<i>Strange.</i>Loretta’s eyes followed the thickness in the air to the silhouette of two buildings in the distance. There was a thick stream of magic that points her otherworldly senses in that direction and while she wanted to investigate, she wasn’t sure she wanted the company. If she had to guess, whoever had emitted the magic was a warlock and she especially did not like warlocks. Witches, who usually worshipped demons, were much more her speed than warlocks who sought to enslave them... or at least, that’s what she’d experienced.<br/><br/>“<b>Easy solider, it’s gone,</b>” she told him, her eyes bearing into the blood already beginning to dilute with the rain’s blessings. It was a good thing that the body had been removed, too, because now the sword wielder wouldn’t have the chance to examine the savage slices she had ripped into its leathery flesh, and the way she had twisted her dagger in its stomach out of spite. Her attack on it meant little to her because it provided no sustenance; it was merely an act of aggression, very violent aggression.<br/><br/>Crossing her arms, she looked back to the man with the sword. He seemed young to her; she wasn’t sure why. Perhaps it was his soul, tried with reality but still bright and uninhibited. Her lips curved into a smile, but before it could turn too devious, she softened her expression and asked, “<b>Thank you though, I mean it. You should probably return to your friend, he might be confused when he regains consciousness and something tells me he will react violently.”</b>