Log: Complete

[bitingnightmare.livejournal.com]

When; Jan. 7 (late morning)
Rating; V for Violence
Characters; Ophelia therippling and the Corinthian bitingnightmare
Summary; After the Durandal's alert, Operation Homer and Hamlet to help break the Stewards' line formations begins. [Feel free to say you saw them whiz by through the forestry, hacking Stewards out of the way to get to each other.]
Log;

Stewards had finally started descending on the City, first at the deserted beaches, then along the populated shores. After the red alert from Jr. it was Strategy's plan to send the Corinthian into the woods, to search for a weapon who could deal damage with little concern for others, possibly including herself. He stalked through the dense forestry, long sword on one side, firearm on the other. His knives were tucked in his boots, and the nightmare wore no armor to protect himself. His uniform consisted of plain blue jeans and a gray button-down shirt, worn untucked with the sleeves rolled to his elbows, shades ever present.

"Where are you, pretty lady," hissed the Corinthian, searching for the Claymore.

Comments

[therippling.livejournal.com]

Ophelia watched him, her nose wrinkled at the sight of the wounds reopening. It smelled wonderful, his blood, unlike most blood she'd smelt in her long life. Not as good as the blood of Awakened Beings, of course, or those something akin to her sisters, but good nonetheless.

Pity, that the Stewards' blood tasted so badly.

"Come back." She smiled, and it was her own offer, to fight again. She'd only need rest for a few hours at most before she would be able to fight at a good capacity again, and with her bloodlust so riled, she wasn't about to let it go to waste alone.

[bitingnightmare.livejournal.com]

His blood would always be of the sea and his flesh of the sand at night. It was how he was made. She smelled similar, not in the place but in the structure. A thing to be made, not sired.

"I will," the Corinthian promised, though without specifying when, "pretty lady."

The nightmare ducked into the dark shadows of the woods, like moonlight on the ground.

[therippling.livejournal.com]

For she had been made. The basic construct was a shy human girl, who'd run for her life and watched her brother sacrifice himself for her. The rest was the Organization that had ripped her body apart and replaced her organs with those of a yoma monster, and taught her to kill.

"Mm." Pretty lady. Not as cute as good girl, but it was just fine. With a content little smile, the half-monster nestled back against her sword. A soft whimper and the shadow beast finally caught up, trailing the hissing poison of blood and lay beside her. Such a nice pet, from Isaak. Isaak was the caller kitten.

So many names.

Ophelia closed her eyes. She still liked blood-soaked best.