Nazara

Night was on them now, and the city gleamed under the starlight and glistening glow of the skyscrapers. Nazara felt somewhat at home here, perhaps it was Claire’s familiarity of the city that made her feel a little… nostalgic? Maybe, the scion didn’t might care. She enjoyed the way downtown glistened, and the crowds of people.

It was easier to blend in. No one had given her a second glance (well there was that one creeper in the alley) as she strode down the street. Cars of all sorts hurried by, even in the night. She had little love for humanity, but she did enjoy their inventions. If her memory served her as well as it no doubt did, Claire had a car. Some little sporty thing that at some point the scion would have to go fetch.

Now, normally she would be content resting, but so much had changed since Nazara’s last appearance. She could remember numerous lives, but she hadn’t actually lived any of them. No, instead some little mockery of her - some human form that had always been… simple… simple in idea at least. They were so very straight forward: countless lives being in wars, other lives being missionaries of sorts. Nazara found most the memories boring.

I find war boring, now that’s surprising. She smirked at her own little thought, turning off the main street and wandering towards industrial. She could smell smoke and almost taste the pollution wafting from the facilities. Nazara didn’t frown, but she didn’t find herself enjoying that particular talent of humanity. She stood on the edge for a moment, crossing her arms and staring down the street. Casually she looked down at her hand and flexed it, hearing the joints crack as it formed into a fist. I wonder if I remember how to fight as well as my memory implies.

There was no doubt ‘bad guys’ in such a place, and Nazara was intent on finding some.



“Bitch owed me.”

Definitely not hard to find. Nazara watched, half-curious of the group of five men gathered around a lit barrel. They were dirty, well most of them, one was notably larger than the rest. He actually didn’t seem to care much what the others were saying. He had a lighter in his hand, flicking it open and shut methodically as he looked around.

“Didn’t want to pay up, says she couldn’t pay rent. Well, she’s gonna have one hell of a time payin’ rent with a hospital bill rackin’ up. She’s probably in a coma.”

Oh, such a gentlemen. Admittedly, the scion cared nothing for the woman that had been hurt. Whether it was rape, a beating or murder, she could care less. But she did feel something in her twist at the thought of this dead-beat having the advantage over anyone.

She watched them talk a little while longer, and noted how the big one just seemed to antagonize the others. A couple of times it almost seemed like he touched the fire without burning. The others didn’t notice, of course not.

Idiots. The only one I have to watch out for is the barbarian. Nazara crept along the roof like a cat, her eyes glowing dimly in anticipation. He’s still only human, and no human can hope to lay a finger on me.

“Fuck you man, you don’t know shit about-“

The man’s sentence was abruptly cut off by Nazara delivering a powerful kick to the back of his head as she leapt. She landed rather well, but her target went head over heels to the ground, either unconscious or dead, and she didn’t care which. Her eyes flicked to the remaining four, all the smaller ones had backed up, one grabbing a crowbar, and the others raising their fists.

“Morons,” The barbarian snarled. “Kick her ass.”

“You’re not going to- AH!” The larger one threw one of them towards her, and his flounder punch found nothing but air. Nazara had side-stepped him easily, her fist flying out and colliding with the side of his head. He wavered, disorientated; she kicked him into the wall, making him fall.

The other two came at her, and she nimbly dodging the madly swinging crowbar, bouncing off the wall to deliver an elbow to the weaponless one’s face. There was a crack, and he fell, face broken and bleeding. He had rolled back to his leader, who promptly stomped on his neck and ended him.

Odd leader. She caught the crowbar and forced the last goon back, watching him with a cool expression. I suppose death is a great motivator to do what he wants.

The crowbar wielding lunatic charged, and Nazara leapt. She landed square on his shoulders, legs tightening around his head, she twisted, and heard that distinct, satisfying snap of the man’s neck. He collapsed and she bounced off of him, eyeing the largest one.

He spared the bodies a glance, tilting his head at the one she had put down.

“Never liked him.” He shrugged, looking at her with no concern at all. “You, though… you I like.”

Nazara’s eyes narrowed a tad. “I’m flattered.”

“Oh, the spitfire speaks…” He smirked, flicking his lighter still. “Well with them gone, I don’t need to share...”

Something told her he wouldn’t have shared even if they were alive.

The scion buried the emotions that were trying to control her. Distantly she could feel Claire’s residual fear, and her own temper trying to flare. Getting angry at the opponent wouldn’t increase her chances of winning; in fact it would impede them. Nazara simply watched, waiting for his move.

He was a hell-of-a lot faster then she had anticipated. Nazara ducked, dodging his swing, she slid to the left and kicked him, maybe moving him an inch to the side. He laughed, taking the attack that had put down one of his goons in stride.

Joy, the man has endurance.

She had figured as much when she had originally jumped down, but he hadn’t even blinked. She caught his swing, turning it into a flip, she sent him to the ground, roughly landing on his back. He got up a second later, that stupid, annoying smirk still on his face. Apparently this entire thing was amusing to him, and though she’d loved to wipe that stupid expression of his face, she needed to weight.

Attacking him would serve nothing. He was bigger, he was stronger, and he was fast.

Better to wait.

He charged her, and this time caught her as she attempted to dodge. His grip made her arm instantly ache and she frowned as that was probably going to bruise. Nazara let out a hiss in annoyance, not faltering she swung with her free hand, her fist smashing into the side of his face. He grunted, his grip slipped and she backpedaled, escaping what could’ve been a bit awkward to deal with.

“Bitch…” He grumbled, and she tilted his head at him.

Easy to anger.

“I’m sorry,” her voice taunted him. “Did I hurt you sweetheart?”

He chuckled at the taunt, but she could see the growing anger in his eyes. That glare would’ve made Claire weep and beg for her life, but not Nazara.

“You’ll regret sayin’ that.”

“I don’t think I will.”

The fight continued, and the more she seemed to dodge or repel his attacks, the more he became like a beast. Though the attacks were slightly easier to dodge, if any one of them hit it would be a disaster. She bounced off the wall, kicking him in the back of the head before landing. This had been a good little work out, but this really needed to end.

He turned round, and Nazara felt a twinge of nervousness. He moved forward, and kicked the flaming barrel over. The fire roared out, far more then it should’ve, and she shielding her face. When she looked again he was on her, and had grappled her. He picked up up, bending her a little too far in the wrong direction, causing her back to crack painfully before tossing her like garbage.

The wall, and the pipes running along it, were certainly painful. Nazara hissed, holding back a groan and a curse. Small bits of flame bit at her face and she shook her head, waving them off. She looked up at him, a glare that signified her growing frustration. That’s when she saw him standing in the flames, yet they didn’t hurt him, they did nothing to him but perhaps tickle. Ribbons of fire danced up his arms, spreading out like veins.

Not normal. She looked at the ground. It was wet, her eyes travelled to the pipes she had been thrown into. How extraordinarily convenient.

“You’re going to burn you whore …”

Nazara looked at him, and a smile crept onto her face. “Hello Fenrir.”

She rolled; energy igniting over her wrist, the brief image of a blade appeared as she sliced. The light-blade disappeared as soon as it appeared, showing nothing more than a blaze of blue white. Not that the newly revealed fire scion was paying attention. The water in the pipes rocketed out onto him, drenched him and the fire on the ground. He snarled, stumbling back as the liquid continued to pour onto him.

The light scion stood, her smile softening, she strode towards him, promptly kicking him square in the chest. He fell over, coughing and sputtering water but halted when her foot stomped on his chest. The blast of light appeared again, but the light-sword stayed, growing in size until the tip of the blade was dancing on his neck.

Fenrir’s raging eyes seemed to calm a bit as he eyed the sword and then looked back at her. “Nazara.”

She tilted her head, the smile kind but taunting. “Why doesn’t it surprise me I found you in the shittiest place of the city?”

He smirked, but still the anger was in his eyes. “You’re going to kill an old friend?”

Her eyebrow rose a bit. “You just lit me on fire,” the woman countered, letting the blade singe his neck a little. “I owe you.”

The blade moved up, touching his cheek, she gave it a light flick and watched as a slit in his skin formed and fresh, red blood began to form on his face. The sword disappeared, and Nazara watched the now drenched fire scion stand, shooting her a glare.

~ ~ ~

Tag Sam! Sorry if anythings off. o: