraid, to avoid her if they wanted to live.
And this woman… she hated this woman. She hated so much, so many, and she could hate forever, nurse a grudge forever. She’d hoped she’d gone, but to see her back… all that hatred surged back all the stronger.
She felt different but that didn’t matter, not when her wings snapped out, glinting in the sunlight, waiting for the moment her back was turned, the noise was loudest before diving off the roof, wings tucked in as she fell, a white blur, snapping them out last minute to glide, to rush over the crowds, talons extending, to pluck that detestable woman, Zaheela from the pack and begin once more to take to the sky.
It hit her like a ton of bricks, the impact and the disorientation, of being slammed, grabbed, and finally lifted by powerful wings made it easier for the arrancar to carry Zaheela into the sky. That is, until she had regained her bearings and realized just the hell had happened. Turning her head, she did the first thing, reached for one of the blades on her belt, only to find it missing. Quickly she reached for the other, and found it to be missing as well. Oh that’s right, she forgot that she had enemies, particularly sadistic ones, and left them both at home. A quick curse and she began to wriggle out of her jacket, the cloth allowing her a sort of lubrication to escape the death grip, only to fall straight downwards.
Peachy. The ground was so far below them and she panicked. Regardless of the idea that a cat would always land on her feet, she also appeared to be part human. Recalling briefly the numerous times that Cirucci had adopted ‘grab-and-drop’ tactics, she cursed again attempting to focus under the dangerous situation her magic and let it gather around her.
“FLOAT” A jerk, a stop, a sigh of relief. Then vivid green eyes snapped upwards to lock onto her kidnapper‘s.
“What in all of the realms do YOU want Cirucci?” She demanded of the undead woman, a growl of challenge, magic already sparking to life in-between her skilled hands.
“Why do you even have to ask, Zaheela~?” The Arrancar shrieked, her voice far too high-pitched, too avian like this, wings folding with the squeal of steel and diving back down after her quarry, lips split wide in an excited laugh that was lost to whipping wind.
“Surely you remember?” She was weaponless, that was a plus, only having to look out for that pesky magic and all that came with it, her tail curling and twisting behind her, the tell-tale glow of a charging attack in the steaming maw, talons unfurled to reach out and grab once more, too agile in the air, too quick.
Because Cirucci was too unpredictable when it came to mental sanity. Because she hadn’t bothered to remember the woman while back in her world. Because she was sure it was some petty reason. So many possible reasons, that’s for sure. The magic flared, pressing itself against her palms, begging to released.
“That you have inane and somewhat questionable dislike of me? Haven’t you gotten over that?!?” Zaheela felt her blood boil, before the shriek caused her to cringe as it hurt her ears. She only briefly caught what looked to be a sort of energy attack gathering at the end of that maw-like tail, before Cirucci dove. She blindly darted to the right at the last moment and released the magic into the air around her. It swirled outwards to curve into a bubble, encasing her in a special damage negating seal called Phalanx. The thin barrier would only stop so much damage though, and Zaheela knew she needed to get the hell away. She wasn’t keen on really finding out what the Thunderwitch was up to anyways.
Cirucci’s claws careened into the side of the bubble, scrabbling with the whining scrapes of hardened ivory against the phalanx. Lips twisted into a frown, the Arrancar’s eyes narrowed, pure violet darknening in anger.
“I hold grudges.” She hissed, the powerful burst of wings in the air propelling her back and away from the bubble shield, only to have the tail whip from behind, between long legs, and fire off the cero charging there, the maw opening with another shriek, louder, more high pitched screaming from that disconnected part of her, the glow erupting in a blast of power aimed straight for her.
The grating noise was like pure agony to her ears, and Zaheela had no time to react as the Cero exploded against her shield, decimating it before she could even get halfway through casting her stronger second layer of a protection and with an explosion it broke. Caught in the middle, the feline ‘staggered’ and lost her grip on the float spell, losing altitude slightly before regaining her hold on the levitation. Below them, the city dwellers were more then likely unaware of the battle, which made Zaheela cringe.
She wasn’t a knight anymore, banished, but she still held her honor and pride. Turning to face Cirucci, she lifted her hands over her head, once again gathering the needed components of magic. As much as she needed to escape, she wasn’t about to let someone else suffer because of Cirucci’s brashness. Luckily for her, magic that fell under the label of ‘offensive’ were much easier to control, and her time back in Vana‘diel allowed her plenty of time to learn them. The magic flared intensely and she swung her entire body into the movement as she brought her arms down.
“AERO, TIER THREE!” Like a child throwing a ball, she hurled magical winds at Cirucci.
Wind? Wind?~
The Arrancar laughed, full out laughed, her wings extending to their full span, an impressive length, all smooth ivory and shining metal, straight and level before they whipped out, limber and whip-like flexibility propelling the metal blades that were her feathers in sudden, powerful gusts back at the wind, cutting through and back towards Zaheela, glinting wildly in the sunlight.
“Try again, Zaheela!” The Privaron taunted, hair blowing about her face as she followed the path of her metal feathers back towards the Mithra.
Figures that the witch would have some sort of advantage midair, and she fell right into the trap. Clumsily she dodged first few ‘feathers’ but the rest were too many to handle and sunk themselves into flesh before passing through.
“Rrrrr…You’re In-” She turned her head, panicked as the metal blades whipped by downwards towards the buildings, only to once again be slammed by the Thunderwitch midair.
If this was on ground, if she didn’t forget her blades, if… if…. If… She couldn’t keep thinking that as she forcefully expelled all the air from her lungs. Bleeding and currently crumpled on Cirucci’s shoulder, it was clear she was out of her element. Coughing wildly, she struggled for breath, using Cirucci as a form of support as she struggled to figure out a way out. If Only she could limit the maneuverability….
Cirucci couldn’t stop laughing, an annoying, too proud sound, recalling the blades before they hit the ground below, her reiastu humming as the metal responded to her call, flung themselves back and redocked along the line of bone wing with the distinctive clunking of metal aligning, locking into place.
“I’m what now?” Cirucci giggled, still zipping through the air, tail and feathered headdress rippling out behind her. “I can’t hear you~!” A talon hooked into the back of Zaheela’s clothing to haul her off her shoulder joint and instead secure a grip on her within bony confines.
“Insane.” Zaheela hissed into Cirucci’s ear. It was all she said before sacrificing her clothes and rolling off the shoulder, glad that those talons were razor sharp and let gravity grab her instead. Mind oddly calm, she stopped her decent with another floatation spell and lifted her hand, placing it against her chest. It glew green as a circle formed around her, imbuing healing magic into her body, slowly but surely reducing the damage already done.
The other hand wasn’t idle however as she lifted it, locking onto Cirucci.
“You said try again? Try some Flame then!” She bellowed, fast casting a third tier fire spell. Around her, the air heated as the mana melted into her surroundings before a blaze of fire could be seen, streaking straight for Cirucci.
Cirucci snarled angrily as her talons pierced through fabric and not skin, looked down with disdain as Zaheela fell and balanced. More anger was lit on her face at the sight of the flames. Unwilling to turn her back, the Privaron dipped low by tucking in wings, but, much to her shock, the flame followed her.
Gritting teeth, the Arrancar flipped over, executing a complicated aerial maneuever to loop over the burning energy, but still it followed until she was forced to throw up her taloned bones to shield instead, taking the hit in the shoulder. Hissing in pain, the Thunderwitch quickly extinguished the burning with a surge of reiatsu, but the bone was smoldering, blackened and smoking at the wing joint, a small web of cracks just barely visible.
“I don’t think so!” She screamed, the echo of sonido the only indication she’d moved before she was inches from Zaheela, talons swinging. It was unknown whether she referred to the attack or accusation of insanity.
The firely snake eagerly followed it’s caster’s commands, twisting and curling through the air. She keep her hold on the spell, focused on burning the insane bitch to a crisp, until it had finally engulfed it’s target. She didn’t smile when damage was revealed but she did feel proud, however, she has no real chance to avoid the sonido, especially with no real ability to move midair. The talons smashed into her torso, sending her straight out of the air. Concentration was shot to hell, she hit the rooftop of a building hard, and rolled across the ground until she slammed into a ventilation shaft and slumped, head bent down and body limp.
Cirucci smirked, licked her lips. There she went. The Thunderwitch shook out her talons, descending lightly to the rooftop and folding her wings behind her, tail slithering out. With a disdainful glance she twined an ivory talon around a lank of hair and jerked the mithra up, giggling lightly when she received no response.
“I hope you taste wonderful, Zaheela.” The Privaron crooned. She would be nice and take dinner home to share.
Suddenly the limp hand grabbed the talon in her hair and eyes slid open quickly.
“Just. Shut. UP!” Was the mithra’s response before the air CRACKLED with ice and the floor exploded, ice sprouting up like branches. Stray hairs were all that were left in Circuci’s grip as the Mithra leapt backwards, hand moving. Like chains, the ice engulfed the grabbed talon, mouth, shoulder and the legs, effectively rooting the Arrancar firmly to the ground. There was a hiss as the still warm bone was forcefully cooled. It was only temporary though, and unless she did something more absolute, the pattern would only start again.
“I really. Really. Don’t feel like finding out.” Zaheela snarled, tail fluffed out as she held out her right hand, gathering as much mana as she could dare to control in one shot, and impacted it. End it in one shot with her most potent spell. The magic exploded outward and from every angle, lightning shot towards Circucci. The explosion sent black smoke into the air and she darted, not bothering to check if she had killed the witch or not.
Ice, ice was a problem. The Privaron snarled, thrashed, ice beginning to crack in the powerful struggles she produced, hissing when the bone cooled too rapidly and the cracks spread. She’d let her guard down.
But lighting… lightning… Surely she didn’t think to manage to defeat her with lightning.
She was the Thunderwitch.
Cirucci’s wings snapped up and out, extended to their full spread and straight up, the metal feathers crackling and snapping, a lightning rod of her own natural making, nulling the magical energy and cradled their in her weapons. Thrumming with the lightning, the Privaron burst out of the ice and through the black smoke, a burst of white as her tail whipped out, the maw shrieking with air passing though, aimed straight at the back of the fleeing woman’s head.
The shriek was the only tip off but it wasn’t enough of a warning. Zaheela has instinctively moved to the right, only to have the maw of the tail grab her middle and toss her into the wall by the stairway doors. The impact of her skull against the brick made it impossible to do anything but bounce off and roll across the ground and coming to a stop on the edge of the roof, one arm hanging from the side. Her whole body seemed to relax and the Mithra had been knocked out cold, leaving the Thunderwitch free to collect her prize without struggle.
Cirucci landed again, a soft thump when small, booted fit hit the rooftop. She shook herself, a few crisp, burnt feathers flying free, her burned then frozen shoulder cracking further until she ceased moving it with a grimace. Careful to use her other hand, the Thunderwitch picked the Mithra up again, hauling her close to snarl in her unconscious face.
“You will be a tasty dinner.” She snapped. The Privaron smiled, and stroked the female’s cheek roughly with one talon.
“Or I’ll be most disappointed.”