In for the Kill

JP with Winteroak and White_Caribou

Malacost looked up and down the street she walked making sure they were alone. He had prepared for such a time as best as he could. He kissed the symbol on his pendant, feeling the cold jet stone on his lip, a gift from The Purger himself after his first successful mission for the Inquisition. Held fast against his chest with a leather strip, the 'Fist of Mourning', a small amulet in the shape of a closed hand, with the thumb inserted between the index and middle fingers. Used as a sign against danger, bad omens, bad luck and of course evil. And although its power is nothing compared to 'The Tears' it had always offered him some sort of protection against magik due to his faith. He pulled his sword out and quicken his step.

Shalia had taken in her fill of stargazing. She took in a deep breath of the cold air before slowly beginning to walk again. Maybe the quiet was peaceful in that moment, but as she remembered where she was and why she was there, the silence grew to be eerie. Coaxing her toward diving deep into her own thoughts and drowning in them, too. She would have to be careful about that if she wanted to keep herself together this night. A meltdown would not be pleasant...or perhaps that's exactly what she needed.

The witch rounded a corner when the alley took a turn, putting more distance between the basilica and herself.

She seemed to be wandering aimlessly, driving deeper and deeper into the city, leaving the most crowded places behind. He licked his lips, he wasn't sure what kind of power she could wield and he wasn't an Arbiter afterall. He had killed witches and warlocks before but this woman carried herself in ways that he had never seen back I Helians. As if she wasn't a freak of nature. An affront to the gods. And that could only mean power.

Turning a corner just a few steps behind her Malacost raised his sword and spoke the words loud enough for her to listen.
"Suffer not a witch to live..." And he rushed forward swinging his sword.