Mock The Killing Bird: Dawn Of Ires

Fanged Wing ♡ Part 2: Chapter 2

Dazed. Rianne felt, mist clearing from the walls of her mind as the curtains of her eyes slowly lifted, revealing a face she would never forget

Along with it, a fanged smile.

"Ah, you're awake!"

"What?" Rianne muttered, a throbbing pain pounding against her head as the being helped her to her feet.

"My, you are quite the specimen. Maybe even special," It said with a curious smile, "Are you alright?"

Barely able to unscramble the vision of the world before here, Rianne held her head, shaking furiously in an attempt to clear the haze of her mind.

Surprisingly, it seemed to be working. As her mind quaked, memory hit her like a tidal wave, the recollection of the being standing before her like a monsune.

And then, she frowned.

"You!" She reached for Mockingbird's neck, flailing the extension like a wild snake caught in her grip.

"Argh, calm down," he pleaded through chokes, though Rianne did not listen, her focus was ending hsi life as quick as possible, completely forgetting that said life attempting to be taken was that of a being which knocked her out with a wink. One would reconsider, though one is not Rianne.

Blinded by rage, she felt the emotion boiling within her bowls, ready to explode like a volcano. Her killing intent like hot lava.

Though.

Moments into the struggle, Rianne's strength dwindled meaninglessly as the being held its lifeforce from her clawing hands, eyes wide as they contested.

She could not go on. Her arms shaky, her palms damp and her hands aching, the anchors of fatigue weighted down her rage-fueled verve. As this happened, the being fought back, it's sapphire jewels turnt a bloody shade of red, like pools of crimson as it pierced into Rianne's soul.

What had she gotten herself into? Fear grasped her being, enveloping her in it's fires. Blaze like regret as her life flashed before her eyes, memories doing little to cool the flame of her impending death.

Finally, she could hold on no longer. Bested, Rianne's hands hanged around the neck of the being langorously, red streaks running along it's neck as it shoved the Donna aside with a glare.

Her heart threatened to burst out her chest.

"You're gonna regret..." It stopped, clenching it's fists, knuckles white as it tempered itself with cursed mumbles.

Was it holding back? Rianne wondered. Though, having little time to ponder, she felt her demise was standing before her.

"Never do that again," It said through gritted teeth, "It seems you have a bit of a fighting spirit. I didn't expect Nightingale to commission agents such as yourself, Lady Rianne."

Nightingale? The mention of the name is odd in this situation, considering Nightingale wasn't the creature attempting to take her life at that moment, though it caused her to pause for a second, wondering why the being had brought up his name.

The being towered above Rianne as she fell to the tiled floor, half expecting a reply from the Donna as it stared at Rianne with a quizzal look and with now uncanny blue eyes, a much different expression compared to Rianne. The Donna was still paralyzed by fear, like a mouse caught in a trap, she could hardly piece together words, much less give a viable reply.

The look on her face did provoke the being's laughter however, which caused Rianne to snap out of her petrified state with a educated frown. She wasn't used to people laughing at her and those who did, often met thier end shortly after. The being snickering before her, would be no exception.

"Gods damn you," she cursed, picking herself up, "who the hell do you think you are to touch me!?"

A fanged smile answered her as the being continued it's fit of laughter.

"By the Ires," it said between chuckles, "The look on your face puts a jester to shame."

At this point, Rianne previous stew of rage had began to bubble once again, though she resisted the urge to lunge at the being, held back for the most part, by her dreed of falling into her deathly sleep once again. Actually, it was more so the thought of what the being might do to her whilst in her rather, pregnanble state. If it hasn't done it already.

"What the hell is it you want from me," she quizzed, "what, even are you!?"

Immediately, the beings fit of laughter halted as it exchanged it's grin for a nonchalant expression, looking somewhat confused with it's twisted lips and raised brow.

"I mean, you did call me, didn't you?" It smiled, " you said you don't bite in the first date. If I had known you meant you would try to wack me instead, I would've put a leash on you earlier." It hummed to itself a slimy tune, inspecting Rianne's figure once more.

It was then it struck Rianne. This was indeed the Ire she had called out upon her arrival at the balcony. What locked her attention, however, was why this was the Ire Nightingale had ordered her to meet. For one, it lacked the integrity you would expect from a shadowy, all-powerful, assassin. But then again, one would be less the wiser of, if the assassin themselve retained a complete incognito of a sort.

Such as being a haughty spook who found amusement in the terror of others, either way, Rianne had no love for the Ire before her, still, she would have to establish at the least a decent relation with it, for it was to be her Ire associate from this day forward as Nightingale had informed her days prior.

A large part of the Donna's infamousy was her 'alleged' alignment with the agendas of the Wings Of Ire, although not far from the truth, it is still nowhere closer to lie, as Rianne does indeed affiliate with the assassins of the The Orginaization on more than sporadic occasions, though, it isn't because she wishes to become a member herself, much less an Ire, rather, it is the petty and undirected desire Rianne so craves.

A craving that is satiated by being the topic of gossip amongst her noble peerage.

Returning her attention to the Ire, Rianne forced a airy expression. " Ah, I see. So you are the one Nightingale sent. If not for my just upbringing, I would've faired you a lowlife rather than an famed Ire."

"You wound me, my Donna. Besides, what just upbringing wardens a lady such as yourself to strike a lowlife with killing intent, hmm?" The Ire snickered mockingly.

Rianne swallowed a groan, "We digress, now tell me, Winged Spawn, shall we make away or not, I tire of you and the hour hurries to dawn."

The Ire, chuckling to itself, danced around Rianne, bowing at the end of it's cheerful jive.

She began to doubt whether it was an Ire at all, concealment of character aside, what type of killer acts this way?

"Pace yourself, my Donna. Formal greetings are in place before we depart, and anyway, don't you want to say goodbye to dear old ma and da before we do?" It mocked, once more.

Rianne hadn't intended to, in fact, the arrangement of the soiree before was a mask to her true intentions for the eve, for she had planned to travel to Paradis tonight, unbenouced to her parents, or even her personal guard, as she had no wish for search parties to come to her 'aid' if she were to arrive home late, though, if she does not make haste to Paradis before dawnslight, her father will become the wiser.

"I suppose putting a name to a face wouldn't hurt, though I am sure my name has graced your ears before, Ire." She smiled knowingly.

"Heavens, quite as many times as I have heard others call you a braggart, but hey, rumors, rumors."

"You test my patience, Ire."

"Please, I may be an Ire, but that comes with perks too, like a very special and esteemed name known throughout The Wings Of Ire, mine is one no Ire hasn't heard of before, of course. I am, the one, and the only."

"Mockingbird."