<div class="floatleft">(https://i.imgur.com/746DLPB.png)</div><br/><br/><br/><br/><hr/><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 7pt;">        <strong>NAME:</strong></span><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 8pt;"> Catwoman</span><br/><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 7pt;">        <strong>LOCATION:</strong></span><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 8pt;"> Warehouse in the Gotham Industrial District</span><br/><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 7pt;">        <strong>DATE/TIME:</strong></span><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 8pt;"> 10/26/17 | 3:00 AM</span><br/><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 7pt;">        <strong>TAGGING:</strong></span><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 8pt;"> Closed</span><br/><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 7pt;">        <strong>CONTENT:</strong></span><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 8pt;"> Violence, Gore</span><br/><hr/><br/><br/><br/><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 8pt;"><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: verdana;">Saccharine Ophelia doesn't let the scream betray the sultry hush resounding. It instantly blooms a Glasgow grin and throaty guffaw in response from him, nearly sickening to hear let alone see. Carefully she treads within the shroud of shadows, keeping quiet paces that encircle him like an apex predator with its comfortable prey. Eyne watch him, inquisitive emeralds taking in subtle shifts: the twitch of a curling lip; scorched flesh practically plasticine upon ashen bone; unmarred pallor handsome when it had been whole but it, too, is reduced to something else, something hallow and cruel.  Once again he seeks to pass the sentence and condemn, forsaken harbinger eager to call death his own. Nostrils flare, the chilly air rancid with rot, with decay, and petals tug upward as she smiles through it. <br/><br/><span class="bbc_u">Guilty.</span> <br/><em>GUILTY! </em><br/><br/>Bitterness fills her ribcage, turning the flora to withered remains. Her smile drops promptly, cherub innocence flushed by the ruddy hue dusting the apples of her cheeks even then. Lilting voice drops an octave, honeyed syllables ghosting through the parting of her maw. <strong>"Mm~ that was beautiful but I think you enjoy your rhetoric a little too much. I'm flattered though," </strong>she muses, continuously walking until she halts at the other end of his gun in the darkness. Selina lowers toward the ground, readying. Fear creeps up her iron spine; a primal instinct telling her to run, run far away. It's human nature but how long can she keep running? <br/><br/><strong>"You and me? Does daddy need to express some rage? Heh."</strong> Cruelty accompanies a childish giggle, it bubbles then bursts.  They were conditioned to smile with bloodied gums, their teeth stained as they snarl and snatch at dangling morsels, at the bones they were thrown from slaughter. It's an old war, one of survival and she's been at it for a long time. Claws slither from their sheaths, razor-sharp steel that could paint his right side to match his left. <br/><br/><strong>"Ah...No. Yeahhhh, no... You should run back to whoever is pulling your strings and tell 'em I prefer the wine and dine method."</strong><br/><br/>The brute was larger, and yet, she streamlines pain and defiant aggression into brimming focus, primed to move at the slightest threat. After all, a cornered animal has nothing to lose. <br/>  </span></span>