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[indent][i][color=#ff57ff]'And with a shaking breath, Percival let her fingers dance across the keyboard, commands cutting across the dark space with crisp, white letters...'[/color][/i] Narration buzzed in the back of Siena's skull as she listened to the rumble of their transport. To say that Siena was uncomfortable was an understatement--[i]of course it was uncomfortable. She was a subnatural. Not to be trusted[/i]--but she took the situation in stride. She had volunteered to present herself after the lines had started blurring, and there wasn't much room for her to complain. Nevermind that she missed her plush blankets and her room of dolls...this was a necessary step. Apparently. [i][color=#ff57ff]'Only a few lines in, the child felt a surge of doubt. Perhaps stealing information from a friend wasn't the best way to g--!'[/color][/i]

The truck came to a stop, sending Siena's slight frame lurching slightly. Hazel eyes opened just in time to see conflict, and a surge of unease settled over Siena's chest. Had she not been bound, the girl would have moved to start pulling at the ends of her hair. Not solely because there was fighting--that was surprising, but not entirely unexpected--but because anyone that [i]ever[/i] watched the news would have recognized the abilities of the Precursors. Because they shouldn't have been fighting, and yet they [i]were[/i], and something about that was inherently wrong. More than that, if something went wrong and the truck happened to break open...

Images of explosions, carnage, and overall unpleasantness came to mind. 

Fortunately for one anxious Siena Santana, the trucks were quick to move along and away, and after about five pages worth of narration in her head, the girl returned to a placid state of mind until being shuffled out of the frying pan and into the fire. As expected, there were words outlining the wisdom of [i]not[/i] resisting, warnings against escaping, and words that, if they were printed on a page, Siena would have rolled her eyes at for being hammy--but she didn't voice that thought out loud. Naturally, there were a few that were less careful about voicing their irritation, drawing another anxious throb and the urge to tug at the ends of her hair.

"[color=#ff57ff]...I wonder how rooming will work...[/color]" The thought was more for herself and anyone around her more than an actual question. Anything to pull her own attention away from the fact that there were guns pointed at her from every angle and apparently a few bullfighters in the crowd.[/indent]