She breathes in the crisp morning air and stretches her arms to the sides. She's holding a sharp wooden stake in her right hand - not just a piece of wood with a pointy end, but a proper stake, with a leather handle, sharpened to a dangerously fine tip. She tosses it up and catches it in a practiced motion, readying her muscles for the potential coming fight while she waits for the sun to rise a little bit higher.
It's not a very bright day, most of the sunlight filtered through the fluffy tapestry of cloud cover, and the autumn breeze sends anticipatory shivers down her spine. It shouldn't be a hard fight. More of a scuffle, really. This vampire has been flying under the radar for a while, slipping through their scrying nets and going barely noticed. Not looking for trouble, probably. Maybe they even have a sense of self-preservation, rare as that is.
But a vampire's a vampire.
(Kinda. Terms and conditions apply.)
She looks over the vampire's hideout once more, father than normal human eyesight should be able to see through the thin fog, courtesy of a reasonably expensive charm.
