Fingers ran gently through her thick, auburn hair. There were no traces of the bloody battle that had taken place approximately a week ago – no visible ones anyway, except for the clean injuries and blows she had received. The girl investigated the limited numbers of cuts and bruises that her opponents had managed to inflict on her body, unable to determine whether or not she hoped they would scar. The shopping mall in Halifax was a mess – the raids had been many and the raiders greedy. The mirror was still intact though, and the woman looked at her own reflection for the first time in months. In the past she had been obsessed with her appearance more than anything, but after Samael happened she had been unable to look at herself. Her hands and fingers had continued to make her look presentable, knowing what to do after so long time fixing her hair several times every damn day. Ruby eyes were curious as she let a finger lightly trail two cuts running over her muzzle and under her left eye. They were thin, red streaks, so petite that she doubted they would leave any mark at all. She let that gaze travel down her own, partly clothed form, inhaling in light wonder as she saw how much her body had changed the last half year. Her curves were still present, made smooth by her thick, coppery fur. The hand that was not busy tracing her light injuries pressed against various part of her own body, feeling the hard muscles under skin and fur.
It brought some sense of joy to her, suddenly realizing that she had changed. It was not only physical, but her psyche was still too damaged for her to dare to change her focus. She reached for the mirror, letting her palms settle against the cool object and let her forehead do the same, closing her eyes as she merely breathed. The young hybrid wished her troubles could be soothed by something, but right now her life just seemed so depressingly empty. She had killed a woman that had been there for her despite not knowing her. She often thought of Mew Sadira, the woman that had gotten one of Halo’s limited bullets in her head. Right now, away from Inferni and alone with her reflection, she allowed the scene to replay, taking in those feelings that she had stored away to deal with when the time was right. She had wished to love war and death, but when it came to play the reaper she turned into a mechanic thing, it seemed. She had yet to find much joy in the killing, though the lives on her conscience were few. Her white, green eyed sister had not deserved death. She had embraced the hybrid woman and accepted her instantly despite their differences. The unshed tears were enchanting her ruby eyes as she opened them and inhaled deeply, not about to allow her body to tremble.
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