[ She holds up a single finger. (It isn't her middle, no worries.) ]
Otherwise you risk losing a finger.
[ The moment he takes it, it will lose its glow, cooling quickly to better match the environment around them. It's still broken, though, jagged edged. Potentially dangerous when exposed to fragile skin. The other pieces of glass glint brightly in the air, spin once - almost theatrically so - and then seemingly blink out of existence. Well, then. Emily doesn't look at all surprised, though, so he can probably chalk it up to "part of the plan".
A table is upended in her pursuant group's haste to get to the pair of people, and Emily rolls her eyes before assuming a more defensive position. With her feet better spread and the blades of her hands close to her chin, it's clear she's been trained for combat. ]
I prefer to have as few permanent casualties as possible --
[ That's the last words she says for a little while, though, as five men finally (!) get here.
She punches the closest one in the nose and then immediately pivots behind him to cut off the oxygen to his brain, her arm pinned around his neck in an expert chokehold. A few seconds of that before she's leaving the unconscious body on the floor with some slight care.
[The upended table is all noise, like the growing tantrum of a child, when Alucard’s attentions would prefer to be hinged squarely on the show of her abilities with each passing moment. The delicate and theatrical spin of sharp-edged glass (which he can appreciate, in his own showy way), glinting in neon, before disappearing. He wants to ask about it, wants to know how it works, why the twin shard he keeps in his hand remains solid and solitary from the rest. Notes her quickness of settling into a fighting stance — would like to ask where she learned how to fight, with such readiness that implies both experience and constant practice.
And so these individuals, these ruffians sporting body mods and sneering looks, are all becoming quick inconveniences in his mind, despite his willingness to help. One of them is already down, the oxygen cut off from his brain forcing a blackout, making his body go slack and crumpling to the ground. Alucard steps over him as another large man rushes towards the dhampir, shouting something about minding his own business.
A duck to avoid a fist careening towards his face in he form of a hook. Glass shines in his hand, adjusted lightning quick at just the right angle—]
Where’d you learn to fight like this?
[—to be embedded directly into the assailant’s shoulder as his arm whips up to meet it, sharp enough to break through clothing as if it were paper. A scream resonates in his ear as a result, the other lurching away.
This is fine, right? A good place for conversation.]
[ Well, there's no harm in answering now, is there? To Emily, the fact that it would be a curiosity is a curiosity in and of itself, but her situation is only well-publicised in the Isles. Outside of it... ]
My father.
[ Not that she even has access to the full breadth of skills he passed down. That, like many other things, is locked away under the dulling ink stamped across the back of her hand. Each day, the murmurings of the Void get a little quieter; and with it, her gaze gets less sharp.
She'll explain -- ]
When my mother died, she was defenseless. She couldn't lift a single hand against her assailant.
[ Daud, his Whalers. They had the Outsider's gifts too, and rendered Corvo irrelevant because of it. It's still the worst day of Emily's life - worse than any too-long meeting, scolding, hangover or fussy dignitary.
Dodging an incoming blow, she hooks a leg around her attacker's foot, and pulls him right down. Her knee ends up digging into his back. ]
It was important that I not share the same fate.
[ She would not rest on careless expectations like Jessamine, or so Emily told herself - until she did exactly that and Delilah swept in. Maybe she isn't so different from her mother, after all. ]
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finalflight2018-12-25 12:21 am
no subject
[ She holds up a single finger. (It isn't her middle, no worries.) ]
Otherwise you risk losing a finger.
[ The moment he takes it, it will lose its glow, cooling quickly to better match the environment around them. It's still broken, though, jagged edged. Potentially dangerous when exposed to fragile skin. The other pieces of glass glint brightly in the air, spin once - almost theatrically so - and then seemingly blink out of existence. Well, then. Emily doesn't look at all surprised, though, so he can probably chalk it up to "part of the plan".
A table is upended in her pursuant group's haste to get to the pair of people, and Emily rolls her eyes before assuming a more defensive position. With her feet better spread and the blades of her hands close to her chin, it's clear she's been trained for combat. ]
I prefer to have as few permanent casualties as possible --
[ That's the last words she says for a little while, though, as five men finally (!) get here.
She punches the closest one in the nose and then immediately pivots behind him to cut off the oxygen to his brain, her arm pinned around his neck in an expert chokehold. A few seconds of that before she's leaving the unconscious body on the floor with some slight care.
It can't remain this easy, certainly. ]
no subject
And so these individuals, these ruffians sporting body mods and sneering looks, are all becoming quick inconveniences in his mind, despite his willingness to help. One of them is already down, the oxygen cut off from his brain forcing a blackout, making his body go slack and crumpling to the ground. Alucard steps over him as another large man rushes towards the dhampir, shouting something about minding his own business.
A duck to avoid a fist careening towards his face in he form of a hook. Glass shines in his hand, adjusted lightning quick at just the right angle—]
Where’d you learn to fight like this?
[—to be embedded directly into the assailant’s shoulder as his arm whips up to meet it, sharp enough to break through clothing as if it were paper. A scream resonates in his ear as a result, the other lurching away.
This is fine, right? A good place for conversation.]
no subject
My father.
[ Not that she even has access to the full breadth of skills he passed down. That, like many other things, is locked away under the dulling ink stamped across the back of her hand. Each day, the murmurings of the Void get a little quieter; and with it, her gaze gets less sharp.
She'll explain -- ]
When my mother died, she was defenseless. She couldn't lift a single hand against her assailant.
[ Daud, his Whalers. They had the Outsider's gifts too, and rendered Corvo irrelevant because of it. It's still the worst day of Emily's life - worse than any too-long meeting, scolding, hangover or fussy dignitary.
Dodging an incoming blow, she hooks a leg around her attacker's foot, and pulls him right down. Her knee ends up digging into his back. ]
It was important that I not share the same fate.
[ She would not rest on careless expectations like Jessamine, or so Emily told herself - until she did exactly that and Delilah swept in. Maybe she isn't so different from her mother, after all. ]