{Open} --- Eulogy

[braylar]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=align,center][atrb=style, padding: 20px; border: 1px dotted #ffffff; background-color: #488240; -moz-box-shadow: 5px 5px 5px #000000;] but what is this that I can't see with ice cold hands taking hold of me ♠ WORDS: 427 ♠ TAGS open currently ♠ TEMPLATE by crayola ♠ LYRICS by Jen Titus A thick layer of clouds covered the sky, giving everything an overcast and ambient look about it. It was a perfectly miserable day for a funeral. Not even a ray of sunlight could be spotted in the sky to shed even a little bit of happiness on the ceremony taking place in the middle of the cemetery. Everyone was dressed in black, huddled around an open grave with a casket sitting atop of it. Of course, it was going to be an empty casket they were burying. A lone girl stood next to a tree nestled atop a tiny mound several meters from the sight, arms crossed over her chest and a smug, yet somewhat bored expression on her face. It had been a particularly satisfying kill and she was taking more pleasure than she would have imagined she could from watching the family members of her latest victim mourn. Perhaps they should have watched the seven year old a little closer. As far as she was concerned, parents negligent enough to let their child wander into the swamp alone deserved to be childless. Braylar Fawn wanted to believe that they would take a little bit of solace in the fact that he had been put to good use. There was no better honor than to be used to keep someone alive, to be used to strengthen another so they could go on with their lives. . . . Of course, they wouldn’t take solace. And Braylar was alright with that. Her bright, azure eyes narrowed slightly as she gazed over the group, trying to decide if maybe one of them would be someone who could join the boy. . . . But none of them drew her interest. It had been days, though, since the child, and she would have liked to find another meal. . . . Throw on the charms of a pretty girl to a mourning father, uncle, cousin. . . . It would be child’s play. She allowed the corners of her mouth to uplift into a mischievous smile, but she figured it was too risky, picking two members of the same family within the span of a week. Besides, easy prey was too. . . well easy. Sighing, she spun around and strafed around the tree, only to stop inches away from running into someone. Watch where you’re bloody going you oaf! she thought bitterly in her head, suppressing the urge to kick the person in the shin. “Oh, excuse me!” she piped instead, smiling ruefully. “I was in such a hurry I hadn’t realized where I was going.” ♠ NOTES: Um. Idk. Whatever yo.

[Morgan Liakoura Garner]

got my heart Here in my hands now

I've been searching For my wings some time I'm gonna be born

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=align,center][atrb=style,width: 450px; background-color: #301213;] It was a stereotypical scene for a funeral, the clouds hanging from the firmament as hot tears fell from the eyes of everyone crowded around the grave. And while the sky was beginning to bruise, all that was missing was the drip, drip, drop of rain mixed with the rolling, booming tones of thunder. In all senses it had been a pointless death, a curious child venturing out into the big world only to be drowned and lost to the swamps of New Orleans. Well, that was the official story and report, at least. But these sort of deaths had been on the rise lately, reports of children going missing in the swamps, blaming the negligence of the parents when it wasn't really their fault at all. Those few who really understood what had caused such misery and woe could never be believed by a supposedly rational society; after all, it had taken them five-hundred years to get used to the idea of living with bloodsuckers. Stuffing a cheap cigarette into her mouth, lighting it a second later with a disposable lighter, the woman walked the perimeter of the graveyard, eyes cast down as she thought. She had been following the cases for some time now, cutting out every article that appeared in the newspapers. She had always been told she would make a great cop but she preferred being a lone ranger, following up her own leads, not conforming to standard rules. She worked better alone. Exhaling a long cloud of smoke, she gave a small cry of shock when somebody walked right into her. Dropping her cigarette on the floor as she stumbled backwards, slamming her right hand against the wall surrounding the graveyard, steadying herself. "Watch where you're going," she snapped, turning her gaze on the woman who had bumped into her. What on earth was she doing lingering in a graveyard anyway?

Credit to Crayola

[braylar]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=align,center][atrb=style, padding: 20px; border: 1px dotted #ffffff; background-color: #488240; -moz-box-shadow: 5px 5px 5px #000000;] but what is this that I can't see with ice cold hands taking hold of me ♠ WORDS: 322 ♠ TAGS morgan ♠ TEMPLATE by crayola ♠ LYRICS by Jen Titus Had she not had better control of herself, Braylar might have jumped ten feet back at the harried and. . . what was it. . . vicious expression on the girl’s face. Not because it was scary, but because Braylar had expected something. . . more than what she was staring at. She had to struggle with all of her self-control to keep her nose from scrunching up in disgust, but she managed with just a little bit of tensing in the shoulders, easily mistaken for a reaction to the harsh words spat at her. No one would miss her if I devoured her, she thought wistfully, giving the woman a quick up-down glance. Too gamey. . . but her attitude irks me. . . maybe I’ll just drown her and make the world a better place. . . . Braylar took a step back and once again offered the woman a subdued, rueful smile and clasped her hands in front of her. “I’m terribly sorry. . . . It won’t happen again,” she nearly whispered, voice cracking as if she had just spent a good amount of time crying. However, anyone who cared enough to look closely at her would not find swollen and red eyes. Though she was good, Braylar wasn't that good. She might have even been incapable of crying at all. She glanced back at the funeral and then took another step back. “Were you here for the service, too? I was visiting a grave myself. . . I don’t know anyone here but funerals always get to me for reason,” she sighed, keeping her gaze over her shoulder and on the funeral in order to keep herself from having to look at the ghastly woman. The casket had just started to be lowered and a woman—presumably the mother of the child—strode briskly away, too torn up to even watch. The Kelpie could hear her sobs from on top of the slight incline. ♠ NOTES: Sorry it's kinda short.

[Morgan Liakoura Garner]

got my heart Here in my hands now

I've been searching For my wings some time I'm gonna be born

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=align,center][atrb=style,width: 450px; background-color: #301213;] Unremarkable dirty green eyes stared at the woman as her shoulders shifted into a different position, giving off a particularly tense body language to the bounty hunter. Was the bitch preparing herself for a fight? Liakoura hoped not, she really had no interest in fighting in a graveyard when there was family still lingering about, weeping into handkerchiefs, that sort of mournful nonsense. If the stupid bitch wanted a fight then they would have to arrange for another time, Friday maybe, midday. Sneering as the woman sent her orbs wandering up and down the bounty hunter's body, Liakoura picked her still burning cigarette up off the floor. Blowing a little dirt that had attached itself to the paper; she shoved the cancer stick back through her lips, smoking away as she tucked her hands into her trouser pockets. She had decided to dress in an entirely black suit, a creased white shirt with a thin black tie, not to mention the large black boots she was also wearing. She couldn't help but think, exhaling smoke out through her nose, how nice it would be to stamp repeatedly on this bitch's head. Ruin her pretty little face. Noting the woman's smile, interlocked hands and apologetic manner, Liakoura couldn't help but let an expression of disgust cross her face. "Well, aren't you quite the picture of innocence?" Pulling the cigarette from her mouth, coughing on the back of her hand, she responded to the woman's apology, "Whatever. Forget about it." The bitch was putting her on edge and she didn't even know why, although it could have something to do with the forced innocence she was witnessing. It turned her stomach. There was definitely something up with this woman and it never paid to pretend as if everyone you met wasn't out to kill you. Liakoura, stuffing the cigarette back through her lips, pretended to check her mobile while she actually unclipped the semi-automatic cradled under her left armpit. Checking her phone, noting the time, she stuffed it back in her pocket, letting her right handle dangle by her side. She wasn't dying tonight. Following the bitch's gaze to the now descending casket, she muttered in response, "Not exactly." Casting her eyes off to the left, scanning the countless graves that made up the cemetery, she wondered when she would next have the opportunity to kill one of the supernatural scum lurking in the shadows. She hoped the bitch was one of the kinds she enjoyed gunning down.

Credit to Crayola

[braylar]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=align,center][atrb=style, padding: 20px; border: 1px dotted #ffffff; background-color: #488240; -moz-box-shadow: 5px 5px 5px #000000;] but what is this that I can't see with ice cold hands taking hold of me ♠ WORDS: 353 ♠ TAGS Morgan ♠ TEMPLATE by crayola ♠ LYRICS by Jen Titus This time, Braylar was unable to keep her brow from twitching in anger. What crawled up in her and died? she thought sourly, the smile fading and expression hardening. There was only so much she could handle, and this woman seemed intent on making her angry. . . . And it was, unfortunately, working. Why don’t you come to the lake with me. . . . I’ll rectify that attitude of yours, she thought bitterly to herself, hands clenching into fists. If there was one thing she could do, she could make people come with her. Well, it worked best on horny men and trusting children, anyway. She figured this one was going to be a bit more of a challenge than the ones she’d drowned before. . . . Braylar almost thought it wouldn’t even be worth her time. . . . No matter how beautifully she might thrash under the waves. Oh there was nothing like the memories to calm her down. Braylar let her mind wander for a second or two to her last victims, thrashing, digging their fingers into her skin, mouths agape as they tried so desperately to get a lungful of air. . . . She let her gaze wander from the funeral back to the angry little harlot and she gave her a deadpan look, any attempts at coyness gone, though she was remarkably less angry than she had been seconds ago. The wonders death could do for a killer. “Then why are you here? Visiting a lost loved one?” she asked, a little more sharpness in her voice despite how she attempted to carry on the conversation. “Offer condolences? Laugh at people’s misery?” Maybe she could work in a kill in after all, if she played her cards right. It was risky. . . working in the middle of a cemetery with nothing but a shallow pond. It had to be at least half a person tall, at least, and that was plenty enough room for kelpie to do her work. . . . People might spot them. . . but that was half of the excitement anyway, wasn’t it? ♠ NOTES: B'aw you upset her.

[Morgan Liakoura Garner]

got my heart Here in my hands now

I've been searching For my wings some time I'm gonna be born

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=align,center][atrb=style,width: 450px; background-color: #301213;] While her facial features didn't move to give way to displays of smugness, having definitely made the woman's brow twitch in anger, drawing out her true personality that had tried so hard to hide behind her act of innocence. So, having established the bitch as a trickster, there was no going back now, Liakoura knew she could not trust this woman and whatever she said at all. The bounty hunter's unsympathetic eyes narrowed a little as she watched the woman stood in front of her begin to get lost in her own thoughts. The typical glaze taking over the eyes that wandered a little, it was times like these that she envied the vampire's ability to read the minds of others. But she would sooner die than become a vampire or whatever scum was out there, like whatever was luring all of those children to their deaths out in the swamps. As long as she had breath in her body, she would stop such scum from doing harm to humans. Matching the bitch's expression, refusing to give anything away through the twitch of a muscle here or there, Liakoura replied, "To see who turns up for the funeral." Attending funerals as an outsider was always quite beneficial, while the family were blind to those that attended, somebody emotionless and objective would pick up on a great deal. From years of experience, the hunter knew that nearly all egotistical murders returned to the scene of the crime or couldn't help but turn up for the funeral. She couldn't help but narrow her eyes again as she studied the woman's face. "Who exactly are you mourning over?" And the thing about egotistical killers, they loved to brag.

Credit to Crayola

[braylar]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=align,center][atrb=style, padding: 20px; border: 1px dotted #ffffff; background-color: #488240; -moz-box-shadow: 5px 5px 5px #000000;] but what is this that I can't see with ice cold hands taking hold of me ♠ WORDS: 413 ♠ TAGS Morgan ♠ TEMPLATE by crayola ♠ LYRICS by Jen Titus Suspicion filled Braylar with the woman’s reason and she cocked her head over so slightly, struggling to keep her poker face up, to not allow her brows to knit together and her eyes to narrow. This woman was up to something, looking for someone—or something—that was for sure. Who was she? A cop? One of those pesky Spook Squad bozos that had been sniffing around her swamp? Or just a curious little woman who knew her folklore? I can’t kill her if she’s a cop. . . . I’ll have the whole precinct and the entire Spook Squad after me! I’ll have to move. . . . Find a new swamp! But the ones here are cleaner. . . . Full of curious people wandering around. . . . Bah. . . , she thought bitterly to herself, giving her another quick glance over. She looked like she could be a cop, but then again everyone looked like they could be a cop. I’ll have to find out who she is! If she’s a cop or not. . . . Then I’ll be sure. . . . Know thy enemy. Hmph. Bitch doesn’t seem to interested in making friends though. “Who would show up but the family to a funeral? Well besides close friends. Do you know who’s funeral it is, anyway? It’d be terribly rude if I were to go down and ask. . . but I was cradling a slight curiosity,” she said thoughtfully, lifting a hand to push her long blonde hair over her shoulders. The green strip shimmered slightly. The Kelpie was slightly taken aback by the woman’s question. Crap! Who am I mourning over! she thought desperately glancing in one direction, staring at a cluster of graves at the bottom of the incline, most likely marking the burial ground of some family lineage over the years. Taking a couple steps, Braylar stepped up next to the woman and leaned slightly toward her, as if to get a better idea of what angle the woman was looking in. Biting her bottom lip, she pointed in the general direction of the cluster of headstones. “There. . . my father died recently. . . about a year ago. I usually try to visit as often as I can, but I haven’t been able to the last couple of months. . . ,” she trailed off, dropping her arm and then stepping aside to give the woman her space again. Braylar desperately hoped the woman wouldn’t go investigate. ♠ NOTES: Sorry it took me so long. Hopefully my posts are getting better.

[Morgan Liakoura Garner]

got my heart Here in my hands now

I've been searching For my wings some time I'm gonna be born

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=align,center][atrb=style,width: 450px; background-color: #301213;] Finishing her cigarette off, the hunter threw it down at the ground, following it with her gaze as she crushed it under the tip of her left boot. She knew she would be in an early grave because of them, but she was risking her neck every time she left the house, she had made plenty of enemies over the years. And she was probably going to make another one any minute now. She couldn't help but let a small laugh escape from her mouth, laughing at the woman's act of stupidity. While she didn't have the power to detect a person's species, Liakoura was very apt at reading people. "Some stupid little kid," she responded, deciding not to disclose her belief that supernatural powers had crafted his death. Shifting a little to the left as the woman came and stood next to her, the hunter watched as she pointed at a small bunch of gravestones. While she couldn't make out the names, she could see that there weren't any flowers resting on top of said graves. "No flowers," she observed. "Can't have been much of a father, then." It was time to push some of her buttons a little harder, try and get the bitch to react, some extreme emotion to coax out her true form, reveal her true species. Fishing the cheap packet of cigarettes back out, Liakoura looked over at the funeral, the mourners shuffling as the priest read the last of his silly incantations. Sure, she knew the creator was up on high and the destroyer was stuck down below, but she lacked the religious impulse. Yet one of the benefits of being her was that she could read biblical verses and still watch demons writhe in pain in response to them. H'm. Perhaps it's time for a little test, the hunter thought to herself. Holding onto the unlit cigarette, Liakoura muttered, "For as high as the heavens are above the earth, so great is his love for those who fear him." Pushing the little white stick between her lips, lighting it a second later, she exhaled a large cloud of smoke. "Amen." Now, just to wait and see if the stupid bitch dropped to her knees and screamed in agony. Liakoura wasn't convinced she was human, then again she suspected that of everybody she ever came across.

Credit to Crayola

[braylar]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=align,center][atrb=style, padding: 20px; border: 1px dotted #ffffff; background-color: #488240; -moz-box-shadow: 5px 5px 5px #000000;] but what is this that I can't see with ice cold hands taking hold of me ♠ WORDS: 482 ♠ TAGS Morgan ♠ TEMPLATE by crayola ♠ LYRICS by Jen Titus The lack of flowers was brought to attention and Braylar brushed it off with a healthy laugh. “He never liked flowers. I think he’d turn in his grave if he knew I was leaving him a bundle of plants that was going to dry out and die in three days. ‘Is that what you think of me?’ he’d say,” she reminisced, her voice fond and drifting slightly as she cocked her head toward the sky, staring at the dreary, overcast clouds. Try to throw me off. . . . I'll show you! You can't take me off my game that easily! Her head turned back to the woman when she mentioned it was a child who had died and her brows knit slightly, mouth dropping open slightly. “What?” she nearly whispered, as if appalled by the idea. “That’s so sad. . . . I wonder what happened. . . .” She let her head fall slightly, eyes slightly lidded. However, the thought that passed through her head was an answer to her own question: He was delicious-looking and easy to trick, that’s what happened. Children love pretty little ponies. Braylar sat there in silence for a few seconds, as if giving the child a moment, but she was running ideas through her head on what she should do next. Leave? Continue the conversation? It seemed the conversation itself had withered quite a bit so taking her leave would have been the better response. . . . She didn’t like this woman anyway and she was far too worried that killing her would bring down the hammer of justice even more than it was already. . . . She lifted her head to excuse herself, and then— “For as high as the heavens are above the earth, so great is his love for those who fear him. Amen.” The Kelpie’s body went rigid and it felt as if there was a weight on her chest. A tremor shot down her spine, making it look as if she had just got the chills. Her suspicions seems aptly confirmed right then and she turned toward the woman with a faint smile. “I must get going. I enjoyed our talk,” she muttered brusquely, turning tail to flee. Braylar didn't care how suspicious it looked. What was that! Gwaaaah! I’m no demon but dammit that whole nonsense bothers me! I don’t know what I would have done if she’d actually named him out loud. . . , she thought bitterly to herself, unable to keep herself from storming away angrily. It had been enough, though, that more green was showing in her hair, the ends starting to drip as if they had gotten wet. Anymore and she would have lost her illusion completely! Right there in the middle of the cemetery with a group of people not but on hundred feet away! I’ll kill you for this! I’ll find you and trample you to death! ♠ NOTES: B'aw you made her leave.

[Morgan Liakoura Garner]

got my heart Here in my hands now

I've been searching For my wings some time I'm gonna be born

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=align,center][atrb=style,width: 450px; background-color: #301213;] If Liakoura didn't already hate the woman as much as she already did, she might just have applauded the woman's skill in dodging the little hurdle she had set up. If she was supernatural, then the hunter was well aware her potential opponent had a mind that worked almost as quickly as her own. She had turned up to see if the murderer showed their face, she had been preparing herself for a fight all afternoon, but she had to confirm this woman wasn't human. Continuing to fix her gaze on the procession of mourners, the hunter was thankful to see that they were beginning to leave the cemetery. If she was about to engage in a fight, she didn't particularly want a bunch of hysterical humans around. "They think he drowned in the swamp," she explained coldly. "But they never found the body so there's no way of telling really." Of course the family didn't have the sort of experience that Liakoura had, they would never suspect that some supernatural force had been at work in killing their beloved son. Having uttered the ending of her little prayer, the hunter pretended not to notice the woman's reactions to the biblical passage. While she hadn't dropped to the floor and screamed in agony, there had been a definite reaction to the Holy Scripture. Liakoura was admittedly pleased the woman wasn't a demon as they were an absolute bitch to vanquish. And she was clearly leaving because of what had just befallen her, making her escape quickly before Liakoura had a chance to unload more of the Lord's word upon the cemetery. But she wasn't getting away that easily. Turning slightly, looking over her shoulder at the woman, she kept her facial expression completely deadpan. "Do you shy away from the word of God?" With her back still facing the woman, Liakoura slowly reached her hand into her black jacket, hand slowly enclosing the handle of her firearm, the action completely obscured to the woman suspected of being supernatural. Since her sister had been murdered, this hunter had made it her life goal to see the world rid of every single creature that threatened to disturb the peace for which humanity aimed.

Credit to Crayola

[braylar]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=align,center][atrb=style, padding: 20px; border: 1px dotted #ffffff; background-color: #488240; -moz-box-shadow: 5px 5px 5px #000000;] but what is this that I can't see with ice cold hands taking hold of me ♠ WORDS: 277 ♠ TAGS Morgan ♠ TEMPLATE by crayola ♠ LYRICS by Jen Titus Of course they didn’t find the body. . . . I ate most of it! Braylar thought smugly, managing to keep an equally smug grin off of her flawless features. The Kelpie slowly halted her getaway when the woman asked her another question and she had to take a second to steady herself before turning around giving the woman a smart-assed grin. “That’s a silly notion,” she remarked with a slight dip of her head, tresses of blond hair falling past her exposed shoulder. “Why would I shy away from the word of the Lord?” It’s just that if you keep prattling off about him I won’t be able to disguise myself anymore! Dammit I probably wouldn’t even be able to keep her on my back let alone drown her if she likes to spout out scripture, she thought angrily to herself. I’m so freaking mad I could spit right now. Well, scripture won’t keep me from trampling you into a pancake! Her gaze shifted to the ending ceremony. People were starting to leave, but a few lingered to talk and give their final words of respect and love. Like the kid could hear them anyway. Braylar moved her hair out of her face and continued. “I just have a few places that I need to be and I’m afraid that I’ve lingered to long here in this cemetery. . . . Can’t spend all day standing out here mourning over someone’s who’s been dead for a while, right?” she commented, taking a few more steps away. “I’m terribly sorry if it seems I’ve been rude. . . . It wasn’t my intention.” She’d be too hard to trick onto my back anyway. ♠ NOTES: Sorry it took me so long! I was trying to make the post not-lame. I think I failed.

[Morgan Liakoura Garner]

got my heart Here in my hands now

I've been searching For my wings some time I'm gonna be born

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=align,center][atrb=style,width: 450px; background-color: #301213;] Careful to keep the front of her body hidden from the woman, Liakoura kept her hand firmly gripped on her firearm, the tip of her index finger stroking the trigger, eager to rid the world of another supernatural scumbag. It was obvious the suspected female was trying to leave the cemetery, so this hunter would have to persist with her scripture recital, hoping to draw the beast that might be lying beneath her pretty little human form. Surely it wouldn't be long now. The expression on her face still dead in terms of emotion, coupled with her probing and steely eyes, Liakoura didn't bother to follow the woman's gaze, probably watching the grieving family. "Every one of us shall give account of himself to God," she quoted. "Do you have many unconfessed sins, girl?" She laughed internally, sounding more and more like her grandfather the minister. Secretly she missed the afternoons spent in the garden, sitting at his feet while he retold her stories from the Bible, no idea how useful his influence would be. Listening to the woman's closing remarks, the hunter couldn't help but let a small smirk escape. If she paid the right price, she could be talking to her long dead father in a matter of moments, although Liakoura wasn't buying the "visiting a dead relative" excuse, she never did; it was almost as common as the "dog ate my homework" excuse. Cheap and lacking imagination. Bloody idiots. Releasing her grip on the gun, Liakoura slipped her hand slowly out from within her jacket. Deciding instead to stuff her hands into the outer pockets of her dark jacket, her fingers played with two compact weapons. She couldn't risk drawing her gun on the woman; if her instincts were wrong and she threatened a human then she would have a hell of a time explaining herself to the police. "Whatever. See you around." She didn't trust her, but the hunter's hands were tied until she saw evidence proving the woman wasn't human after all.

Credit to Crayola

[braylar]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=align,center][atrb=style, padding: 20px; border: 1px dotted #ffffff; background-color: #488240; -moz-box-shadow: 5px 5px 5px #000000;] but what is this that I can't see with ice cold hands taking hold of me ♠ WORDS: 380 ♠ TAGS Morgan ♠ TEMPLATE by crayola ♠ LYRICS by Jen Titus The hunter attempted once again to throw her defenses, but the quote was short and weak, able to be passed off as idle chatting and Braylar turned away from her with the goodbye, finally smiling openly, jubilantly as she started down the short hill, practically skipping with happiness as she escaped, glamour intact. Aha! Getting away scott free! Scott free I say! she thought smugly to herself, smile still plastered all over her flawless features, arms swinging slightly by her side. That human had been getting at something, but she’d given up entirely too quickly! However, all was not lost for the hunter. Braylar passed too close to the priest and what little of the group of grievers that remained. Her position on the hill had given her ample amount of space to barely hear the words the preacher man was prattling off, a mere irritation, but she wandered too closely, getting far too cocky in her minor victory over the human she had spoke with briefly. He was in the middle of his ending speech, comforting the few who remained with more lines from the bible. . . . Braylar stopped short, leg lifted slightly still to take another step and an deep tremor slithered down her spine and she turned her head, fighting mentally to keep the glamour intact. . . . But too quickly her skin faded into a pasty, damp, black-green color. Even more streaks of green appeared in her hair, her face slowly elongating and become green. It almost looked like she was getting sick. . . . She tried to scurry onward, arms wrapped around her chest. . . but it was too late. She overheard a few more lines. . . and the glamour exploded away from her—figuratively—and where there had once stood a young girl now stood a hulking, dripping wet, horse. Preacher and company fell completely silently. The full-blown kelpie stood there, head lowered and jet eyes locked onto the preacher, main dripping and water pooling around her hooves. Once she snorted, nostrils flared, and then she let out a horrendously raged noise and lunged forward, front hooves kicking out to catch the surprised preacher in the chest, sending him sprawling to the ground before she rounded on the next closest person. And then the screaming started. ♠ NOTES: Sorry it took me so long! Again.

[Morgan Liakoura Garner]

got my heart Here in my hands now

I've been searching For my wings some time I'm gonna be born

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=align,center][atrb=style,width: 450px; background-color: #301213;] Watching the woman as she went, Liakoura kept her hands firmly in her pockets, still toying with the weapons she had been ready to use in hand-to-hand combat had it come to that. On the one hand she was pleased that she didn't have to fight, not wishing to attract the attention of nosey ghouls, but then again she was desperately trying to find the one killing all of the children who wandered into the swamps. She had a feeling it was the woman but she couldn't start a fight without any evidence. Moving toward the tree, the hunter came to rest against it and watched the woman as she moved between the gravestones with such finesse. Her dirty green eyes moved to the priest who was still dealing the last of his holy scripture to the congregated mourners. Folding her arms, Liakoura wondered if she would ever catch the child killer... Eyes widening a little, she soaked up the sight of the woman buckling and writhing, looking like she was in a considerable amount of pain. What had happened to her? Attention darting from the woman to the priest, it was clear she was reacting to the sacred lines being uttered, in the same way she had reacted when the hunter had quoted some of the Holy Bible. Knowing only trouble could come of this, Liakoura slipped her hands into the outer pockets of her jacket, fingers slipping into blessed silver knuckledusters. Flashing them in the descending twilight, the hunter reached inside her jacket, in search of a handgun. Removing one of her glocks from its sling, the hunter held the semi-automatic pistol in both hands and and ran down the embankment, away from the standalone tree. Coming to rest by a grave, Liakoura knelt down and used the headstone to support her gun as she narrowed her eyes. Perfect vision, concentrating on the woman transforming and kicking the priest, most likely crushing his chest, killing him almost instantly. She said a quick prayer for him as his soul departed. Flipping off the safety, index finger starting to tighten on the trigger, Liakoura muttered, "Time to die, bitch." Firing two rounds, both of them encased in blessed silver, aiming one at the kelpie's head and flank. Yes, she knew what she was, and everything seemed to slot into place and make sense. What creature could take up home in the swamps and lure innocent humans to their death? Kelpies.

Credit to Crayola