M
ila was many things, but a useless, defenseless babe was not one of them. She was desert-borne, a poisonous viper, her lethalness as quiet and soft as she was dangerous. Where her sister was sharp silver daggers and jewels, Mila was a sunburst, a shining star made of flames. So when she had heard the whisperings from the younger Crowlings and their excited whims, had listened intently to her comrade's boust of spar, a wicked smile had curled the edges of her lips. She would not leave his invitation unanswered.Her hooves were near-silent on the soft earth, as she melted from shadow to shadow like ghost. She watched with emerald-gemstone eyes through the bleak grey of autumn, across the flat expanse of the Steppe, to where a winged young man stood. His body moved with surefire hits against an invisible target, and for a half a thought, Mila wondered whom he was imagining. A smirk played at her lips as she relished in the cold sunlight, her delicately curved ears flickering as she managed to catch the Crow's words.
You think you're so big and tough, Maxence. Coming into my lands and threatening my First Crow?
An amused grin played at her lips; a brutal gleam flickering in her eyes. Ahh.. Maxie. The Sun King. She nearly felt a chuckle rumble in her throat, but instead, she furrowed a brow. Mila commended her brother Crow's loyalty and fierceness, something that burned in her with equal strength. She knew the feeling all too well; the fury of rage that caught in her lungs and the anger that broiled her blood at the thought of his name, his face, and that wretched kingdom that threatened what she held most dear. Her home, her court, and her King of thieves.. the man that saved her, her sister, and gave her something worth more than gold.
A family.
"Pity you aren't fighting him, but maybe then you won't be expecting me," she bemused, her voice soft as a whisper against skin as she stepped out of the shadows, revealing herself. The young woman of red and gold could not be certain that he could see her, his focus on his imaginary opponent. So she moved quickly, her muscles bunching underneath her skin as she pushed off of the earth with her back legs. Mila was quiet, preferring to murder her enemies with bottled death instead of brute force, but her small stature was an advantage she had learned to use well.. and oh, she intended to use it well now.
Delicate hooves pounded against the cold soil of the plateau, her eyes narrowed on her target. She rushed on him, keeping her breathing as quiet as she could; in through her nose and out of her mouth, deliberate, like she was trained. As she drew near, leaning on the element of surprise, Mila came up to Raglan on his left side and angled, her shoulder aimed for the delicate spot of his flank behind his wing. You asked for it, I answered, Rags.
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