[@BlackPanther]
Anya stared, shocked at the fact that the knives had met their targets and yet, no blood sprayed from his throat or came from his stomach. She was further shocked by the unnatural resistance his skin produced against her knives, as well as the sizzling that came after.

He simply casually removed the knives, which both pissed her off and made her slightly curious. He didn't move moreso he oozed liquid. Just what the hell was he? She stepped back a bit to re-gain her footing, staring up at him.

And then he walked over and patted her on the head like a dog getting praised for good effort at doing something. She growled lowly, she didn't need nor want his pity, it was't [i]her[/i] fault that his skin was squishy.

"Just what the hell are you.." she spoke lowly, she circled him, much like a predator would circle its prey. "And why didn't you bleed.." It didn't make sense, by all rights he should be on the ground grasping one of his wounds and bleeding profusely.

"And yes..yes they do..iron and silver actually, the perfect combination to stab the supernatural, wouldn't you agree?" She said with a smile.

In all her years of killing, it simply didn't add up how he lived, and it pissed her off just as much as him patting or poking her. If she couldn't kill someone, she was practically useless to her family.

She suddenly lunged at him from behind, both knives poised to stab him in the shoulder blades. If the direct approach wouldn't work, she'd weaken and dis-able him until it was possible to kill him.