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Post by Milo Pardeux on Feb 2, 2010 23:33:01 GMT -5
Four days. Four whole days of shirking holy duties in favor of leisure and relaxation. No dangerous hunts. No cryptic church instructions. No Nica. With such freedom, one’s automatic response would be to jump for joy, reveling in the nonexistent schedule over the long weekend. Most people dream of their awaited vacation time, carefully planning and plotting their wondrous adventures sans the shackles of responsibilities. However, Milo’s feelings were anything but joyous. Turmoil settled in the assassin’s stomach and Milo couldn’t help but feel obsolete. Constant combative stimulation was the only craving; not sunny beaches or serene forests, but action. Sadly, Milo would be receiving none in the next several days according to the Holy Church’s strict orders. On top of that, Nica was probably off gallivanting in one of the human realms, leaving Milo to the devices of loneliness. So what was an individual to do with a forced vacation? Holing oneself up in a room for the next few nights seemed tempting enough, but Milo would probably regret the decision later on when work resumed, especially once Nica started yakking about all the exciting things the other Pardeux half had experienced. With a sigh and a shrug, Milo left the comforts of the glistening inn situated against the backdrop of the eternal night of the Selentine Queendom.
Situated in the heart of the Selentine Queendom, Delphine always hummed with a bustling pace as travelers to the other realms flowed in like a constant tide. While most used the city as a quick cure for boredom during their layovers to other worlds, there were quite a few who would rather stay and enjoy the sights and all of Delphine has to offer instead of jetting off to Sulfrahn or Vildia. So while most areas would settle down once the moon reached its zenith, Delphine was always in a constant state of activity. A city that never sleeps always had a certain appeal, especially to Milo despite the fondness for quiet that the bloodthirsty Magi seemed to possess. A light coat graced Milo’s lithe frame as the everlasting coolness of the evening hit the androgynous form of the holy hunter. Dark pants were tucked into leather boots that padded down the populated sidewalks. Raucous laughter seemed to pour out of every lit window or open door and the ghost of a smile crossed Milo’s features. Perhaps the getaway would be more pleasant than expected. But as soon as the grin emerged, it quickly faded. A sharp tingle along Milo’s skin originated on a clothed, left thigh as it began to creep along the skin. The sacred brand itched with a subtle heat and Milo’s head whipped around, searching through the revelers. Milo had felt it with great clarity and fingers instinctively reached into the coat pockets to slip through the concealed weapons stored there.
To describe the figure as tall and dark would have been cliché, but it was the truth and, at the same time, it was so much more than that. Power pulsed from his body and Milo’s path locked on to autopilot, following the prey with ease. The being Milo tailed was sure to fetch some rather surprised and reverent gazes from the holy ones. This unholy scourge was a grand discovery. This would be Milo’s white whale, so to speak. Fingers slipped into the notches of her brass knuckles, settling comfortably over the grip. As soon as he turned a corner, emerging onto a sparse side street, Milo lunged forward toward victory. Sparks crackled over the curved metallic surface as Milo’s energy surged into the weapon. One clean shot and incapacitation would be sure to follow. Although, one may think issuing a soft war cry would not be conducive to a successful capture. And in this case, they would most definitely be right.
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