Well I do believe that our decline is predisposed

ReD

ReD

Sex & Death Everywhere
Inactive
Aug 4, 2013
6,766
Bat Country
Much to Varvara's satisfaction, the bullet ripped through Irina.

Good. The scent of her blood in the cool night air was invigorating. Varavara was not a vampire, but she'd be lying if she said she did not enjoy the coppery taste of a victim's blood on her lips, and oh, was Irina's blood sweet. She wanted to run her fingers through it and smear it against her face.

but, rather than stagger like she'd expected....

Irina lunged at her.

Varvara took a few steps back but it didn't matter: Irina crashed into her, her nails clawing at her shoulders through her thin blouse, and Varvara felt irina's rage coursing through her.

It strengthened her and weakened her at the same time.

"Pesky little thing, aren't you?" Varvara said, spitting out her own hair from her mouth. She tried to disentangle herself so she could prepare another shot in the revolver. Varavara suspected she might have broken a heel.

She picked up her shoe and moved to hit Irina across the face with it.

"Little Shlyuhka," she spat. She needed another moment to untangle herself so she could bolt once more. Blood dripped down her chest and stained her blouse. Some of it was Irina's, but most of it was her own.
 
S

Shadowborn

Well-Known Member
Inactive
May 21, 2015
479
With a glance she could se the damage on that, that abomination, which she had caused. Irina had a slightly different wound which colored the cloth around it red as well as the cloth which it upon contact did the same thing as it traveled down, eventually slashing in a collection of a red liquid.

With a smal portion of satisfaction over the pain and damage she had inflicted to that thing which taunted her, Irina began to regain her senses and somewhat revert the changes on her body. Though her claws would still resemble that of claws, they would be somewhat smaller and her skin less rough but still quite rough. But the best and worse change upon being able to have rational thought was just that, which lead to her actually reacting to the gun wound. She let out a scream as the wound felt like her inside was on fire, a scream which sounded more like the roar of a demon.

The words coming out of her enemy wasn't, much of an insult to a still chaste Irina, however words and voice was enough to piss her off. Firing of her own insult "демон" meaning demon in Russia, though simpleminded it was enough to make her want to puke.

She looked at her hands with curse words floating in her mind, she couldn't use her bow as things where. Likely to have given that, that thing to move.
 
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