11-21-2018, 07:01 PM
[div style="width: 527px; line-height: 1.4; text-align: justify; font-family: palatino; font-size: 11px;"][align=center]blackbird singing in the dead of night, take these broken wings and learn to fly
Speak of the devil and she may appear, stoic and icy beside her da, as if from thin air. Striker. As a Striker, she ought to fight, yes? Do her duty. Her pale sea-green hues rested in the direction of Kian's voice, thoughtful. Still too young, perhaps? Maybe, for the child seemed to age at such an odd rate, the misfortune of immortal blood."I'm going." She'd learnt a thing or two herself on stealth and hidden fighting. Courtesy of that 'mother' - still an odd concept - Owen warned his son about. Perhaps that same faerie would be irked at her own determined nature, but she felt little inclined to obey either of her fathers as of late. Yet, as if in afterthought, she tilted her chin up, softening, "I won't get close." Not as if she could find anything 'shiny' anyhow. Ranged tactics would suit her.