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by NonAnalogue

NonAnalogue Guzma’s battle pose kills me every time I see it, so I had to draw it.


Cazrin leaned against the brick wall behind her and cupped her hand around her cigarette as she lit it. Dark alleyways weren’t unusual for her, but the person she was waiting on this time was - the private investigator Ashwyn Vincent had a much bigger name than most people who traded with Cazrin for information.

“Ah, you’d be Cazrin, then.”

Speak of Tzarth and she will appear, Cazrin thought. She tilted her head slightly towards the mouth of the alley, watching the human walk towards her. Vincent was smaller than Cazrin expected, having only seen pictures of her in old newspapers. “Yep,” Cazrin said, flicking some of the ash from her cigarette. “I hear there’s some things you need to know.”

Vincent eyed Cazrin up and down. If she was surprised that Cazrin was a siren, or that Cazrin seemed to be missing the siren’s normal scorpion tail, she didn’t show it. “I’m looking for Serena Alia Varanza. Parents say she went missing a week ago. I understand you might have a lead.”

“The Varanza kid, huh?” Cazrin smiled - or at least, she showed her teeth. “Yeah, I think I can help you out. What ya got for me?”

“Nothing much.” Vincent rummaged in a pocket and pulled out a grimy map, littered with arrows and notes. “Just the last known location and movements of Nadcza, of the Czamael sirens.”

Cazrin’s eyes widened and the color drained from her face. After all these years, she could finally track Nadcza down.