While the night is deep and dark, there isn’t any shortage of noise or movement amongst the woods. Eloisa’s not one to be out here as often anymore, in fact she’d rather be home right now, laying face down in hopefully not a slimed up pillow, maybe with a drink nearby.
Most nights are just like this, wrapped in darkness, hiding some rather unappealing deals done just out of sight, but for the most part nothing. Nothing being the best, there’s nothing out of sorts, there’s no one out of place, and there’s no need to stain any metal.
At least, the night started out like that, but its impossible to ignore the stench of blood in the air. A mixed stench, some odd creature, and a less demonic blood. One that she doesn’t fully recognize, but one that can’t be ignored.
Even some holy things bleed, and the last thing she wanted was one of those ordained mercenaries of the old ways, dying on her watch. Its hard enough to keep holy zealots out of here, and that’d be the most tantalizing invitation.
However, upon further investigation, several minutes of dashing through the tree tops. Its not some holy decreed saint that dies, its not a demon that’s leaned up against the tree. Its something else, something that’s about to get a jolt, a small scare as Eloisa jumps down in garb.
“Suffice to say, dying against a tree isn’t the way you wish to go isn’t it stranger?” The smell of blood is coming from her, both from their weapon, and from their body.
“Languages.” Eloisa, paused, muttering off a series of quiet hellos in several different tongues. French, Italian, Spanish, English, Korean, Japanese, watching to see which perked the strangers ears.
For a moment Tomo felt that she was about to fall unconscious, fighting to not fall asleep as she knew that there was a chance that she would not wake back up if her mind was to drift off. She pinched her wound, the jolt of pain causing her to gasp as for a moment her mind was clear of the fog.
It was in this dazed state that Tomo saw something jump down in front of her. Her instincts yelled at her to grab hold of her weapon and to draw her blade. Her hand moved quickly to grab the hilt, but stopped short of drawing the steel. The person in front of her was speaking in a language that Tomo couldn’t understand, but her tone and posture wasn’t that of someone that was coming to finish the kitsune off.
The kitsune sat there against the tree as she stared up at the face of the figure before her, fox ears twitching when she suddenly realized that the female was rapidly shifting to different languages before she heard Japanese
“Greetings …” The kitsune cautiously responded in Japanese, still wary as she wasn’t sure of what the stranger’s intent was.
