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A stream of obscenities were uttered as she followed after him, infinitely grateful that she didn't wear shorts. Finding that one language didn't have sufficient profanity to properly address the situation, she switched to a more foul-sounding language once the first was exasperated. She hated when they ran- not that she expected anything less when she was sent as an agent of death, mind you. Runs through underbrush, even with protective fitted pants, just were not a favorite pastime. At least he was making a nice trail for her to follow in the wake of, although she was certain it was not intentional.

It was relatively more pleasant to be chasing than be chased.

The reason for her long stream of offensive words was had nothing to do with gnarled, protruding roots or outstretched tree limbs. It wasn't a result of the slight cramp in her right leg, the small pebble in her left boot, or the fact that she was sweating profusely causing both her pitch-colored hair and dark red shirt to cling to her like a needy lover. She had just, mid-pursuit, noticed the hue of his wings. If she had not been forced to stare at his backside for a length of time she would have easily dismissed such a large, obvious part of his person so that this would have been a tidy job with no questions or complications.

She really hated when they ran. It always ******** up the game plan. Kane had been assured that her target was a demon, and as one quite familiar with most dark things, she realized that gray was not a typical. In fact, she would venture to guess that she was on the heels of something a little more ambiguous than she would have liked. Large, black, and leathery would have been acceptable and garnered no real concern or inquisition. Black and feathery she could live with. Gray. Wonderful.

As she reached the clearing she followed his suit, although her wings were quite different from his. Proportionally smaller than his own and diametrically opposed in design, they were dark as night and shaped like a bat's. Feathers seemed to be protruding, though, from the edges of the appendage, tufts on the various corners as if some sort of monstrous stylist had decided to decorate. One could be reassured, though, that a mercenary would have no need to be aesthetically pleasing on the job. As her wings spread and propelled her forward, she drew a knife from her belt and threw it at one of the offending gray limbs.

Stop damn you, stop.

What an annoying p***k.

She was used to taking shots, usually they were aimed at her person with enough precision she wasn't insulted when she ended up with an injury. To have this cowardly supposed demon tossing them at her with no real aim or skill would have made her laugh had he not gotten a lucky hit. The cramping right foot decided to arbitrarily seize up on the exactly wrong step (or right, depending on which side of the fence one was on) and she ended up taking one almost exactly between the right breast and hip. Making a size-able rip in her relatively new blouse and sinking deep into her flesh. At least the blood and fabric were of a like color, Kane reasoned, so that there would not be a stain to go with the tear.

The wound did have one vocal reaction: she was now swearing in tongues. It was never a good sign when an inherently evil tongue wasn't obscene enough.

Most mercenaries were level-headed, calm, and calculating. One would assume the most successful in a field would be a master of emotional control and repression. Kane, however, had always been an exception. Possessing a somewhat volatile temper, she was prone to doing things to an excess without the foresight to see possible repercussions: just like now. Slipping back in an infernal tongue, she cast a spell that cut across the clearing and made a cone-shaped advance towards the gray-feathered creature. Sparks flew from her hands and inferno erupted, unchecked by any control that one might presume she would have, as it raged forward in fore-mentioned shape. Oh sure, there would be some wanton destruction to an otherwise pleasant place for animals to live, but she had a job to do and she sure as hell wasn't losing a body part to this jerk she had decided not to kill immediately.

Next time she was sent on a mission, she was asking the wing color beforehand.

It was the opening she had been hoping for. With his eyes covered defensively he was unable to completely anticipate her attack. While there was a veritable wall of flame between the two of them (and she was hardly immune to it), the smoke added another another concealing layer to hide in. Pulling out her rather plain sword, she quickly weaved through the trees and around the edges of burning shrubs to get to the 'demon.' If she didn't catch him now she knew that her chances were piss poor if the chase continued: with an aching leg and a dagger hanging out of her chest she'd be a (literally) bloody mess in a couple hours if not less.

Kane circled around until she was on his side and with a running jump that sapped almost the entirety of the reserves of her physical strength, she jumped on him. Using her left elbow as a battering ram, she intended to knock him sideways on the ground and land standing over him, the fire to their side, and put her unassuming sword to his throat. This proposed attack had many contingencies, of course, including (and not limited to) him staying in the same position, not eluding the fore-mentioned elbow, not catching his balance before he fell, or being quick to roll away should she make it that far.

In any case, she had no intentions of actually hurting him. There were far too many questions that needed to be answered to satisfy her conscience, damned as it may be at this moment. A simple sign of submission and willingness to not flee any farther would satisfy the mercenary if she could hold herself together that long. Gray wings. It had to be an omen. She could feel her heartbeat throbbing within her chest and sticky trains of red liquid dripping down her waist. Slitting his throat or otherwise rendering him dead would have been the easier choice, one that might allow a clean escape and recovery, but this was a day destined to be full of difficulty.

Just concede already so I can pull out this dagger at the very least.

"If you have no intention of being sincere, I'd rather you said nothing at all," Kane replied. She was surprised he hadn't commented on the lack of fatal blow. It was clear in her tone of voice, posture, facial expressions, actions, and every other mundane part of her person that she was highly agitated. One would expect she would want to end this quickly because of her temperment, mood, or desire to finish a job quickly. Did he think nothing of her pause? Perhaps the jaded individual thought her just as much a demon as she had been informed he was, a twisted sadist who intended to torture him as a means of entertainment.

Keeping the sword level and at his jugular, the woman bent her knees and slowly lowered herself so that the hand not grasping her weapon could touch his feathers. Another strange action that would undoubtedly raise questions in his mind in a few moments. She ran her fingers over the soft gray, using tactile sensations to confirm it wasn't an illusion. Groaning audibly she stood quickly, muttering before she cleared her throat.

"You aren't a demon, are you?" It was less a question than a statement. Nothing she could find in him confirmed that he was one at all. In addition to visible cues, there was an intangible feeling about his person that screamed to her she was making a mistake. Perhaps it was an overactive conscience, perhaps it was instinct, or perhaps it was madness. Unable to resolve to herself in any fashion she could come out of this feeling justified and validated in her actions, she took the sword, twitched it, and plunged it in the ground next to his head. No answer he could give would have soothed her into acceptance of this assassination anymore. A demon would deny their heritage just like anything else. She didn't need the money; it was best to let the ambiguous cases go.

Well, at least if he jumps up and stabs me again it won't be a horribly demoralizing lucky shot... and I'll be able to rest in peace for this decision. Hurry up and go Gray Wings, I feel my knees about to buckle.

Kane made no move to attack or stop him; she was willing to accept consequences to her actions. His fleeing was expected, but the movement back to her was not. She had stumbled back a step instinctively, orbs of deep chestnut regarding him warily. If he had meant to kill her outright or otherwise injure, the demon descendant imagined that it would have been done quickly and in response to the dropped sword. The approach had seemed a mindful afterthought, one that was carefully considered and with no malevolent expression on his face. With this in mind, she let him close the gap with no real resistance.

The swift retrieval of the dagger, though, had caused expletives to pour out of her mouth more swiftly than blood from the wound. Despite the cacophony of language dripping from her lips, Kane did not take an aggressive action. Thoughts of things she could do certainly traversed her mind during the moments before the heal, she wasn't physically able to act on them even had she been willing. As the knife left a void in her chest it quickly filled with blood and the subsequent pressure proved to be an undesirable combination. Feeling light-headed from the removal of the blade, her knees buckled in response and her body fell completely limp.

Gray wings were certainly bad luck. She couldn't be certain of what he was doing, but she lacked the presence of mind at the moment to protest like would be typical. Mind swimming somewhere between reality and dreams of times long past, she struggled to push herself into the present. Kane was aware of all that was going on, but narrowly shutting out the urge to let her body repair itself more effectively in a deep slumber.

"It would be pointless to tell you the name of the middle man and the contractor himself... I am not privy to that information. He knew I hated demons and wouldn't worry too much about the job's particulars." She wasn't particularly concerned about the nature of his questions, instead focusing most of her attention on trying to regulate her heartbeat and breathing enough that the blackness edging in her vision would dissipate. Since he had not yet dropped her and wasn't complaining about it either, she let herself hang like a rag doll. Standing on her own was a completely different endeavor and if she spread herself too thin she'd be precisely what neither of them wanted.

The wings that divided his chest from her back shivered slightly of their own accord. Small bits of tough hide slipped off exposed parts of the wings, small in number and size but visible. Appearing to have the composition and likeness of shed snake skin, the dark skin revealed pitch-colored feathers underneath. The assumption Gabriel had made before was wrong: her wings were transitioning from those likened to a demon to those of a dark-limbed angel... even before his eyes. It was hard to tell the cause of this transition at this juncture in time: was it healing magic or another trigger? Surely Kane knew, but she wasn't volunteering personal information right yet.

"I would think you would know all the people after your life," she added. Eyes closed, not at all indicative of sleep. Teeth clenched briefly, knowing that she was about to further startle the man trying to assist her by taking down a spell that she loathed taking down with every inch of her being. It was simply too taxing to leave it intact and now was no time for vanity.

"Hnnn..." she grunted rather unattractively. Eyes rolled to the back of her head under covered eyelids as her mind fluttered to the spell. It took but a moment for her to dismiss the illusion and upon doing so, irises rolled back forward and lashes parted. The color of freshly bloomed lilacs replaced the dark earthy tone that had been there before; almost the same shade as his own. The irony was not lost on her. Eyes were not the only thing that had previously been concealed under a more suiting coloration- lockets of ebony were replaced with a platinum blonde in an instant. Kane loathed her natural appearance with such a vehemence that it took the threat of becoming helpless in front of a stranger for her to reveal it out of necessity.

"I don't think there was a mere insinuation, there. I am not one for subtleties. If you are unaware of who is after you then you may be in more dire straights than I imagined. You, of course, have a few options." Kane's chatter wasn't merely to distract from the transformation she had gone over, but it was certainly a consideration in keeping the conversation alive. He had clearly gone out of his way to mend her wound and there was hardly any harm in giving advice to this... creature? who was green behind the ears on how these matters worked.

As she spoke care was given to exhale and inhale in steadied, timed breaths. Her heartrate had slowed to a much more normal pace and the remnants of blackness had receeded quickly. Feet steadied themselves on the ground, weight shifting so that she could test her balance. Besides the rock that was still moving around in her left boot (and would undoubtedly cause a blister or callous of some sort if it hadn't already). Not wanting to startle the man more than necessary, she patiently waited for him to withdraw his grasp so she could move to get her sword and restore it to her belt.

"You can either hide and hope they lose interest, fight, fake death, or hire someone to take care of the fighting for you," she elaborated slowly. "I do despise being misled, so I wouldn't be adverse to assisting you provided you can make yourself helpful." In truth it would be convenient and she was looking out for her own personal interests as much as his; none of her abilities helped her mend herself quite so fast or effectively and she wasn't at all adept at putting out the troublesome fires she ignited. Regardless of his acceptance of what she deemed a mutually beneficial arragement, pride and a vindictive nature already dictated a need to seek out a method of retribution. She did, after all, have an image and name to protect. "Kane the easily fooled" was not a title she was comfortable with having. Reckless was acceptable, but gullible was not.