Open Welcome to Barrow Falls

[Solitude]

There was a thrill of being in a fight like this, always lurking in the shadows and waiting for when someone's guard was down did feel like cheating. Sometimes it felt too easy. She often failed but when it was easy it felt like stealing candy from a baby. Up high on the rooftop, dodging projectiles while throwing her special knives, her heart sang. This felt like freedom, and courage, and all the things she normally didn't feel being an assassin following orders and keeping her head low.

One of the creepy kids managed to get her when she wasn't paying attention, a sharp shard of a door hinge flew throw the palm of her hand with so much force it left a gaping hole as it continued its own pursuit of freedom. A moment later, the town was deciding to be a ghost town once again.

"Fucking shit," Solitude dived down, holding her injured hand up in the air above her, not wanting to infect it with the grime of this awful place. Stupid fuckers, Solitude seethed, finding that the missing piece of her hand was definitely causing her a whole lot of pain despite being gone. Blood was everywhere, matching her crimson eyes squinting in pain. Sucking in a hiss of air, Solitude could hear one of the ladies down below call to her. She hadn't bothered to listen about anything else, up on that rooftop, alone, she stared up at the fog.

They lost someone from their group. They want to search for him.

Her hand wasn't healing. Solitude got on one hand and both knees, began to crawl to where the shadows grew in a corner. There, she would find the Mother's embrace.

Something is coming.

Solitude felt her shadow stir, her sister getting anxious. Kinlocked, her twin wouldn't be able to leave, no matter how much she wanted to. If Sol stayed, so did Rosario. That didn't mean the living twin thought about staying. Shadows welcomed her with their cool whispers, ushering her deeper into that corner. She could feel the air still taste of danger and impending doom.

"So I should go?" Solitude asked aloud, stretching her bleeding hand out to the darkest part of the shadow. She began her favorite prayer, the first one she had learned by heart. It was one she recited often and it was definitely something not to brag about, especially among those of her faith.

Obviously, we need to hide then get out of here. Following those two who want to search around for a friend... her shadowkin spat unkindly at their stupidity. Solitude didn't always listen to the fox made entirely of shadows, but her sister was encouraging her to listen, pleading with her to swallow her foolish pride and to take Celosia's rational advice. The two women would be find without her. Her hand stopped bleeding, but the hole remained. Here, the Mother could only do so much.

"Fine," Solitude raised her head just enough. "Let's go."

And so the assassin parted ways with the trio, using darkness and shadows to slip pass like a fleeting dream before opening one's eyes. She wished the three of them luck, they would obviously need it. The only thing she regretted was wasting so many of her fire-starting blades and not going back to snag them. Her sister reminded her that her life was worth more than a few silver coins.

 

[Momoshiro]

The statue did not hurry. It simply stood there, impossibly tall and utterly still, its iron wings scraping against the buildings on either side of the street. Rust flaked from its body with every minute movement, drifting down like reddish snow. Beneath the folds of its weathered robes, ancient joints groaned as the statue slowly straightened to its full height.

Its face remained serene. Beautiful, even. That was perhaps the worst part. No rage. No hunger. No expression at all. Only those empty, sculpted features turned toward the two figures before it as though they were something being studied rather than something that could possibly threaten it.

Then its head tilted, a slow, unnatural movement. The statue's gaze settled upon Osytha first, and its great iron sword shifted. The weapon came free of the ground with a shriek that set teeth on edge, and for one heartbeat the creature simply held it there, the tip hovering above the street.

Then it moved.

Far too quickly for something so large.

The sword swept across the street in a brutal horizontal arc, tearing through the fog and sending a wave of displaced air rushing ahead of it. The blade passed through the space where Osytha had stood a moment before, missing flesh by inches as its momentum carried it onward. The sword slammed into the nearest building instead, biting deep into timber and plaster with a thunderous crack. The statue did not pause to admire its handiwork. It wrenched the blade free and stepped forward, one enormous foot coming down hard enough to buckle the street beneath it.

Another step followed, and its wings shifted outward with a grinding shriek. The iron feathers screamed against the surrounding buildings as they spread, forcing the statue's upper body into the open street.

For just a moment, its back turned fully toward them.

And there, between the great wings, something caught the sickly light.

A single iron pin.

It was enormous, perhaps the width of a man's forearm, driven horizontally through the statue's upper back where the wings met the central body. Unlike the rest of the creature, the metal was not rusted. It was dark, almost black, and polished smooth from age or use. Several thick plates converged around it, as though the entire construction had been built around that one fastening point.

Then the statue moved again, hiding it beneath one wing.

Its sword came up.

The blow came downward.

Not at either of them, but at the ground between them. The blade crashed into the cobblestones with enough force to fracture the street, sending broken stone and splinters of masonry scattering in every direction. The impact left the weapon buried for a moment, and the statue leaned forward over it, its expressionless face peering through the settling dust.

Almost curious.

Then those great wings snapped open.

The sudden movement exposed its back once more. The pin was still there.

For the briefest instant, the statue's body seemed to sag around it.

A metallic groan traveled through the creature from its shoulders to its feet.

The statue straightened.

The groan stopped.

Whatever had happened, it had passed.

But the sound had been unmistakable.

Something within the creature had shifted.

Its head turned toward Margot. The sword came free of the ground, followed by a single step, then another. With the next, the statue lunged.

Its blade flashed through the fog in a vicious diagonal cut aimed across Margot's position, the edge passing dangerously close as the creature twisted its enormous body to bring the strike around. Before the momentum had fully carried it through, its free hand swept after the attack, fingers splayed wide as though attempting to catch whatever the sword had failed to cut.

The hand closed on nothing.

The statue's fingers curled slowly inward. It looked at them, then back at the two women.

And the awful, grinding screech of iron against stone began again as it dragged the sword across the street, lowering its stance for another attack.

Behind it, the great wings twitched.

And for the first time, the statue seemed almost protective of its back.