Felon says *ruby liquid slowly slid down pallid skin, its path guided by the sharp contours of the woman's face. Her chest heaved underneath the dark leather cuirass as her sword drooped towards the ground, wild eyes darting over the still scene. How had she managed to be caught up in the chaotic battle, she still wasn't sure. Wrong place, wrong time, perhaps? With no affinity to either side of the opposing forces, Ona remained stationary, not drifting towards one end of the field or the other as the survivors began to regroup. The creak of heavy armor sounded behind her, and the slight figure whipped about, braid flying, as she brought her weapon back up to ready, its tip pointed at the newcomer. Narrowing violet eyes at the white warrior, no recollection of his stark form came forward from the mayhem she had just endured. Which army's champion must he be?* You bear neither's colors, knight. So tell me, who's blood am I about to wet the ground with? |