#‘ﾟships » ASTORAIRE — ❝ no one sings like you anymore ! ❝

[griimreaping]

@astorair -- 

SQUINTING up at the cold silver dollar sun that dodged between banks of heavy grey clouds that had been hanging drearily over the land for the last week Jean can’t help the frown that creases her mouth. Today’s hunt looks like it would be on the rainy side of the clouds picked up any, and nothing stunk more than an old wet battlefield. Sword a welcome and reassuring presence on her hip Jean retrieves the smudged sketch of the man she would be looking for, and hopefully find given the Ghouls haven’t fed too voraciously over the last day or two. Blowing a sigh out through her nose Jean tucks the drawing back into a fold of her jacket and silently prays that there aren’t a lot of monsters about this time. 

Boots crunching into a wide clearing there’s a moment of pause. Something is off. Air electric and making the hair on the back of the woman’s neck stand on end. Jean has just about enough magic to feel that there’s something powerful here. Sharply surveying the clearing she stepped into the woman hopes to hell this isn’t some kind of fae circle. The last thing she needs is a curse or hex on her for disturbing some mushrooms. Though that doesn’t feel like the right type of magic, this is more like that tingle in the air before a lightning strike. Scanning the clearing again hesitantly the hunter takes another cautious step forward into the shimmering space.

Then it struck.

Like a rip in the very air itself, the space at the center of the clearing seemed to burst open with a skin rending heat that lashed out like a whip knocking Jean back flat against the dew damp ground. Laying there blinking and winded for a heartbeat before hands are scrabbling in the dirt to pull her away from whatever the hell is coalescing in the clearing Jean grits her teeth. Just as soon as it had happened whatever pit of hell had opened its furnace-like maw snapped it shut and calm returned to the forest. Yet it still held it’s breath. Birds, bugs, wind, all silently waiting. 

It’s then Jean finds herself blinking dumbly at the smoking heap of a body lying where the portal had dumped them. Back pressed against the cold bark of a tree the woman had no inclinations on moving any closer to the body. Just staring at it, for now, would suffice as her brain attempts to catch up with the events that just occurred.

[griimreaping]

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