[ Shockingly, the attacker in white does listen to her. The one he'd beaten half to death is left behind, and Fern gets just enough of a glimpse to see the mark of the crescent moon carved into the victim's arm, leaking at the edges.
Serial killers often leave calling cards with their victims. Could this be...?
The masked man approaches her, but it doesn't appear to be with the intent of violence. That, she might have expected, if he didn't want witnesses, but he seems almost... proud of what he's done? It's hard to know, with that mask and the eerie flatness of his voice. The closer he comes to her, the more she tenses, ready to dart forward with her dagger to defend herself.
He deserved it, is the claim, and Fern shoots a glance at the man still crumpled on his side on the hard ground of the alley, clutching his arm and then his battered face. She has no way of knowing that, but she can't keep her attention from the masked man for too long, not when she's still anticipating how this can go further south.
At his assessment of her, she frowns and shakes her head. If she's associated with night or day, she would say night. Not in the way a vampire is, or even a werewolf (appearances aside), but because she is a rogue, an assassin, and night is where she does best. ]
... I don't think so. [ Her reply is uncertain, but mainly she's trying to keep his attention so that maybe the injured man can get to his feet and make a break for it. ] I work better in the night, but that's beside the point. You were attacking someone back at that mall too, weren't you? Just what made any of them deserve it?
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Serial killers often leave calling cards with their victims. Could this be...?
The masked man approaches her, but it doesn't appear to be with the intent of violence. That, she might have expected, if he didn't want witnesses, but he seems almost... proud of what he's done? It's hard to know, with that mask and the eerie flatness of his voice. The closer he comes to her, the more she tenses, ready to dart forward with her dagger to defend herself.
He deserved it, is the claim, and Fern shoots a glance at the man still crumpled on his side on the hard ground of the alley, clutching his arm and then his battered face. She has no way of knowing that, but she can't keep her attention from the masked man for too long, not when she's still anticipating how this can go further south.
At his assessment of her, she frowns and shakes her head. If she's associated with night or day, she would say night. Not in the way a vampire is, or even a werewolf (appearances aside), but because she is a rogue, an assassin, and night is where she does best. ]
... I don't think so. [ Her reply is uncertain, but mainly she's trying to keep his attention so that maybe the injured man can get to his feet and make a break for it. ] I work better in the night, but that's beside the point. You were attacking someone back at that mall too, weren't you? Just what made any of them deserve it?