"Y-yes." She stammered.<span style="font-style: italic">Was it out of the feeling of nausea in her belly? Or was it- No, without doubt it was about the events past which caused her much stress.</span>Isana did as she was told, quickly dismembering the body and packing up. She lifted the bag back onto her shoulder, the blood spilling from the basin inside and sloshing inside. She made her way past the two, skirting way out of arms reach and returning back to the Store. Twice more did she retch on the way back. As she got up from her knees at the convenience store, her vision already becoming blur sparingly, a figure stood before her, seemingly exiting from the store.<br/><br/>It was her sister.<span style="font-style: italic">No, no, no. No. No. No.</span>Isana felt her mask being gripped and ripped off, the cool night air washing over her skin. Her sister seemed to be asking if she was alright. Muted voices. She held out her bag, Isana's bag. She said something else, no, asked something. Her eyes grew concerned as she pressed her hand onto Isana's forehead as though checking for a fever. Bright flashes then, darkness.<br/><br/>******<br/><br/>It is cold this night. The Artisan pulled the poncho tighter around herself. She sensed fighting, bloodlust and much more. She crouched on the roof's edge, the tip of her wing pressing into the ground and propelling her to the next rooftop. She landed easily, moving quickly and silently, muted deep breaths coming from underneath the metallic mask. She spotted them, and dropped down several floors to the ground level where they were.<br/><br/>The spikes once again cushioned her fall. She said nothing but only readied herself in preparation from an attack from either of the two. She chuckled, a raw sound emitting from her throat, like someone attempting to dispel phlegm from their throat.