She walked and she talked. A babbling brook, she crossed through the nook. The journey was long, she kept pace with her song. She continued to whisper, and the moonlight did kiss her. She soaked into the darkness, embraced with it the night. She felt at the kiss, the vampires bite blight. She breathed out a fog, one with the void now. She called on the darkness, enveloped in shroud. She brought forth a curtain, enveloped and certain. She summoned the darkness, a ritual to birth then. It brought forth some iron, some bood, and some bone. It brought forth flesh marrow, it brought forth a home. A little canoe, made of hide and flesh rising. She lit a pale lantern, and guided it down delightly. The little pale raft did soar down the river side now. She crossed through the brook, she crossed it in crowd.

She gave way the boat, gave it to a scamp. She burried herself in deep garb, a snow emperor's damp. She waltzed through the market, and out through the gate. She went on her way, out into the hate. Winter had come, it was time for her to perform. A ritual of the damned. A hermit's galore. But first tot he mountains, she surely had to travel. Underfoot she walked through mud, never flat footed, never cowarded. She clutched at her scarf, and summoned the fox. She sent him forward silently, enveloped in the locks. It brought forth a shroud, enveloped in smoke. It blighted and darkened and barely yet choked. She summoned a leech now, and swung it all about. She lit it on fire and threw it towards a sprout.

The cursed plant in her way opened up an spat fire. To Maido however, it was nothing but funeral pyre. She called upon darkness and called upon shrouds. A purple glyph came forward and the fire plant drake went out. A dragon's roar in the distance? Now that was quite odd. She secured her foothold and her fox did trod. A flanking fox maneuver of scouting and hunting. She focused her blood glow eyes and enveloped the cunning. Way of the tracker, the smacker, the collector, the reactor. The support specialist assassin did envelop the rapture. She called upon blood magic and tore through the ditches. She fucked some the witches and burned through the wretches. The night was her calling an unfamiliar assassin. A summoner, not a hunter, but not for the lack of passion. She jumped from a tree, and brought down with is her hash then, burried a werewolf, her hands round her sash then. She choked him to death, used the leech as a weapon. "If I need a weapon, I'll take it. Remember this, my first Lesson." She spoke now, entering the mountains, now blessed. She put them to sleep, the werewolf she'd dropped. She did not kill them, just left sleeping for now. She looked at her map. Esperia had given the clue then. Not much further now, she would find winter to sleuth in. She changed out her garb, into all white in cloth. In fur, is metal, in blade, in scoff. A black obsidian tiara, of leech and of bone. Of stone and of iron and marrow and cone. A dark frost ember gauntlet emblazoned in her vision. She wondered for a moment could she handle such visage. She pondered aloud, yet walked in the snow shroud. Uphill now, in the mountains, she had found herself proud. She had traveled through forest, through river, through stone. She had traveled through blood and through mud and through bone. Through vampire and werewolf and prison and hell. She had traveled through seasons and eons and knell. A murderous crow brought death passage and dusk rising. A curtain blade keeper brought a knife in to blight it. She laughed about loudly and burried the questions. She felt no dark calling, no good either, just blessings. Malevolent no? Benevolent? Woe? No. She was neither? She was both? Were you a believe her? Was she beneath ya? Her words were like posion, a rhyme and annoyance. A scarlet red kiss, a snowy night's bliss. She summoned the howlers, the ambient cowlers. A howling owl fowl to the inn keeper spoke. The fox did come back, turned to ash, and dis sprout. It turned into liquid and dispersed into cloud. She waltzed through the snow, bought a room, and left again. Her voyage was beginning, a good tarrot card had set her then. She knew what she should do, having now left her prison. An eternal shrine of damnation, she needed to meditate on this vision. Why was she here? This world was most certainly foreign to her now. She knew not of gun or berserker for woe. She listened to tales of vampires and the liches. She'd heard crazy stories. She'd missed most the visage. But now she was back, and she was on track. She toiled and boiled and found out the rack. She conquered the blizzard, found her way towards the top. She knew now that she had to envelop the lots. A hermit tarrot pull? How wonderful, she did thought. She'd sit on it and mediate and meditate and plot. She'd work on designs, figure out the mechanics. A new type of magic? Perhaps, she was feeling quite manic. She wanted to work, she wanted to lurk. She wanted to apply science and she wanted to choke. Her pursuers were spread thin and she cared for it not. Truth be told, she could have just buried the lot.