[i]Footsteps would be heard behind Sarah, the person they belonged to having only just... appeared. When she did, she did so in a style similar to a Guardian when they phased out of their ships, and the Ghosts(?) would sense... Light within her. She was a Guardian, no doubt, but something felt... off. Every instinct screamed that the newcomer was only bad news. Perhaps it was the fact that she wasn't dressed at all as a Guardian, instead left in black military boots with a pair of dirty beige jeans over them, half covered by a gunmetal grey, cloth trench coat that was left open and to flutter in the mild breeze. She wore a an equally grey sweater benath the coat, the soft cloth hugging her obviously womanly frame... decently. On her head, she a grey, Barbuta-style helmet, the golden visor shimmering in the light. It wasn't made out of standard steel, but rather... something different. Some sci-fi metal, no doubt. Her right hand - shrouded by a black, fingerless glove - held the grip of a golden Hand Cannon, lazily twirling the gun around. It would be recognised as Fatebringer, from the Vault of Glass. Paired with the firearm was a Glock Knife, held within a black Glock-polyester sheath on her left hip.[/i] "I dunno who the fuсk ya are..." [i]She stopped walking, her voice rough and... rather unladylike -- or rather, it sounded like that of a woman who spent the majority of her life smoking. It was still undeniably feminine, but with a coarse edge and a strange accent.[/i] "...but y're a Guardian. Which type, though? That purple shit, fire, or lightnin'? B'cause I've the first two... Anyhow, y'wanna make 't quick 'n painless or are ya gonna make 't fun?"