The Bird Watcher (Silhouette) Jun 17, 2014 15:18:11 GMT -6
Post by Deleted on Jun 17, 2014 15:18:11 GMT -6
|There were way too many close calls here. Confined space, low visibility, full of obstacles and dangers—it made it nigh impossible that she'd be spotted or chased, but she could get her wing just as broken on a sudden snag as in a fight. She could just press on, every turn led her closer to the droning, but at this rate... she was bound to be worn out once she got through, if not actually injured. If it came down to a fight she'd be somewhat depleted.|
Think. There's always four ways past something. Around it, over it, under it, or through it. Can't go under, around takes too long, over's where the changelings are... and this is already the way through. Unless...
The trouble with Canterlot was that it was full of ponies. You had to always be conscious of that fact as a Night Guard; you stick to the shadow, don't interfere with them, don't scare anyone, and definitely don't damage municipal property. But there weren't any ponies here. Property damage meant little to nothing.
When the opportunity presented itself, Silhouette focused once again on her armor until a beam of purple-white light shone out. It was weak in the fog and darkness—perhaps a little weaker than an actual light would be. But, hopefully, it would give her the visibility she needed...
...as she smashed in the nearest windowpane with her metal shoe. She shone the light inside and picked up a decently-sized, somewhat curved sliver of glass. It was dark, greasy, and sharp; she couldn't see her reflection anywhere but on the very edge. It'll have to do, she thought; Can't do this with my bare hooves. As a cautionary measure, she first took it to her tail, cutting off a sizable chunk of her hair and wrapping it around the base. Even if she had shoes on, she didn't want to risk cutting herself on her own tool, jerry-rigged as it was.
That taken care of, Silhouette took off again, quicker to make up time—only, when possible, she then tried to hack through the smaller cords rather than constantly duck and weave them. It didn't help her with the high-gauge wires or the electrical arcs, of course, but glass wasn't a conductor, and it at least cut down on some of the effort.
And yet something nagged at her, tugging at her senses like a mental tinnitus. It wasn't something she heard, though... more like something she didn't.
...Why was that skull so quiet?