[center][h2][color=cyan]Sander Lorraine[/color][/h2]
[img]http://i65.tinypic.com/28hztyw.png[/img][/center]


Sander had been here before. 

He remembered this place well, when they bound him with stag chains and dripped red down his throat until he was nothing else but fire and fury. Sometimes, it would bring him here. 

Its form was not something the human sense could, or should, comprehend. So there was just a vastness. Waves upon waves of gentle emptiness that lapped against his skin. It held him like familiar arms, closer and tighter than anyone ever had. Warmth soaked into his skin, fuel to his fire, and he did not fight. He knew power when it bled into him. And here, he couldn’t lie. He wanted this.

It had got its hooks in him now. It always had. Its touch is tainted. Unholy. But it was all he knew. 

[hr] 

Something snapped, and Sander found himself back in the battlefield, the warmth on his fingertips already faded. He clenched his fists, still covered in the bright glow and white mist of both his teammates’ powers, as if to cling onto what was left. However, his eyes darted onto the smears of Christmas’ blood. Lawrence’s power dulled his cravings, but after his latest fix, Sander could already feel the thirst tugging at the edges of his thoughts. He knew that he was so close, but he didn’t want to risk it. He couldn’t, not with Christmas…like this. Not even when the blond boy clearly didn’t have any use for the pooling blood on the ground. So with gritted teeth, Sander struggled to his feet and scanned the battlefield, the primal urges slowly cutting through the haze of Lawrence’s mind magic. His improved senses could easily pick out the standing members of Blue team, and it was obvious that they were mostly finished with their assigned targets. However, beyond them, the sound of combat still rang in Green team’s direction. He spared the senior students a glance as he dashed off toward the stench of pine needles and marinara. Despite the lumbering monster, Pink team didn’t smell like they were bleeding. Not as much as Green team, anyway. 

Somewhere along the way, Lawrence’s magic was cut. The fire returned, stronger than ever, and Sander almost choked on the metallic scent that hit him as he passed the Blue team. Then something else permeated the air. The next few gulps of air brought an unnatural heaviness to his head. His neck-break sprint faltered, but soon enough, the bout of nausea was gone. He resumed his mad dash toward the Green team location, and soon found himself approaching them. 

They looked rather battered, but he wouldn’t blame them. Their targets seemed dangerous and bizarre: floating plates of tentacle creatures and a scaly beast. His body charged before he could form coherent thoughts, and he let it. Maybe it was better this way; he could persuade himself to ignore the mangled bodies or the helpless girl hanging upside down nearby. He wanted to help, truly, but he was afraid. He didn’t trust his strength and he most certainly didn’t trust his resolve. So with a few steps and a final leap, he landed on the abomination, hands grabbing onto its tentacles. They did not feel very hard in his hands, so he began to tear away at the appendages.