There was a reason that Magdalena Abendroth did not have roommates. Primarily because new individuals made her nervous in the initial greetings: hello's and commentary on typical weather made her fidget in subtle hints of habitual consuetudes. And secondary because of the perpetual darkness that sluiced across her pores in visible momentum, it often forced others to take cautionary greetings and to be in simple distances of her. Rumours circulated that her shadows [i]touched[/i] people, caressed them sometimes or spun around them in oddity circles as if to beget attention, and then attached themselves to other overcasts to create strange obscurities that were beyond the typical norm. Of course only a handful of individuals could testify to those fictions, associated students only saw the original shadow of herself that didn't change in density and remained as an inky pool of her heels. But there was a maintained dignity about her, refined within silence and further polished by her academic prowess. Considered studious and perhaps bookish in her apathetic veneer. Though all of those appellations were now tossed out the window, literally. But waking up alone in a varied haze was nothing new in the fall of routine, lashes peeled back over azure hues and her glances were glassed over with clear indication of the previous night. She didn't move just yet, laying upon her spine in the most uncomfortable position possible upon her dormitory floor; the thin carpeting of beige threads and her were well acquainted with Magdalena's penchant of fidgeting in her sleep, often from the victimizing of nightmarish hallucinations and entities that manifested in her waking world. The shadowy apparition now in front of her, blocking all sources of light, gaped a hellish maw and grinned like an infamous Cheshire at her before convulsing and spewing a obsidian tar that sunk and was absorbed by her skin — a demon coming home. Magdalena sighed carefully into the air, panting her slight frustration and fisting her delicate hands through her sallow tresses and counted out in German through her subconscious until all of her spirits were snug within and around her, no longer fixated to their will. Though she wasn't entirely sure if they actually lived, had thoughts and dreams and desires that reflected their mortal vessels, but it was an interesting enough thought as she slowly dis-tangled herself from a discarded heap of ebony cloth. Her wardrobe has been erratically discarded from the night before in vain attempt to procure a decent article that didn't broadcast her hellacious soul and turmoil, of course the search was for nothing as an ebony layered skirt and a slinky camisole of the same hue had been her only convivial attire. Of course now aforementioned outfit was wrinkled and smelled of booze that made her nose crinkle and immediately shed the offending stench before it clung to her pores. There was a familiar twinge across her arms and legs that told of physical strain, her hands brushed over muscles to work out the kinks that hadn't been stretched out properly, hearing a pop in her shoulder that made her wince in satisfaction at the pressure. Magdalena gathered her clothing into a dark mass before dumping the contents into a bin designated for their departure before making her own leave to the lavatory with its door askew. Flipping on the switch revealed a rather surprising sight of a shattered mirror and her toiletries haphazardly strewn about on the linoleum. She groaned inwardly. There was also a reason Magdalena Abendroth didn't drink. It wasn't a low tolerance towards alcohol, but rather her aptitude for it. It seemed no matter how many bottles she downed, an impressive feat given her size, and the amount of tumblers turned over in front of her, she didn't stumble, falter or slur her appointed speech. As long as she didn't stand up. However it only took one singular event to spur the complete unleashing of a rampaging, table flipping woman of Germanic phrases and swears that made the most lewd and provocative blush scarlet to their roots. The unfortunate receiver of such rampegeous vocalizations had been the primary target of thrown furniture and miscellaneous paraphernalia of common dorm facilities and their lounges, the windows however received full force of her impressive throws and slinging lamps across far metrics. Her formidable exercises did not go to waste in this dark hour of inebriated festivities. She wasn't entirely sure who, one her much bigger, stronger companions no doubt, that had swooped her up and promptly ended her sudden assaults and locked her within a wall of flesh. Magdalena felt her cheeks heat at the hazed memory, the fact that she had lost control after being known for her indifferent mask to the public was a mockery and she was sure, by now, everyone was aware that a raging drunkard lived within Magdalena. [i]Oh how Freddy would be proud.[/i] "Fuck me," she groaned, merely toeing her objects aside before she bent at the waist to retrieve what remained of her brush. Grooming was usually a comforting process, and the lack of a hangover was a blessing, but her sheer embarrassment illustrated her movements as rushed and self-directed as she tore the bristles through wheat-blonde threads. She couldn't believe it, of all nights and moments to lose herself, and this time is wasn't at the painful summoning of the thing inside her. Magdalena used what remained of her shattered mirror to glare at her reflection of blue and blue. She wasn't entirely positive on the time either which made her fumbling mortification more pronounced as she stumbled back into her room and reclined to all fours to search out for her phone. She only hoped that with this being post-Graduation-drunken-ceremony that everyone would still be swept into a party fervor and simply forget. Magdalena dug under her clothing, searched through her sheets, and found the device lodged between the wall and mattress. Her fingers tapped idly against the back, thumbs hesitating as the screen indicated blank activity - no one had called her, no messages or indications of a congratulatory image. Just nothing. "Figures," she breathed and tossed the mobile away back onto her mattress, her eyes darkening and her shadow expanding into a pool that slid and formed over her thin carpeting. Alone in her room, embarrassed, perhaps a little angry, her spirits hummed and droned in a ominous howl that crested into a soft cry of a wounded hound. It really shouldn't have bothered her, but in this circumstance it did, for when she lost her father and brothers it seemed that she lost her mother as well. The elder Abendroth had secluded herself to her home, living off of the credits supplied to her father's widow and the supplied sub-credits from her brothers' demise; since neither of them had wills or heirs, everything was proffered to the mother to shelter and shoulder with what strength she had left. Magdalena was grateful enough to keepsake their photos and memories, all mortal possessions had been burned during her mother's last fit of anguish when she just wanted to forget, and that was the last phone call she had ever received from that woman. It didn't bother her so much now that she had other objectives and goals to pursue in her Academic career, but moments of clarity were harsh in reflection when she bothered to compare herself against others in startling contrasts. But now isn't the time, she thought, peeling off her negligee with delicacy as she puttered on back to her decimated shower. Now she had options, choices, things to accomplish and decisions to be theorized upon if she wanted to continue to prove herself. Magdalena contemplated under the hot spray, water in its cleansing properties sliding across her skin in familiar sensations. She tipped her face into the torrent, lifted her hands as if in penance to peel away the film of last nights' occurrences and the neglect of her mother's sorrow, to once again shelter the woe in her heart and allow her spirits to absorb such extremities. When she finally opened her eyes, darkness met them and she allowed it to be, because at least in the dark she was blind, and sometimes not seeing was better than witnessing the ugliness of her actual world. --- It didn't take her long to properly access herself, she had done this nearly everyday since she came here, but now today was met with a new sense of excitement though it was subdued in her eyes as usual, her shadow however vibrated with the intensity of her withheld emotion. Now garnered in black that hung off her shoulders and her short locks pulled back lazily in a clip centred on her scalp, Magdalena could only hope that she wouldn't be signaled out or recognized by her rather impressive performance under that alcoholic haze. She sighed around the heaviness of her tongue as she shucked on boots and laced them tight to her ankles before daring the excavation from her dorm's security. The door creaked under the poor pressure of once-upon-a-time busted hinges and she swiftly locked it with a flick of her wrist that chimed with the familiarity of [i]chakri[/i] that she donned with her thick, signature scarlet band. She pondered on where her friends were, having disbanded from the group as the night partied on until its peak of absolution and fulfillment, each of them seemed to gravitate to their own wants and agenda laid out for the evening and Magdalena had been no different. While remaining with them was natural and normal as the rising sun now blinding her cerulean oculus, she knew that each was unique in their individuality and that sometimes one had to embark from their closest friends in order to truly find themselves. She figured that was how it had to be now, her eyes deciding to contemplate her ebony laces, graduation had come and gone. She had been offered, or rather it had been heavily suggested she invest towards the biological and technological weapon infrastructure now receiving lead way into development so as to combat the Xenomorph more effectively. These individuals wanted to utilize Guardians are pure weaponized units of harsh military, to not only train them in their usual exercises for The Cause, but to harness the most destructive means of their spirits into an actual mechanized machine. Magdalena wasn't entirely confident about the potential they advertised, after all she had been under their mercy once before when demonstrating [i]Chaos[/i] for the first, and she hoped last, time. Her eyes flickered towards her palm, the scar that was a reminder constantly for when she impaled herself at their behest, she could have it removed completely and healed by her Light wielding companion, or her own natural healing abilities. But she had been adamant that it remain there, for her own masochistic means perhaps, though Magdalena had never given an out spoken reason for it. She clenched her fingers until her knuckles bloomed white and she picked up her pace down the board walk, admiring the decorum of her school and the impressive oak tree where students were gathered around, nursing their own hang overs. Magdalena offered them mock salutes as she passed, her trajectory and mission was to gather some much needed food and avoid being seen before she committed herself entirely to the experimentation that was laid out before her. She wondered if maybe she should have discussed it with her friends, to gain advice from them; all of their harsh honesty's and opinions, their wills to speak out for themselves that she sometimes envied. She sighed quietly to herself and rubbed her fingers across the nape of her neck where some of her most tension gathered when she thought too much, over thinking about it wouldn't do her any good. So she attempted to banish the thoughts until a firm hand clapped over her thin shoulder. "What in the hell —" she sputtered, spinning on her heel and facing her — [i]oh[/i]. The boy in front of her held up his hands in defense, his grin sheepish, embarrassed, perhaps a little devious in the way his shoulders bunched too. "Look before you punch me, again, I just wanted to apologize. I had no idea you were so," he struggled for the word. "Violent." He shoved his hands through his brunette locks and whistled out a sigh, awkward in his stance. "I just thought, well, you were [i]all over me[/i]—" "I was not, I tripped. The fact that your lap was... there, is entirely irrelevant." "That's not how I remembered it, err." She folded her arms around her middle in agitation, her shadow pooling around her before shrinking and clamouring over her body, as if to embrace her as well. The male individual's eyes widened at witnessing it and his sneaker clad foot took a step back when he saw she didn't cast a normal shadow. "What?" Her voice was neutral, monotone, her eyes darkened onto his visage when he continued to gape at the ground beneath her feet. "Nothing, I just, I'm sorry. I didn't meant to grab you, like that. I didn't know..." His baritone faded out with the sharp summoning of the PA system, both of their eyes casting up as if to see the person whose voice was blaring through the speakers. Each name called out made her skin tingle, nerves firing in excitement until they flared out completely when her name was also tacked on to the list. Oh this was purely a blessing to save her from this awkward moment. "Look, if you ever want to, you know?" Her response was a solitary punch to his shoulder, spinning him out of the way as she promptly made headway towards the administration office, almost breaking into a jog as she sought to separate herself from the reminder of her embarrassment. But last night seemed far away and didn't matter, she had contemplated SWARG before they head of BATW sought her out once again, so to now be summoned for it and to be united with those she cherished most was another moment to savoir in their lives together. A small smile graced her features and her shadow spun in a wide circle before settling once again at her heels, a constant companion as always. "I know," she spoke to it, reaching out her arm as it coiled across her hand and shoulder. "I'm happy it turned out this way as well."