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• Aeryn LeBlanc, The Angel •
The nights in this town were the worst. Howlings and chills and mysterious shades would bring tears to the eyes of children and strike fear into the hearts of widowed mothers. This place was a wonderful haven, a safe place during the day, but at night…
It was often that one would hear rumors of a young woman walking around the town at night, as if she was a guardian angel, protecting the town and its citizens from the gangs and the bandits and the evils that plagued the city.
Yes, this legend had a name, and she was simply no myth. She was a real person.
Meet Aeryn LeBlanc, the “Girl with the Angel’s Wings”, as she walked along the pathways of the broken city, her hair -- the shade of the blood of the evil she spilt -- fluttered in her face. With a puff of frustrated air, she blew her bangs out of her face. Orange eyes scanned the town as she shivered.
Yes, because skimpy, unnecessary clothing was perfect for fighting in the middle of the night. But hey, it usually got men to go away without bloodshed, and people just disregarded her the majority of the time. As she wrapped a thick, grey cloak around her yellow dress-and-detachable-sleeves coordination thingy that she had going on, she tugged on her small hat, smiling all the while.
Aeryn had waved to a kind lady who she saw rocking on her porch from time to time, turning the corner past the residential area into the business area. The marketplace was closed down, sans the lights of the inns and pubs that stayed open late and closed early in the mornings. Smiling softly to those she passed -- mainly young couples, snuck out past curfew and older men, coming home from working the night shift -- Aeryn continued her self-issued patrol. After all, if she didn’t protect the town, who did?
There was a scream of delight as she passed a house where children were running circles around each other in the windows as she passed by.
There were giggles of romance as she passed by the alleyways where couples kissed in secret, hidden by the protective shadows.
“The tears I cry for you that day are like the tears I cry today,” a song from inside one of the taverns played -- a group of travelling musicians roamed the countryside (Aeryn recognized their music), were inside.
Everything was going to be calm tonight.
Or so she thought.
With a growl, the grey cape was thrown off, the redhead’s katana, rightfully dubbed the “Angelblade” now out of its sheath, and bolting down the alleyways (she looked like nothing but a flash of yellow) looking for the voice that needed saving.