08-07-2013, 09:12 PM
Kali had quips, she always did, it was apart of the woman's nature, a very part of her soul. Mercy could not seem to fault the Ravnos these features, despite her normal distaste for such superfluous words she somehow accepted them from Kali.
But a retort does not issue from Mercy's lips, she does not growl or snarl or narrow her eyes as she spoke. No because the pretty, delicate things were talking again...and then there was blood, and pain, and fear. The room filled with terror as a Sabbat warpack invaded and defiled the sanctity of Elysium. To Mercy this simply seemed prudent practice, why seek one's prey high and low across the expanse of the city, when one simply need to go to one place and find all the prey you desire. It was a fault in the Camarilla's logic, thinking itself so mighty and untouchable that they could simply declare their court for all to know...and not expect to be destroyed for their hubris.
But while many of the Camarilla streamed towards whatever exits, whatever reinforced rooms of safety might be known or afforded to them...Mercy knew of no such places, and cared not to follow in the wake of the camarilla sheep. The Sabbat had made the mistake of attacking while she was present. Cornering her in a building of stone and unyielding metal. One did not force a wild animal into a corner, be it healthy, wounded, or near death such actions always proved ill for the cornerer.
Those who chose to stand and fight engaged in various acts of drama, Everett, chose to try and rally those around him, an Anarch calling the Camarilla to war...how delicious it would be for some. Kali readied a weapon she had secreted into the sanctity of Elysium, training it on whomever she chose. Regardless of what was done by whom, the only thing which Mercy noted, was those who ran...and those who stood their ground.
To Mercy this situation was simple, these creatures had threatened her with their displays of violence and supremacy. They had challenged her dominance with their cowardly act of grouping, none of the war pack choosing to stand on their own skill and power.
As Mercy's fingers warped and bent, bone shifting and growing until it pierced her flesh and curled into razor sharp talons, she let out a savage roar to match Henrietta's and the feral look of untold rage that tore all vestiges of humanity from her face. There would be no words, no rallying call. Mercy would show no flare in the coming moments. All that would mark her would be the unknowable savagery, the death and pain of those in her wake, and the blood that would splatter and smear like the calling card of a serial killer.
Mercy strode forward, fangs bared and eyes red with animalistic fury...death was coming...be it her's or their's it mattered not. The cornered animal struck...pity those who had cornered it.
But a retort does not issue from Mercy's lips, she does not growl or snarl or narrow her eyes as she spoke. No because the pretty, delicate things were talking again...and then there was blood, and pain, and fear. The room filled with terror as a Sabbat warpack invaded and defiled the sanctity of Elysium. To Mercy this simply seemed prudent practice, why seek one's prey high and low across the expanse of the city, when one simply need to go to one place and find all the prey you desire. It was a fault in the Camarilla's logic, thinking itself so mighty and untouchable that they could simply declare their court for all to know...and not expect to be destroyed for their hubris.
But while many of the Camarilla streamed towards whatever exits, whatever reinforced rooms of safety might be known or afforded to them...Mercy knew of no such places, and cared not to follow in the wake of the camarilla sheep. The Sabbat had made the mistake of attacking while she was present. Cornering her in a building of stone and unyielding metal. One did not force a wild animal into a corner, be it healthy, wounded, or near death such actions always proved ill for the cornerer.
Those who chose to stand and fight engaged in various acts of drama, Everett, chose to try and rally those around him, an Anarch calling the Camarilla to war...how delicious it would be for some. Kali readied a weapon she had secreted into the sanctity of Elysium, training it on whomever she chose. Regardless of what was done by whom, the only thing which Mercy noted, was those who ran...and those who stood their ground.
To Mercy this situation was simple, these creatures had threatened her with their displays of violence and supremacy. They had challenged her dominance with their cowardly act of grouping, none of the war pack choosing to stand on their own skill and power.
As Mercy's fingers warped and bent, bone shifting and growing until it pierced her flesh and curled into razor sharp talons, she let out a savage roar to match Henrietta's and the feral look of untold rage that tore all vestiges of humanity from her face. There would be no words, no rallying call. Mercy would show no flare in the coming moments. All that would mark her would be the unknowable savagery, the death and pain of those in her wake, and the blood that would splatter and smear like the calling card of a serial killer.
Mercy strode forward, fangs bared and eyes red with animalistic fury...death was coming...be it her's or their's it mattered not. The cornered animal struck...pity those who had cornered it.