OoC: Sorry this took so long, my interwebs were robbed from me for a while, there. Although I admit, that may not have changed much.
BiC:
The rain drenched the soft earth around her feet and rustled the leaves and needles of the trees all around her. Somehow, she evaded the worst its night-cold lash. Half blind, she leapt from root to stone and then to root, swung from branch of tree and slid around fallen trunk. Her jacket trailed behind her in the night like a short cape, its silver titivations flashing under the moonlight, announcing her passing to the beasts and birds who called the wood home. She didn’t know where her foot would land next, yet found she did not need to – her intuition led the way. Where it was leading, it kept her dry, and that was her only wish.
A low hanging branch surged at her from the haze of the night and the rain and the wind. Closing her eyes in surprise, she ducked low, reached for the limb and snapped her body sharply around the left. She could feel the cushions in her shoes readjust themselves, their ankles tighten around her own, awaiting an impact of some kind. She opened her eyes, and found herself sailing through the air, beneath the boughs of the great and ancient canopy trees. Her soles met with solid argument beneath her, the body of a fallen woodland behemoth, and she began to slide toward its top – the side ironically at the bottom of the hill she descended. Sole softened and hardened, helping her feet to glide over the knothole and age-softened wood. At the swelling in her chest, she bounded free of its limb.
And landed through the door of a gray stone building. It had swung open in a blast of motion and she slid across the white stone floor inside. The bottoms of her shoes slipped fast at first, then adjusted as she slowed to a halt just thirteen feet inside the doorway. Kylie looked down at her feet, then back through the doorway she had come through. “Nice shoes,” she commented, brushing stray water from her brow and onto the floor. She looked up.
A tungsten-tipped dart was in her hand before she knew it, but the confident smile hadn’t left her face. No hint of shock or surprise. “Ugly monster,” she remarked. It wasn’t an insult, more like a declaration of her own observation. Like an idle topic for a genial game of poker.