Cleaning their weapon was a very awkward experience the first time. A whip was well, a whip. A weapon made to inflict pain and not kill all too easily. Tied rope that eventually have way to metal and such. Runics in the smallest of sizes ran down one particular strand of the rope, a shining dark green that reminded Luna of trees in deep woods, the parts that didn't get traveled and you only saw when you were your most lost. A green of the forest in it's most natural state. She liked the color, even if her weapon snarled at her, clearly displeased with her the majority of the time.
The blood had quieted them, sated perhaps was a better word for it, but Luna had been told that a bloody weapon wouldn't do. Besides, killing a beast made of FEAR was not the same as a real animal, she had nothing to morally worry her little vegan head about.
The causality in which her senior hunters spoke of killing things that she considered alive and with such a detachment should have tipped her off for what would come later on. But Luna had always been a hopeful sort, optimistic. Surely, they'd not kill humans or real animals right? Just those of FEAR, just that which haunted humans and hunted them right? Never a true living being.


Two months later and the blood was human blood, and her weapon did not snarl at her anymore. It was like a coiled beast at her feet, unwilling or perhaps too lazy to antagonize her as the rest of her team threw bodies into a pit of flames. The smoke stinging her eyes and the small already having forced her to empty the contents of her stomach on the earth.
She didn't know what got to her worse. The dead, the smells, or the fact her captain insisted on going to a nearby human city for dinner- to a BBQ place. Mentally she'd checked out. She wasn't hungry and the blood was getting woven into the rope of her weapon, staining it a dark red brown- ugly against that deep green she'd come to adore despite the beast in her head it represented.

That night everyone ate meat and the smokehouse BBQ they went to via portal was making her stomach back flip over itself. How could they eat after killing other people? After burning the corpses. They had been human, hunters who'd fled the cause but surely, they could have been spared. For what reason could they, in all their technology, not have a way to ensure a life without risk of exposure? Were they really so barbaric? The sight of her captain snapping a rib in half while laughing over how they smashed a face in answered Luna's question.

A year of fighting, of surviving, and she was trainee no longer. A hunter proper. Her weapon snarled and screamed still, but she knew them, they knew her. Resentment would not help them. Fighting with each other over morals would not keep them, both of them, alive. Her mission with the team was simple. Capture two humans who'd stone hunter tech. Red blood had long since stained the once pristine white a deep green whip. It was a aged dark red brown now- fitting for her tasks, her duty. Yet as they found the men, the children who'd stolen the tech, Luna let go. She'd never tasted meat in her entire time as a hunter, never wanted, never hungered for death like others in her squad.

Her whip went red as the children ran into the night.
Mission failure. A cocky captain and a single horseman.

Luna had become death, and she'd learned it well.