ONLY KNOW YOU LOVE HER [open; kill/capture] WHEN YOU LET HER GO

Darkmask was cast from the forlorn shadow of her homeland's silver balcony, a beautiful, viridescent tragedy despised by the living root of ancient pine, shedding its whispering leaves into mournful song. She searched above and beyond DarkClan's narrow passage, before turning away from the academy's silver chained doorway and entering into the mysterious wastelands of RiverClan territory. 'Tis a miserable truth, for she was now sworn to a mission that brought death's saint to the gate of some poor river dwelling soul. Perhaps she was the white baroness that took to angel's blackened wing, or a winter breeze that hummed to hell's lashing tongue and bore lion's hooked fang. For a moment she wielded dusk's bony hand, as she became a mere flaw against the dying auburn light, still embedding its mingled rosy gold shades in the canopy's emerald green lining. She now stood on the verge of RiverClan's hidden abyss and forsaken marsh, laying in wait on the high arc of a beech tree branch for one of their swine to come whisking along its forgotten road. Today, the black maine coon would proclaim DarkClan's victory over RiverClan's bone and mange, her pale blue stare shattering the frost that lay in sheets over the rotting landscape. Her next victim would be arriving momentarily.

[ Hi Liakat, I probably won't be replying until tomorrow. Permission for kill, or capture? c;]

The winged phantom brought forth her raven's feather, a lace veil forever bound to the spoils of leper's skin and drear, her pinion then unfurling to reveal night's halo, looming before her elfin head. The bird's icy chain seemed to tempt the lustful eyes of other monsters that dare surface from the bog's miry depths, their shadow then turning to amber tinted gold dust with the sun's dying blaze. The female's body chose the swaying motion of tangled root and vine, which hung in sparse clumps from the twisted bramble thorn. Her beady sapphire visionaries were slowly allured to the feeble shapes of two peasant walkers shifting restlessly below, after she had traded her old flesh for a spineless species that lived to intoxicate itself with scarlet drink, and had tasted the atmosphere's gaseous acid. Between crooked beak and crimson stained teeth she carried a white dagger, a weapon of mass destruction that yielded a terrible demise for both warriors. Preparing to embark, she sounded a cry that gave voice to a legion of fiery warriors, fleeing the cover of the treetops and setting sail on wounded feather and sea's salty breeze, aiming her sword for the bloodless skin beneath Silverpelt's jawline. As she circled above the heads of her unsuspecting quarry, she hoped to succeed in smiting the RiverClan scumbag, ridding its body of impurity, and putting it to use so that she might capture the weakly apprentice that drew nearer to her target range. Even if the blade's deadly tip didn't kill her, the femme would still be prone to injury if the airborne predator were to get close enough.

[ I'll submit the thread to Lancelot, see you in DarkClan mwuahahahaha! ;) ]