[It was luck more than plan that led Hayame to the canal at the exact time to notice a man whose face she has recently become intimately familiar with, burned into her memory alongside so many others who had bowed their head to the so-called Regent who claimed responsibility for the death of everything she'd ever known.
Pale skin. Hair like gold, feathered like a princess' lap dog. Eyes like moss. Two jo tall. Lean muscles. Eyeglasses.
He's alone. He's distracted enough, chasing after some native and trying to speak to them, as if any of these Kenoma should expect a joyous welcome when the Achamite guards roamed the streets as they did... So perhaps she is divinely favored this day. She will not let the opportunity slip.
She slips instead to the other side of the canal, following parallel to the golden man in her glamored appearance as a two-legged woman, travel-worn cloak obscuring form and face, her six-foot long bow obscured in a bundle of sticks like a peddler. Unbecoming of a warrior. Sneak attacks were equally unbecoming.
But her revenge was more important than what little scraps of dignity she had left.
He looks frustrated. The bundle of sticks clatters to the ground across the canal... her bow creaks as she draws back the string as far as it will go... and he has a matter of seconds to notice an arrow flying towards him, aimed straight for the heart.]
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Pale skin. Hair like gold, feathered like a princess' lap dog. Eyes like moss. Two jo tall. Lean muscles. Eyeglasses.
He's alone. He's distracted enough, chasing after some native and trying to speak to them, as if any of these Kenoma should expect a joyous welcome when the Achamite guards roamed the streets as they did... So perhaps she is divinely favored this day. She will not let the opportunity slip.
She slips instead to the other side of the canal, following parallel to the golden man in her glamored appearance as a two-legged woman, travel-worn cloak obscuring form and face, her six-foot long bow obscured in a bundle of sticks like a peddler. Unbecoming of a warrior. Sneak attacks were equally unbecoming.
But her revenge was more important than what little scraps of dignity she had left.
He looks frustrated. The bundle of sticks clatters to the ground across the canal... her bow creaks as she draws back the string as far as it will go... and he has a matter of seconds to notice an arrow flying towards him, aimed straight for the heart.]