She’s something of an anomaly, this little huntress. He’s seen so many of them roaming the streets of this city. He’d seen them when it was little more than five houses and a church. But she’s different, with weapons that do not belong in this era of aether and steam. Her cloak is so bright - it is very much as if she is asking to be attacked.
He scoffs, following her from above, as he has been for quite a while now. Just to see, to know what she will do, he throws the sound of his footsteps, casually coming to the edge of a roof three from where she currently stands. His eyesight as a man had been excellent, and now it is superb, even for being as aged as he is.
Solas almost laughs when she calls out into the darkness. Mortals, their first instinct seemingly always to telegraph their position in darkness. Darkness or near darkness. Solas wonders how long she has been a hunter, is she young, or has she become an old maid as the contemporaries like to label women who forge their own paths without husbands or children.
It’s effortless to move fast enough her eyes would never trace it, the sound of his movements swallowed in the shadows. He pauses as she tells the world what she is doing, and can’t help a chuckle this time. He steps from the shadows to her left, slowly, so as not to startle her.
“Should a young lady be out so late unescorted? And so armed, what a - fascinating - sight you make, my lady.”
That would be the second choice, she determined. It almost baffled her when such creatures decided to be so cocky as to walk up next to her. Surely, they did not believe she was such an inept huntress just because of her ridiculous tactics. Although every night she found herself amazed that one would approach her; reasonably it could be the security they felt with shadows covering every corner.
Salem did not mind being the one at a disadvantage with her lack of vision. She would prefer to rely on her hearing when it came to supernatural beings. The woman was not naive, she would never track movements with her eyes.
Her fingers gingerly curled tighter around her weapons. A brief glance over her shoulder; her eyes remained locked onto the stone wall rather than the man behind her. Salem appreciated how silky every being’s voice sounded to the ears of humans. It made the execution a pleasant experience for the small female.
This particular one caused a feeling of trepidation to settle on her. Her jaw seemed to tighten at his words, she loathed them. Salem would never be able to comprehend the fake charisma that men, let alone these creatures, try to show her. She exhaled sharply, attempting not to show too much disappointment in the failed attempted at courtly behavior.
❝Why are all of you so dull? Have you not aged with the century or do you simply enjoy your last moments of pretending to be something close to human?❞ Though she came off as bitter she could not help but be acerbic towards them.
That remark alone almost made her feel sorry for the deplorable excuse of a man. ❝Nor is it any business of a vampire what a woman does in her own time. You should find one of your own kind to flatter before you die.❞
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