Kapri pushed herself up onto her feet, her trench coat heavy with ash and snow while the wind bit at her cheeks. Her fingers flexed as she brushed against the sigil near the back of her neck. The hilt of her sword hummed with eagerness beneath her palm. It whispered promises of carnage, seductive and insistent as it coaxed to unsheathe it. A grin spread across her face, unbidden. It almost always scared her how she thrived in moments like these--raw, brutal, unpredictable. Sometimes she almost enjoyed being thrown into these situations she hated her demon lords for..