Plug- In Baby <3

The dame was seemingly a ball of spitfire and energy. Cyanide's audits could careen backwards to rest against her skull. She was not usually one to engage in conversation. She was polite and respectful but the whole concept of friendship was lost to the assassin. Mismatched oculars would gleam in the sunlight, agreeing to the womans proposal silently. Her plan needed no words from her save for quiet acceptance.

They approached the herd swiftly and the assassin would suddenly lose all semblance of emotion. Body crouched and poised shoulder blades would press against the sheath of her muscles, muscles perfectly defined and poised for combat would ripple beneath her fur. Her lips curled back over her ivory canines in a silent snarl. Her mismatched gaze would remain locked on their target. The kill, the act of the hunt, this was what she lived for.

She slunk to the opposing side of the herd. Her eyes blazing, her muscles wire tense, quivering in anticipation. Her claws flexed, tearing through the dirt. Her body lowered and poised, just waiting to spring. She watched as the opposing dame ripped free from her hiding spot and Cyanide was a mere half a second behind.

Her body would fling to an all out spring, toes barely scraping the forest before they were lifted once again. Her eyes had narrowed in, focused solely on her target and like clockwork, the ebony dame grasped the deer and Cyanide sprung, teeth coiling around its trachea and crunching through the thin rings of cartilage, tearing the vital pipe from the creatures neck. A fatal wound. The animal gave a last gurgled scream, blood bubbling up and through the gaping hole in its throat as it stumbled and fell, flailing uselessly before falling still. "Shall we take it back to Valhalla for the others to enjoy?" her words were detached and soft, an inquiry and nothing more.

Unbeknowst to the other female, the assassin would savor the coppery tang of blood that lingered about her tongue. To kill was her birth rate, it was the sole reason she had been created... and while the dame did not enjoy the act of killing most days, in the times when blood lingered upon her tongue, there is nothing she would rather do.