Thread: To the Last-Moon/ForeverMischievous

It was an average ordinary day, or rather it was for most people. For most people it was a Monday afternoon where they headed to work and took their children to school. For most people it was an average day, full or ordinary boring things. For one woman though, this day was anything but ordinary. As a matter of fact, she herself was not ordinary. Her name was Llewellyn. Or at least, that was what her contracts all read. In truth, her name was Arveia . That was what she had been named upon banishment. She didn't remember her Birth name, it had been erased from her memory after being framed and declared a traitor by her people. Arveia meant exactly that. Betrayal. False. Lying... traitor. That was a good thousand years ago though, and in that time most of her kind had been slain, destroyed by the greedy fearful nature of a Cult who wished her and all of her kind dead. They had very nearly succeeded, there where maybe five of her kin left. But because she was named Arveia, they had naught to do with her. Even after it became clear she was not a traitor at all, her people was a stubborn people after all. Her people where Dragons. The Elder Dragons who had once ruled the lands of mortal men and kept peace. She held human form better than any of those who came before her, and any who had come behind. Most Dragons could not take on a fully human appearance, most Dragons gave themselves away with horns or scales in places that they forgot. She did not. She had no tail, or wings or scales unless she desired them to be there. The only sign that she was not entirely human was her ethereal beauty, and her mismatched eyes. Which was indicative of well over a hundred different types of shape shifting creatures. Including Fey, Elves and vampires. She was the safest of her kind, and intended to continue living even when the last of her kind was dead and gone. She had no pity for them, for they had caused their own downfall through arrogance. They had not believed a bunch of ' silly humans ' could do exactly what they had done. Killed them all. She made a living now, in this more modern Era using skills that few had. She was a murderer, a killer. An assassin. She killed anything that she was paid to from anyone who could be counted on for money. Her newest target was a woman, a woman who was supposed to be dead. The last of her people. Had Arveia had any sympathy or empathy left in her body, she might have refused. As it was, she had both in plenty, just not for people she had no care for. She had few people she actually cared for, strangers mattered nothing to her. No matter if they where the last of their kind or not. Arveia had lived a long and painful life and she was not prone to forgiveness or Pity. So when she got the call to kill a woman called Haley Gyldenhart she took the job, uncaring that this Gyldenhart was the very last of her kind and her people. It was a plight that followed many after all. So Arveia settled into position with her re-curve bow and her Poison Tipped arrows and got ready to fire. It would only take the one shot. Wouldn't matter if it his a vital or not. The Poison would ensure she died in a matter of minutes. Arveia paused though, a faint scent lingering on her tongue now as the wind changed... compatible. The Gyldenhart woman was compatible!