♣ : Erratic and seraphic was her fighting style; an odd combination, to be sure, but one would find a lack of a better description for her finesse with a blade if they witnessed her tearing the unfortunate pair of lycanthropes to pieces. Disregarding the city’s clear hatred of her putrid blood ( vivat impurum regina ), she flung the crimson liquid in wide waves from her sword with each powerful yet precise swing.
Quite excitedly, the Vileblood envisioned herself as a ballerina steeped in viscera, with no clear concern over the fact over the other beasts lurking within the shadows were sure to overpower her, should they make the ( horrifically rude ) mistake of attacking her. And they would.
( Unus, duo, tres. ) She whipped her blade over her shoulder and sank the metal between the eyes of one foe. The other lycanthrope made a hasty, lethal lunge - one that was lethal to itself, as it found its bodily contents dumped onto the streets from a cut across its abdomen that seemed to appear from nowhere. Such was the agility of a Cainhurst knightess.
Any urge to celebrate was quashed by the boorishness she just dealt with. ( Again. ) She could not fathom why the city’s inhabitants felt the need to act like barbarians... Ignoring the fact that the ones she tended to acquaint herself with were literal monsters.
This particular confrontation made her drowsy - so drowsy she was almost tempted to take a quick nap, despite the lingering threat of attack. Oh, her sword felt so terribly heavy...