Post by Cassandra Therandal on Jan 15, 2008 0:59:29 GMT
Cappie ran through the woods with a pocket full of money. She had just robbed and then brutally killed a man for his money. Grinning, she looked down at her bloody hands and stopped, watching as the moonlight hit them. Smearing a hand on her face, she felt the warm liquid on her skin. The hand print made her look feril, like she was a wild beast. Maybe she was....
Underneath an old tree, Cappie took a pair of tiger claws from her belt. Slipping the leather onto her hands she looked at the shiney metal claws, each one standing at a foot long. Driving them into the trunk, she began to climb, the spikes on the toes of her boots aiding her along. Once at the top of the tree, she put the claws away and turned to her home. A large wooden tree house sat in the thick branches. Grinning, she entered.
A small whtie cot lay in the far corner of it, and a wooden chimney was in the other. A table was next to the cot, sporting many weapons and some old bread. A cabinet held spices. Sitting in a chair, she strippd her armor off, leaving just her clothes underneath. Well, her tan clothe that covered her parts was there, nothing else. Stretching, she put her weapons on the table next to her and she lay down on the bed.
Cappie couldn't help but remember what happened earlier. The brutal killing of the man. Grinning, she felt the dried blood on her face crack and flake off. Touching it, she felt it crumble. Cappie grabbed a stale piece of bread from her table and sat up facing the door, nibbling it. Something outside of it was moving. Standing, she grabbed her sword and stood there, barefoot and half naked. Her long blonde curls fell down around her. A rose sat in water on the table, and she took it, ready to lay it on the body of the person she might kill. That was her calling card.
Whenever Cappie killed, she would kiss the cheek of the victim and then lay a red rose on his chest. Lets people know shes not totally insane. The thorns on the rose were cut off and the stem was smooth, like her pale skin. Smirking, she laid it back down on the table and took a stance, ready to fight.
Underneath an old tree, Cappie took a pair of tiger claws from her belt. Slipping the leather onto her hands she looked at the shiney metal claws, each one standing at a foot long. Driving them into the trunk, she began to climb, the spikes on the toes of her boots aiding her along. Once at the top of the tree, she put the claws away and turned to her home. A large wooden tree house sat in the thick branches. Grinning, she entered.
A small whtie cot lay in the far corner of it, and a wooden chimney was in the other. A table was next to the cot, sporting many weapons and some old bread. A cabinet held spices. Sitting in a chair, she strippd her armor off, leaving just her clothes underneath. Well, her tan clothe that covered her parts was there, nothing else. Stretching, she put her weapons on the table next to her and she lay down on the bed.
Cappie couldn't help but remember what happened earlier. The brutal killing of the man. Grinning, she felt the dried blood on her face crack and flake off. Touching it, she felt it crumble. Cappie grabbed a stale piece of bread from her table and sat up facing the door, nibbling it. Something outside of it was moving. Standing, she grabbed her sword and stood there, barefoot and half naked. Her long blonde curls fell down around her. A rose sat in water on the table, and she took it, ready to lay it on the body of the person she might kill. That was her calling card.
Whenever Cappie killed, she would kiss the cheek of the victim and then lay a red rose on his chest. Lets people know shes not totally insane. The thorns on the rose were cut off and the stem was smooth, like her pale skin. Smirking, she laid it back down on the table and took a stance, ready to fight.