A veritable storm cloud hung over Celica’s head as she stood at the meeting point, arms folded in front of her, icy eyes scowling ahead at some point beyond the growing congregation. She was wearing her usual attire, the pockets pulled taut in a way that suggested she was carrying ample ammunition for the pistols holstered on her belt, but for the moment she retained her human form. 

Her mood had been dark for some time now. It was not something she had much reason to speak about too often, so not many beyond those who happened to ask or were familiar with her files knew of it, but she had been born in Argentina. Her mother had lived there for the vast majority of her life before she met her husband. Celica remembered little of those first three years after she had been born, when her family had lived in the capital, but she had returned several times with her parents to visit family. Many of her uncles, aunts and cousins lived in Buenos Aires.

The announcement that an Endolan Shifter party had been located in the country had sent a chill down her spine. She tried asking officers and teachers, human and Mythic alike, if they knew where exactly the Gate had opened, but those that knew insisted that the information was to be shared purely in a need to know basis. 

She recalled with particular bitterness one of the rebukes she had received when she had pressed for an actual answer. 

[i]‘I’m just following orders. I suggest you do the same.’ Blasted bureaucrats. Say enough over a loudspeaker to get us riled up, then refuse to elaborate. What do they expect me to do with the information?[/i]

Truth be told, she had considered using one of the teleporting stations to smuggle herself over to the fighting, if only to spite the Shifter that had blown her off, but the plan fell apart in her head almost as swiftly as it was cobbled together. She would not be able to use a teleporting station on her own without someone catching on. They were supervised too tightly, particularly in a situation such as theirs, for her to do as she willed with them. Even if she did make it, what would she do? Join the fighting and pretend she was one of the Graduate Shifters? Run over to her closest relatives and make sure they were being evacuated? She was more likely to be a burden than an aid.

Irresponsible and wasteful. Childish. She had discarded the idea almost immediately. 

Instead, she dialed a few numbers in her phone, but she got no answer. Likely sleeping, she concluded. It would be nighttime where the attack was taking place, in account of the time zones. The alternative did not bear dwelling on.

It left her little choice but to trust in the Shifters sent to deal with it. Argentina was a large country, either way. She did not even know if they were near enough that she should worry. She told this to herself again and again, but it did little to allay her frustrations. 

When she heard a second Gate had opened near the Academy, Celica had felt a guilty, almost vindictive sort of pleasure. Here she had an opportunity to redirect all her anger at the ones truly responsible for it. But as more and more Shifters gathered, waiting for their instructions, it became more difficult to hold that grim determination to the forefront of her mind.

She knew that, until reinforcements could be brought back from the Argentinian front, the Academy’s defense would fall squarely on the lap of the third year students. Most of the Graduates were gone, and those remaining were likely to fall on organizational positions. First year and second year students were not deemed ready for this kind of combat yet, and they could not count on the Mythics for help at the front lines. She doubted they would get involved unless they were threatened personally.

This would be an entry rite for many of the students gathered here. To those that survived, at least. And what other aim could their enemy have than to eliminate the weakest of their forces while they were still undergoing training?

Celica found her right hand gripping tightly on the grip of one of her pistols. That always managed to bring her a certain amount of reassurance that not even her power could give her. A weight of a weapon felt solid and reliable in her hand, regardless of its effectiveness, and she almost dreaded the fact that she would barely be able to feel it once the fight truly began.

With a grunt, she put those thoughts away and scanned the room. Here and there she saw familiar faces, some she shared a class with, and others she knew personally. She found herself looking for Alice and Charles, but, if they had reached the meeting point, they were hidden from her. 

Twitching tails in front of her, occasionally snapping about as if in distress, drew her eyes to a Kitsune girl who with a familiar face. Celica's eyes lingered just long enough to recognize her as Lily, the one that Alice had fought in the year’s first spar. Her Shifter form was certainly a lot… fuller than she had expected when she had spoken to her. She would have been jealous if she did not have so much in her mind. Or if she could not imagine those things hurting whenever she ran.

With little else to do but brood as she waited, she approached the woman from behind until she was standing beside her. “Everything’s going to hell,” she commented, deadpan. Expert on breaking the ice, she was. Regardless, the simple admission did much to steady her growing nerves. Celica gave the Kitsune a sidelong glance and a wry, lopsided smile. “How are you doing?”