- upon either hip.
A chuckle came from deep within the chest of the Half-Demoness; a migraine assaulted her brain, blackened blood threatening to ooze from her nose. Perhaps it was an illusion, or perhaps sheer willpower prevented such a display.
Whispers grew in frequency, volume & urgency - the Grimoire boasted a fanatical obsession for detailing the energies it sensed around itself. Lost in a series of observations, notes, comments & corrections to previous statements, the Half-Demoness forced its will into the -
- to the bar & the many pioes of shattered glass behind it; faintly, panicked voices echoed outside as citizens reacted to the destruction her Aura caused previously.
"..At least you're a gentleman," Dahlia quipped, glancing to Faust with a sinister smirk as hands planted -