┊　　　 ┊　　 ┊ [indent]It was nice to be touched; physical nuances often crafted connections of self, of soul and meaning — spirit. Dexterous gestures bidden under sympathy and comfort, confidence, reassuring clasps of warmth spindling from finger tips and palms. It was pleasant, bringing a thrill of heat under her skin when arms wove around and hugged her, though quick and fleeting in a smidgen of acknowledgement, it was enough to banish her fear for just a moment. Just like with the Appleberrys' who had embraced fully despite the flare of fire through her pores, it made Magdalena want to hold on to something. Her fingers expanded from her sides, each digit hardened, calloused by years of childish antics and sparring difficulties that blossomed finally into deadly elegance. It was so easy for other people to touch and embrace, to feel and cajole and comfort those beside them, she briefly wonders how they do it, and if maybe one day she could do the same. She recalled once trying to comfort Freddy in a typical figure of rage, to instead pamper the emotions hidden within him using a soft touch, a gesture to soothe, but she only succeeded in curling her fist and rocketing it towards his jaw — it had silenced him for maybe a minute. But for Magdalena it was sometimes difficult now to touch people, a harsh complexity further sharpened in her mind when she attempted to approach individuals such as her friends, unable to meet their gazes still or when their spirits flared alive and reacted so strangely, their behavior entirely a mystery. She's entirely grateful for when they [i]try[/i], but is it enough? Magdalena can't find the answer in herself, but she cuts her eyes over her shoulder through a fringe of pale blonde, watching as everyone slowly begins to gather and takes each and everyone one of them, cataloging their features, habits, tucking each precious individuality in her mind. She'll find the answer, not now maybe, but she'll bring herself to propose the inquiry another time when she's kneeling in the dirt, lost and spent and brought to the end of her measures as they fight on, it'll be in the last catches of breath when she finally finds the answer. She smiles softly to herself, only to have it ripped horribly from her visage by the harsh baritone sounding from her shoulder. "First Lieutenant Abendroth." And inside her blood freezes, it sucks her breath from her lungs in horrid fear and she stills, fingers curling into palms and she feels as if the very marrow of her bones is forged entirely of glacier pieces. It's like they all think, ponder on, she's like ice and so very cold like the blue of her endless gaze. Her response is only torn from her like this by the head of BATW, his beam is soft on the edges but his eyes are like turbulent thunder heads swollen and threatening to unleash a torrent, it makes her nervous. Magdalena though doesn't tremble before him, presenting herself forward in a salute and her spine rigid, be it in fear or something else, she doesn't contemplate it. His posture is lax, easy, uncoiled like the serpentine spirited ravager he is within and his smile splits at the seams to laugh; it's a soft chortle that makes her eyes pinch at the borders. "At ease soldier," he allows and her stance changes to hands loosely clasped at the base of her spine and her feet separated a predetermined width, she doesn't speak; she [i]can't[/i]. "Though we can address familiarly, none of that formal annoyance." He waves his hand delicately, as if to banish the entire ceremony of respect per their ranks. "Yes, sir —" she whispers, though interrupted. "Julian." It was ominous in addressing him personally and his casualness spurred her paranoia into a hypersensitive overdrive, her shadow flickers and he [i]notices[/i]. "It's interesting how intuitive it is, isn't it? Constantly fluctuates to your emotions, every little facial twitch — though few and far between — illustrated by the very thing which we all have. But yours is much more than that, it's a reflection of what you want to be, how you want to feel and act. Despite your fragile size, you hold something so much bigger and withstanding in your very, beating, heart." He murmured, voice low. Every word was articulate in its expression, every pronunciation meaningful and to the sharpened point, refined to assault her. Julian, as he preferred, approached casually in his sentencing, poised his hand against her shoulder and she could feel the pressure increasing into an iron enforced grasp. Magdalena felt her skin flare up in contact, this sort of touch outlandish and threatening, nothing like the warm embraces she had received earlier. "I wanted to test that heart, I wanted to look inside and see what really lurks beneath all of this." His other hand ascended to her neck and delicately, as if caressing her skin and jaw, he tips her face back and the panic settles in her eyes when blue is forced to meet grey. Submerged within the storm; and she flinches. "And take that which you suppress and use it, make it a weapon, I've seen what Chaos can do, it would be a truly powerful thing to harness. You and your friends." And then his smile folded, deformed into a scowl and the ashen glare of his eyes was troubling. "But Cid, hehe, he had other plans. He promised you to our unit and then pinned you into WARG. Laughable really, he's clever, they all are." His grip tightened and Magdalena winced at the bruising of her thin shoulder. "I don't like to lose, Magdalena, and I don't give up easily." One more cinch and she grit her teeth against the pain, bore it, relished in it and tucked it away inside to be used later. Her spirits howled in aggression and they beat at her soul, wanting to be released, she felt heat pool in her mouth and panted at the extremities desiring to protect her. [i]Stop. . . [/i] "Just remember that."[/indent] --- ┊»ｄｅｐａｒｔｕｒｅ● [indent]She was troubled, bruised, and still absolutely terrified. Julian had left before Magdalena could protest or respond, her voice lost somewhere in her breast and throat where it hitched and made a bloody mess of her insides, wanting to be heard. But she had thinned her lips and shoved it down, away, locked it with a secure knot and avoided any eyes or glances and merely looked ahead. She couldn't allow him to distract her, she had to be strong. Sawyer was a decent enough aberration. His bluster is something she's used to, the artful language and vocabulary a typical front of acrimony in a military official. He doesn't necessarily phase her, she's endured much worse, especially compared to Julian's frigid malice, but his words sink in deep and the cerulean of her stare hardens into sapphire. Magdalena knows what she has to do, she has an objective now, a goal and mindset that is unwavering in its conviction and her anticipation only swells when they finally embark — each settling in their own pace, merging into a team that has been constant and always there. She took it upon herself to stand at the left flank, sort of ahead and set afar, but close enough to receive orders should they be acquired during their trek. She admires the country side and lolling of thunder overhead, each sound a comforting rumble that mimics the tempo of her erratic heart and the spirits surrounding her. It's as if the air of the fields beckons them, their unknown natures summoned by this natural ecosystem not tampered by science but only cultivated candidly by dynamics they can't begin to comprehend. Her shadows frolic, unbidden or restrained by her and her own spans out, connecting to everyone's for a brief moment before coiling back at her feet. Magdalena flexed her fingers, watching the dark obscurity mirror her actions by constricting and fanning out repeatedly. It was almost jovial, to interact with these mysteries, some of the wispy apparitions composed of a ruby core that shimmered and glowed, as if possessing a heart — though she knew those to be the ones consisting of her fire. They sunk beneath her skin when Olivia announced a much a needed breather, reclining to her backside as her want and proclaiming five minutes was very desperately needed. She didn't like it, being out in the open, vulnerable by their excursion and physical limits. She's barely even winded by the strain, but she can imagine that a hangover would limit someone's truly capabilities. Magdalena gives her a once over before casting her gaze off into the distance, her teeth are a sliver of white against the pout of her lip; she hates being idle. Her fingers clenched. She wanted something to do, no, she wanted a fight. A battle, a way to expend her stress and worries and the excess of emotions boiling inside her. Magdalena seeks out the one person she would retreat to in these times, his heavily armoured figure bending in concern to address Olivia as Aaron and Freddy both seemed to do the same, though the latter was instructed away. She doubted that demanding he spar with her in the here and now would be well advised, but it was all she knew. In her academic years Magdalena had often sought out Kimberly during her moments of pure distress, undone by herself or some one else, she would approach silently with her head bowed and he would simply nod, never speaking as no words needed to be spared. His silence wasn't something she minded and to him she sometimes raged and screamed, letting the reins drop from her revere and striking out with her loneliness, her agony, and her self directed torment. Every hit would spear her pleasantly in pain and in the end, she'd be left shaking and her knuckles aflame in red and sometimes bloody. Every time was usually different and sometimes it seemed as if two completely individuals were participating in the match, but Magdalena was thankful for those moments. She didn't have to pretend. "I don't like just sitting here, waiting." Her blue eyes followed Remi curiously, observing him just as he did the same towards their destination. Her shadow expanded, the edges seeking out potential dangers. It was a good idea. "It's too open," Magdalena said and gestured out towards the fields, the farms dotting the landscape and the hills peaking at low points though she could imagine forces hidden in their small shadows. "I think," Magdalena paused, her voice almost blotted out by the roll of thunder, the low clap vibrating to her bones. "We should keep moving. Anything can happen out here." Call her paranoid, acutely assuaged by her encounter with Julian, but she couldn't shake the feeling of something horrid awaiting their arrival on the battle front.[/indent]