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The full moon, directly above in the sky, softly glowing and lighting the ground below. Simora used this light to help see her way through the dark forest. It was almost midnight, so she'd have to hurry and complete the assignment given to her. Her boss, Zion, Leader of the Assassins, had called upon her for this specific mission. It required stealth, speed, and accuracy. All of which Simora trained herself upon. Zion called this mission the luna dei cacciatori. Which is a saying he had seen used in the human world, it was Italian for Hunter's Moon. He thought this was perfect for the mission, since it was under the full moon.
Simora despises the full moon, almost as much as she despises the new moon. During the full moon, all sacred angels are forced to summon out their wings. Sometimes it hurts, sometimes it's nothing more than like an itch, but for Simora it's completely different. Simora has mostly dark demon blood in her, very little sacred angel. When the full moon is in it's full height above the earth, her angel blood reacts violently toward her dark demon blood. And since her sacred angel blood is way out numbered, this causes her great pain. It takes all of her energy to stay conscious while her crippled angel wings are forced out of her back, for if she were to pass out, she may not ever wake up again.
Simora moved swiftly through the forest, closing in on her target, using the shadows to cloak her presence. She saw a light in the distance, and smelled smoke and the scent of slightly cooked meat. Then she came upon him in a small clearing, he was cooking a small rabbit over a fire. His dark blue hair seemed black in the night, and his silver eyes glowed slightly from the flames reflected in them.
Simora silently unsheathed the dagger she had brought with her, it was designed especially to slit the throats of enemies. The delicate curve of the blade was a few inches longer than the length of her hand and the hilt fit perfectly in her palm. Slowly, she moved till she was in the perfect position behind him, then slowly began to creep forward.
She was hard trained to be quieter than quiet. Every step she took was so delicate that it seems as if the grass below her feet willingly bent for her. The man in front of her showed no suspicion that he was being stalked as he reached for another log to throw onto the fire. Simora was less than two feet from him now, as she started to position her dagger for the kill. Then he suddenly tensed, and she froze. She wondered how he sensed something was amiss. Then she realized that the wind had started up again, and he was downwind from her.
He wasnt a demon, but a sacred angel, so he didn't have the acute nose of a dark demon. But sometimes an angel could train themselves to remember the scent of a dark demon until it came naturally. Simora hoped he wasn't one of those angels. She was wrong.
In less than a second the angel jumped to his feet and turned to face her. Simora reacted quickly and attacked, aiming for the throat. He also reacted quickly and ducked beneath the swinging blade that would have taken off his head. Then he quickly aimed a punch for her stomach to knock the breath out of her as well as off her feet. But she was also too quick for him. She jumped over him and kicked him hard in the back, sending him sprawling to he ground a few feet away. He quickly got back up and faced her, looking straight into her blood red eyes. Each of them waiting for the others next move. Then he broke the silence by asking,
"Who are you? And why are you attacking me?"
"I'm an assassin of Zion, and I'm sure you know why I'm here." she replied and attacked again swiftly.
She feigned to the left, catching him off guard, and attacked to the right. She aimed for his leg to try and cripple him to make him easier to kill. He tried to get out of the way, but wasn't fast enough and she hit home. Her dagger made a huge gash on his right thigh, right above the knee. He cursed loudly and almost fell, but quickly shifted his weight onto his left leg. Then he turned to try and counterattack, but she had already moved to a safe distance. Unable to move and empty handed, he figured his only chance was to use magic, but first he'd have to distract her so she wouldn't know what he was doing.
"So, remind me assassin. What exactly did I do to recieve this visit from you?" he asked cockily to piss her off.
"Don't bullshit me Keitaro! You know exactly what you did!" Simora replied angrily.
"Like I said, remind me."
"Remember Miara? The youngest of the Yumura sisters? You and your three friends snuck into her bedroom at night and kidnapped her. I saw it all on a video taped by Zion's cameras." Simora started.
Keitaro, seeing she was getting distracted by her anger on reliving the event he took part in, started to use a spell. His already silver eyes glowing completely silver.
"Go on." he urged.
"You took her out into the forest where you brutally rapped and killed her! Then once you guys had your fun you took her back to her bed, where in the morning her sisters would find her lifeless and covered in blood. With the help of their friends, they raised enough money to get you on the assassin list, knowing you were the one who lead the act. So now I'm here directly on Zion's orders, to avenge their sister! Goodbye Keitaro!" Simora yelled and raced toward him with the immense intent to kill.
Only it was too late when she saw his eyes and knew what he was about to do, and she could not defend herself.
"Yes, goodbye!" Keitaro agreed and unleashed his spell.
He chose fire as his weapon, using a spell they called Firecracker. He raised up both his hands and hundreds of tiny balls of flame shot out of each toward the oncoming Simora. They crackled and hissed just like an actual firecracker, hence it's name. Simora yelled with pain as they came into contact with her skin, each tiny orb burning away more and more skin. Soon, she was lost in the thick black smoke, the scent of burning flesh heavy in the air.
Keitaro laughed as he watched, his eyes alight with victory. But soon, that light went out and his laughter stopped, when he felt the sharp edge of a cold blade against the skin of his throat. Simora stood behind him, unscathed.
"H-how?!" he asked, shocked.
"It's called a clone." she replied simply, and with one smooth motion, slit his throat wide open.
Keitaro fell to the ground bleeding, Simora stood over him watching. When his spell disappeared, she knew he was finally dead. After looking up at the full moon almost at it's full height, she turned and left for somewhere secluded to endure the pain that was to come.
 Simora Yumoto · Sun Apr 29, 2007 @ 07:54pm · 5 Comments |
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