Mar me mot

The prey is strange, but is it any stranger than the rest of her situation? Iscariot doesn't know what to think. Was this all a string of coincidences, propped up on a bad case of worms? There's something about it, something she doesn't like. It's enough to make her head ache with the possibilities. Taking more and more time away from the Syndicate, not like they'd notice, Iscariot does what she can to get to the bottom of things.

Weaving her way through the Mines, she's curious. It would be ridiculous to think she's alone down here, but exactly who else lurked within? That's going to take some doing, to sort out. Hackles up as she searches, moving deeper. Feeling the darkness take hold around her shoulders, and melting into it. The creature is pale, but the shadows that stretch around her are forgiving.

Rummaging sounds draw her attention. Sure, there's plenty of junk down here, but who was paying it mind today? Eyes adjusting to the darkness around her, Iscariot is sharp as she gets the man to come into focus. Nose wrinkling as she nears, she doesn't bother hiding. "Guess it's a fine place for a treasure hunter." Her tone is lilting, if a bit haughty. Carefully observing him in the low light, gaze glimmering. Every bit of her is tense, hackles lifting along her shoulders and spine. Not that it does much to make her look larger-- not at Riot's size. "You find anything good, or just the dirt?" Narrowed eyes, coming as close as she dares.

"Iscariot"