A Moving Blade.

Poppy sighed as she shut the door to the Nemesis cabin. Ever since she arrived at camp yesterday, besides finding her cabin, she had been totally lost. She had to have help finding her own cabin which was a strange feeling to her because in London, no one offered, nor gave her any help. It was understandable when she was still known as the Rosely's adopted child. When she first arrived there it had been such a sappy story in the news. Did no one have anything better to do then sit around waiting to see what fake charity stories ended up in the news? Her aunt and uncle wouldn't have even taken her in if they weren't forced to.

Poppy grew up with them since she could remember. They told her her parents left her at their doorstep, and we're later spotted here and there in all of the hottest clubs in America. She didn't want to believe it, and she thought, deep down, that one day they'd come back for her, but they never did. From that point on she was used as a doll. Whenever the Rosely's needed to take her out to a party so they could show off to all their rich "friends" that they had a kid and they didn't, they'd feed her and bathe her and put her in the nicest cloths they could squeeze her into. The rst of the time she was shoved in the attic without food or water for days.

The only light of day she was used to seeing was out of a .5 centimeter hole in a corner of one of the walls. She got to see glimpses of the poor people stealing food from local markets, and then getting caught, as well as part of the rich part of town with people walking down the street in six inch heels just to prove they could afford them. It was horrid. When Poppy was finally able to ascape, she hid in the downtown part of London where all the homeless kids lived behind trash cans and such. She eventually convinced her best friend Cody, who was also the son of a rich couple, to come and live with her downtown.

For a while everything seemed okay, but then Cody told her all this junk about half-bloods, gods, and him being a satyr. After a lot of convincing, he was able to persuade her to let him take her to Camp Half-Blood. They hardly met any monsters on their journey, until the third to last night. They were in a big field of wheat, not sure how they ended up there, but somehow they did and were surrounded by a giant scorpion. Poppy knew how to throw knives then, but not near as good as she can now. That was the night Cody died. Poppy somehow managed to make her way to camp without any more encounters and a broken heart.

She pulled a black sweater over her head and quietly tip-toed down the steps without shoes on. Quickly sliding her hand up her neck to make sure she still had the necklace on was her first action before straying too far from the cabin. It was about two in the morning and the absolute perfect time for Poppy to get a feel for camp. She had no idea where anything was because frankly, her tour guide yesterday was just a big air-head as far as she was concerned. He had been no use to her except showing her to the cabin, other then that, she could care less about him and his life. Dropping her hand back down to her side, she slowing crept down the isle of cabins.

After she made it to the end of the rows, she looked around for where to go next. She suspected a few people would still be up and about, but she was fairly sure no one would care to see what a little girl like herself was doing. Upon coming to the door of a large building, she gingerly took the door handle and pulled. Surprisingly enough, it opened. She had expected this camp to be more heavily gaurded, considering all the different types of kids that lived there. Some were bound to be shy, quiet, responsible, and kind, but that also meant there were an even larger number who were going to be mean, sneaky, rude and evil trouble-makers, like herself.

Upon entering what looked to be a practice room of some sort, she noticed another girl in there. Probably three or four years older, stabbing some dummies with knives. Now that was a person Poppy would consider getting to know. A few feet behind the girl there were some targets, most likely used for archery practice. She slid her hand up to the skull charm on her neck. Should she? She wasn't even sure how to make it transform back into a knife once she was done using it. No. That was a job for another day when she was alone. Poppy took a knife out of the pocket of her sweater and gripped the blade. She threw towards the target and, with a loud thunck, landed in the center.

Clove had woken early that morning, finding the armory and arena were packed with way too many people as the dayy progressed. Clove didn't like big crouds, she prefered to be one on one with people. Well, she could handle a few more but not too many. With a sigh she checked the few knives she had managed to find so far. Septimus had taken them, claiming to keep them safe. Yeah right. The only person Clove trusted with her knives was Clove. She longed to have some friends but she simply couldn't call Septimus a friend. He was different in a slightly creepy stalker way. Clove didn't really know how to handle that.

Her mind was thinking about two things lately and neither of them was very positive. Well, her problems could be summed up in two words. Boy and Trouble. She thought of Andrew, the son of Apollo and their crazy and impossible might be love.. thing. On the other side of her brain was Septimus, dark, dangerous and creepy. She shouldn't be thinking of Andrew since the only reason she liked him in any way had been caused by Aphrodite. They had been on the verge of a battle to the death when she'd interrupted, oh, she and Septimus. Now, at that moment in time Clove had thought Septimus could by an ally of sorts but she'd freaked out when he threw a knife at her head. She'd turned right around and had tried to run. That had been the first time he'd stopped her.

The time after that he'd met her in the forest during one of her darkest hours, memory hour. He had told her a thing or two and Clove had tried to run again. She'd been close, already on the edge of the forest when he'd taken her down with Chloroform, the thought still made her blood boil. As if that hadn't been bad enough, he'd taken her knives from her, leaving her with only two he hadn't been able to find. She'd managed to get her knives back, although it hadn't gone as perfectly as she'd wanted. He was complicated.

Clove had never had any type of trouble with boys before, not that she'd been around others than Meatcleaver and Johnnyboy at all, but still, they had treated her just the same as the others. Apart from Meatcleaver, sometimes. Clove had never searched anything behind it and she didn't intend on starting now. She had enough trouble with boys for a lifetime and he was a boy too. She sighed deeply as she opened the doors to arena. A smile apeared on her face. How fancy and useless at the same time. Training wasn't supposed to be hacking at a couple of pieces of straw in clothes. Yet it was tradition to train in the mornings, never mind classes, she didn't follow them. She pulled her two favoured combat daggers and stepped up to the dummy.

"Hello." Clove said to Meatcleaver and he swung his sword toward her head, Clove ducked and jumped to avoid his low kicks to bring her down. She herself kicked him in the chest and he took a step back with a savage smile. Clove had returned the smile and they had started their fight again. Johnnyboy was more of a trap person. He could hide traps nearly anywhere and so he did. Getting out before he got to you was the real challenge. Glamour used her bow or a wicked axe for the melee combat. Meatcleaver and Clove had been so absorbed in their little battle that they didn't notice Glamour coming in. A sudden thunk behind them on the targets made them look up with apologetic grins on their faces.

Clove looked back, the grin not there but for a moment she thought she saw Glamour. She realised she'd seen the past smile of her old friend mixed with the image of a young girl. Clove looked back to see it wasn't an arrow but a knife. The girl must have thrown it. Clove didn't say anything, going into a routine that was as ancient as time to her. She retrieved the dagger and brought it to the thrower. She twirled it in her hands as she went, testing the balance as she went. When she was back with near the girl who'd thrown it she smiled coldly. "Never kill a friend on the first meeting." She said and handed the knife back to the girl.

She looked the girl up and down, although not in the way a predator would sniff out a prey. She was looking as somebody who is trying to find out if the other is worth her attention. "So, what is your name?" She asked, neither kind nor mean. A wicked smile appeared on the face of the other girl. The youngling had proved to have no fear of her older campers, and not of Clove, although she might not have heard the stories about the crazy girl with the knives yet. You know, the one who almost killed her mother when she was eleven. How people had heard about her past so fast still surprised her a little, although she suspect Chiron had failed to hide the newspapers he'd found after she'd came in.

"Did you have anybody to practise on?" She asked as show shook her own knife. If she wasn't completely mistaking, this girl was almost like a soul sister. She loved knives and seemed pretty wicked, although Clove could be mistaking, which turned the girl into a target. She did hope the girl was a friend to share victims with. If that was the case, she could even fit in with Meatcleaver and the others. If she wanted out, she'd have a home.

Poppy knew most people wouldn't take to kindly to having a knife thrown at their head, she had learned that when she first started taking people's knives. It wasn't hard, you just had to spot a knife in someone's pocket and then figure out how to distract them and take it. She liked to go with a classic when she got her first three, she simply walked up behind the person without a sound. It helped not to where shoes on the cobblestone streets of London, that helped her creep up without anyone noticing they were being followed. All she had to do was grab the knife out of their back pocket, and run. Frankly, she was much faster then some thirty year old man.

But anyway, most people would be scared, even startled when a twelve year old girl whisked a knife passed their head and it landed directly in the middle of the target. But apparently this girl wasn't. She seemed almost, disappointed, although Poppy couldn't have known why, she ended up being the surprised one. The girl walked over to the target and just pulled the knife right out and walked back over to Poppy like it was the most normal thing in the world. Gingerly putting out her hand, she slowly gripped the knife and pulled it close to her chest. Most people probably would've replied to a comment like that with a crude remark, but Poppy kept her mouth shut.

Inside she was thinking, Well, you're not my friend. But instead, she just let a smile appear on her face. Not a kind one, but a wicked one. She found it almost funny that this girl took her as nothing more then a little youngling playing with knives. Now that, if nothing else, was something to laugh about. She suddenly found herself clutching the knife tighter when the girl asked what her name was. That, above all, was the dreaded question. It was an inquiry about something so personal, yet so powerful. A name is what makes you yourself and she believed it wasn't not something to just throw out there whenever you felt like it. No, it was much more then that.

Poppy stood there, staring into the girl's eyes without a word. Sometimes they say you can read people through their eyes. That isn't always true though, all Poppy saw were little, brown eyes that belonged to the girl in front of her, she couldn't tell anything about the girl. Although, from the way she reacted to the knife and the tone of her voice, it was most expected that she thought she was tough. Poppy couldn't tell if she really was or not, but it was best not to assume something, as that could be a fatal mistake. Making assumptions on people is what proved to kill most humans Poppy came in contact with. They thought she was just a little, helpless girl, but they were dead wrong.

Poppy knew that anyone could be a potential threat, and it was better to be safe, rather then sorry. She lowered her knife and let her hand fall to her side once more. There had to be a logical question to get this girl thinking about Poppy, and that maybe she was more then just a little girl. Well, of course there was but maybe, in a situation like this, it was best to leave this girl to think she wasn't much of a threat. Then in the end, she could come back with a deadly strike. Of course, that would be the logical thing to do in any situation other then this. Poppy wasn't to keen on letting this girl know anything about her, but it would eventually come out.

She slowly opened her mouth and began to speak without any expression other then her accent. "What's your name?" It was hard to speak to a complete stranger that seemed to know how to also handle a knife. Poppy was used to intimidation, and that was her other weapon. Besides knife throwing, there was always a bit of intimidation when people say a little girl throw a knife down a street into an apple on a cart. That's what also helped her survive on the streets when it came to taking food from the other thrives. Poppy didn't like stealing right off the bat from the source, she preferred to stay unknown and steal the stolen items from the other kids.

She found her grip on the knife tightening again at the girl's next question. Most of the time Poppy didn't kill for fun, she just liked to scare people, but when she did need to practice, wouldn't live targets help even more? Of course, she had only ever used stationary targets in London. Fruit, walls, sometimes even spare shoes, but never a real, live person unless she absolutely needed to. Never anywhere that could kill, just hands, arms, legs, and her favorite, feet. It was hilarious watching the victim have one minute talking to her like a baby, then yelling at her to get out, and then the next, running all over the street screaming about a crazy little girl and a knife in his foot. "No," she said.

How strangely silent the girl was. Clove rolled her eyes at the silence but didn't comment. This girl obviously needed a break. Funny enough she tried to impress somebody where where did she keep her witty remarks? Those were the things that got you respected by those who were feared themselves. The girl just seemed edgy and nervous, a very bad thing as it made Clove want to play with her like she was a toy. She did manage to restrain herself, she could use an ally and this girl seemed to have a potential. Clove just smiled in the end. "If you don't give me your name, I'll give one to you." She said with a smile.

Glamour would have approved. Give the girl a shot and a new name. It was part of going through the motions. "I will call you..." Clove paused for a moment, thinking. "Velvet. You look a lot softer than you are." Clove said. She didn't know why but she wasn't really expecting the girl to respond positively. She'd probably ignore it or something. She herself ignored most the the tenseness in the younger girl. The clenching of the knives and all that. She herself had been just like that girl when she'd ran from home. It wasn't fair to judge her when the others had given her time to adjust.

"My name? You will not give me yours but you ask mine?" Clove said with a laugh. The girl had guts and Clove liked that. It would have made the other members in her pack laugh. The girl would probably have been welcome in with open arms and a lot of care. Although Clove didn´t doubt they´d keep their eyes and ears opened at all times. Things always seemed a lot tenser when new members were around, just because they could try to kill them. Yet on that point the girl seemed to know enough. She was silent and irrisponsive. Clove had pride and confidence, just a small lack of somebody to get her back. She didn't think Velvet had much of that.

"I guess you can choose. My pack calls me Daggerdeath but people around here know me as Clove." She provided. She noticed the girl tighten up again at her question about target practise. Seriously, did this girl think she was going about throwing knives into people? She hadn't even done that on the streets, although she and Glamour had hunted animals from time to time. All the pigeons you can eat, right on the streets to be picked up. The police didn't appreciate them snapping the necks of the little pests with people around though.

"I'm not going to kill anybody." Clove said with an eyeroll. "I'm only going to scare people by missing them. You throw to miss, knowing that half an inch more to the right would have landed that blade in their necks. It makes people think twice about attacking you and keeps a repuation in hold. I just wouldn't advice using it on Ares kids or cops." She said with a grim smile. She wasn't too fond of either one. Police with that self righteous thing they have and the Ares kids thinking they're so much just because their father happens to be the God of War. She had the same issues with Athena's kids thinking they are smarter for such a reason. She called it 'Parent Arrogance' and she hated it with every fiber of her being.

Clove sighed and looked at the girl. "Half the fun of that is running from the cops and such, knowing they can't catch you. Know every back alley and open door if you're not going to be moving around." She said, repeating the lessons Brawler had taught her. "And beware Septimus, he is fast." Clove accidently said. He was the only one who'd ever been able to catch her while she was running and that said something. Clove was very fast on her feet.

Poppy, soon enough, found her grip tightening on her necklace. Sometimes people just didn't understand how untrusting she could be. She was done trusting people because all they ever did was hurt you in the end, even if they don't always mean to. She learned that with when Cody died. He didn't mean to and was just trying to protect her, but in the end, broke her heart. Only leaving it to be replaced by the heart of stone. It wasn't physically made of stone, but it was more like an imaginary wall she put up to guard herself from the pain and hurt and sorrow of the real world. Her only means of protection seemed to be shaking with the company of this new girl.

At the girl's next remark, Poppy opened her mouth to speak while she paused, but soon shut it again at the sound of a new name, her name. Apparently this girl thought it funny to give her a nickname. That might be something that this girl found funny, but all Poppy could feel was pure hatred. She narrowed her eyes and, for the first time, showed the slightest bit of emotion. She suddenly dropped her hand to her hip and shifted her weight. At least this girl realized that she was some type of a threat. This girl didn't seem to be too intimidated by Poppy, which was understandable, she seemed pretty too herself, but still, this girl would still learn her lesson soon enough.

Poppy tightened the grip on her knife yet again when this girl laughed. Frankly, she didn't seem like the laughing type, especially at something as common and plain as a name. Of course, maybe this girl wasn't as frivolous as she thought. At least she questioned the tossing of names since Poppy refused to reveal hers. It was only the logical thing to do. Not just for a street kid, but for any smart person. Who would just walk around giving people their names. It wasn't just the gods' names that had power, normal people's names were pretty powerful as well. They were the ticket inside a person and to make them weak. That's why she refused to give it to strangers.

What was it with this girl and giving people nicknames? She supposed she would rather be known to this girl by a nickname and not her actual name if she started answering to Velvet, maybe she wouldn't pester her about her real name. Daggerdeath and Clove? Poppy wasn't sure where this girl came from, but wherever it was, it must be some pretty strange place to give someone a name like that, even if it was a nickname. The secret to names wasn't what connection they had to the beholder, but how private it was to the owner. Poppy knew they only people who knew her name were her idiotic aunt and uncle, her mother, father, who was dead, and Cody, who was also dead.

They were all dead. Everyone she ever cared about except for her mother whom she never knew, and her father. She never knew what really ever happened to them. Since she could remember, whenever she asked about her parents, her aunt and uncle told the same lie that they had left her to them and moved to America where they were still living to that day. She knew that much wasn't true because her mother had been living on Mount. Olympus, but what about her father? Was he still out there, worrying about her? Or was he really dead like she had always thought? All these questions swirled in her mind, making her head spin. The answers would never be reavealed.

Poppy smirked as Clove tried to explain to this "little girl" what throwing to miss was. She was almost tempted to laugh, but that was completely out of the question. Laughing would so emotion, and so far she had done a pretty good job at not showing any. She didn't want to break her record now, not when she was at the most vulnerable part of the conversation. She always came to a point like this whenever someone talked to her. The time when they thought she was just a little, helpless girl who, in this case, didn't even know what shooting to miss was and had never done it before which was most certainly not true.

Poppy loosened her grip on the knife yet again. This girl didn't see her as a threat yet, so there was no reason to be anxious at that moment, maybe she'd turn on her but even then, Poppy would be ready. Clove seemed to be taking a trip down memory lane as she babbled on and on about running down streets with cops on your tail. Poppy knew all about that and had grown up experiencing that. It was nothing new and she began to loose interest until she mentioned a new name. Septimus. She told Poppy to beware so he must have been a camper. She wouldn't have known since she'd only met Alex and Clove yet. She seemed to tense up at the mention of his name and Poppy suddenly wanted to know more. "Who?" she asked with a tilted head.

((You do realised near absolute silence is rather hard to repond to? Oh, never try to pummel an Ares kid... *nods*))

The girl was holding on to a necklace rather rightly and so Clove presumed it to be a weapon of sorts. Probably a magical gift from her godly parent. Why the girl refused to speak was a riddle to Clove, but not one she was extremely tempted to find an answer to. If the girl lost her tongue, that wasn't Clove's problem, after all, she hadn't cut it out. Yet she'd give being nice yet another try, one last try.

The girl didn't respond kindly to receiving a nickname, whatever. The girl clearly wasn't entirely stable in her mind, that was obvious to Clove. She had the entire rebel pose covered and had a glare that would have been impressive if Clove wasn't used to so much more. She herself had a pretty deadly glare and she guessed Velvet would be one of her closest friends or one of her worst enemies. She prefered fried as she already had half the camp as her enemy and barely ever found people she could be friends with in the first place.

"I don't know why you're so shifty about your name though." Clove said to Velvet. "But maybe I have no right to speak, half the world knows mine." She admitted with a shrug. Despite her various attempts to burn down all the papers and posters that had shown her name and face, the news wasn't that easy to destroy. It was a lot less now, the recognision. It had been about five years ago and people only seemed to remember when the say the newspaper picture. The girl looked about the age she'd been when she'd left home, maybe a little older. She would hardly remember the news of five years ago.

Clove knew most people didn't give nicknames but it was fairly normal to her. Most people on the streets she'd wondered around used them or got them without ever hearing it themselves. You were named after a thing that was obvious about you, like Curly for the dead boy with the extreme curls or Brawler for her habit of starting random fights. Clove had been named for her skills with the dagger but some names were just a joke, such as Johnnyboy. She found that her nickname told more about who she was than her actual name and thus, she usually didn't use it.

She looked at the girl again. How controlled and without emotions. How boring. Not that Clove was all that big on anything that wasn't cruelty but this girl took it to extremes. How did she ever expect to survive with that pokerface of hers. People would know she wasn't nice, they didn't know she was mean and most of all, they didn't know how to treat her. A knife in the back was always a better option than making everybody suspicious of you. "You know, I get the entire no emotions thing but you need to try showing some. People will never trust you if you don't give them something to work with. A knife in the back is far more easy when people don't expect you to give it. I myself never use that tactic but I know a few people who worked it like magic." Clove said. Clove didn't really trust anybody but she hoped she could help the girl, although that meant she'd have to watch her back even more.

She was shaken from protective thoughts when the girl spoke again, finally. She seemed interested in Septimus but Clove didn't like that for some reason. If somebody was going to kill him, it would be her. If anybody else dared to hurt him she'd just have to hurt them for it. "Septimus. I don't know his last name though. He managed to chase me down and that is a first. He knows the streets. Just be careful around him. He knocked me out with Chloroform when I tried to leave camp. Oh, he behaves like a stalker." Clove said anger burned in her eyes. Anger directed at Septimus for being so annoying. He was a creepy stalking freak and she certainly wasn't fond of that. How could anybody take her serious when she had a stalker? She looked at Velvet again. "I take it you haven't met him?" She asked the other girl.

Poppy looked to the floor as the girl spoke about her name yet again, couldn't she see she wasn't fond of the topic? Whenever most people asked for her name, she'd just stare at them until they asked her where her "mommy" was, and then she'd pick their pockets and run away. The basic manuver for surprise was innocence for her. In aunt and uncle's care, she was seen from the world as a sweet little rich princess who's just so lucky that she had "parents" as nice as these. At all the parties she went to, the adults always came up and asked for her name, but she didnt' give it to them, she just sat there, trying to keep good posture, looking at them with her gray eyes. Her gardians would come and step in, saying something about how shy she was and that her name was Poppy Rosely, even though it wasn't. She had never known her last name, but saying nothing at all was better then being known to the world as a Rosely.

Everyone in London that learned her name immeadiatly wanted something from her because they thought she was rich just because she was the Rosely's "daughter", but she wasn't. She lived in their attic and only felt rich when they had one of the maids bathe her, put her into actuall nice clothes instead of her over-grown t-shirt, and fed her. She hated her name and never told anyone out on the streets, for fear they might resent her if the made ussumptions of her past. She looked at Clove, her eyes hard, at the next comment. Half the world knew her name, that wasn't even normal. Poppy would just die if that was her. She obviously had a commpletley different life then Poppy, she seemed a lot more like an in your face person, where as Poppy was more of a right behind you, follow you more a few minutes, not pull a knife if you don't have to kind of girl.

She looked up at the girl and gripped her hands into fists, "Maybe I don't want them to trust me," she said through gritted teeth, "Trust kills," It was true, in more ways then one.

Trust is what she did to Cody, and he died. Trust is what made her agree to go live with her aunt and uncle, and trust is what brought her to the stupid camp she was living at right now. After all those horrific memories, she couldn't help but smile a little at Clove's next comment, about the backstabbing thing. Oh, she played the innocent card more often then most would think. She acted like a little girl who had lost her parents, then, when they least expected it, she picked their pockets. Some other times she'd steal from a food cart or any type of store, then, when the police showed up and the alarms were blaring, she just stood there and smiled. No one ever recognized her, that was, until one of the stupid cops remembered her picture from a Watch Out list and started chasing her. They didn't bother bringing their cars when she started running away on the coble stone streats, she was too fast for them on their feet anyway.

"Yeah," she whispered, "I know," The words felt strange on her tounge, she didn't think she had said so many words to someone in all her life, except for Cody, but that was before the accident and she became so untrusting. Her mind turned as she suddenly watched Clove become tense as she started talking about the boy named Septimus. Poppy titled her head and nodded, she would be careful around most demigods as part of her instinct, but chloroform? Poppy didn't know much about it except it was a dangerous drug that she wanted to stear clear of. She would keep an eye on him, even though she didn't know who he was or what he looked like. Poppy shook her head and gently bit her lip, "No,"

Clove looked at the young girl and her expression turned grave. She hadn't been in that situation often, where she found herself in need to say things that might be considered wise or thoughtful. She was Daggerdeath, the crazy girl who almost killed her mother at the age of eleven. The girl who assaulted random people on the streets and hung with the worst teenagers in the history of the world. She was one of the demons of the street, wandering around ready to rips the hearts out of peoples chest. A girl who had lost her soul and was a servant of darkness. That was what people expected her to be, a mindless killing machine, an offensive girl who was always out for the fight. Not a girl who might feel and have her own thoughts and emotions to deal with. Not the child who grew up without love and spend many of her nights crying. Yet Clove now looked at the young girl before her with an ancient sadness in her eyes.

"You are right, trust kills." She stated. "But the person who does the trusting is usually dead at the end of the day. Perhaps that will kill me before you, the fact I trust a very limited number of people. Yet they kept me alive, without them I would have died five years ago. So by all means, don't trust." She said and turned away from the little girl, picking a few knives up and throwing them toward the dummies in a high velocity. Velvet reminded her of Meatcleaver more than any other person in the world. Meatcleaver and she had two entirely different ways of acting around people but they both seemed to have trust issues and issues with their names.

Now that Clove thought about it for a moment, they even looked alike, although only a little. The expression of distrust was almost as identical as twins could get. Clove had enough of the conversations about trust and so she kept her mind on the knives she was throwing. "Well, Septimus is most easy to recognise by those eternal sunglasses of his. If he doesn't have them on his head, his eyes are very easy to pick out in a crowd." Clove said as she threw a knife into the eye socket of one of the target dummies. She twirled a knife around between her fingers as she smiled and softly hummed a tune. Preparing to throw, Clove started to sing very softly, and only just audible for those who tried to listen.

"One for the free man, walking the streets.
One for the locked man, who never eats.
One for the lady, dressed in white.
One for the silence, haunting the night.
One for the death, that never wins.
One for the journey, when it begins.
A knife in a sheet for those who sleep.
A knife in the heart for those who weep.
Those are the rules of my favorite game.
Once a killer, forever the fame."

Each line send two knifes flying and hitting the targets. The song was a lulleby that Meatcleaver had sung to her on a particularly gruesome night, the first time she'd ever seen somebody die. She had learned the song by heart the next day and it had become the song she sang whenever she was feeling a little uncomfortable. It helped her calm down and remember the rules, although nobody had ever bothered explaining where the song came from or what it actually meant. Clove didn't care much those, it was her song. She didn't pay much attention to the little girl anymore. Only when she turned around to grab another set of knives, the girl decided to talk to Velvet again. "Are you going to practise?" She asked, not particularly interested in the answer. As long as she could practise and keep herself sharp, Velvet could linger or leave. Clove needed to train for a bit, which was most important.

((Sorry for the shortness))