[i]Oof.[/i] Sinmara's face fell. Maybe she'd been wrong to get her hopes up. Just about every countenance drawn her way by her declaration of challenge held either apprehension or scorn. Such familiarly inhospitable expressions had routinely confronted her from the facility's staff since she'd been brought here. Almost every soul she met turned away at her approach, and fewer still indulged her. Would these classmates shrink from her as well? But...hadn't the staff told her, from the first day they brought her here, that she would be part of a team of special people like her? That they would fight together against the machines?

Of all the prospective Sunderers, a solitary girl greeted her with an air of amusement, if not cordiality. Glad for any attention, Sinmara turned her whole focus on Yumi. Without any sort of hesitation or delay she got the demon's name wrong, then mistakenly assumed she wielded a sword rather than the hyper-badass chainsaw spear Moloch, all of which the blonde expressed in broken English, but Sinmara hardly cared. She beamed at the prospect of an actual comrade. “Sort of! Want to find out?” Rather than accept her as an opponent, however, Yumi labeled her a friend. “Friend?” Sinmara repeated, running a hand through her hair as her fire died down. She didn't have any, so she didn't know if they were good for fighting, but it was a start, wasn't it? And Yumi seemed so eager—the demon girl could respect a little enthusiasm! “Sure thing! We'll be best darned friends that ever were!” she announced with gusto. It was hard not to return Yumi's infectious smile.

The others seemed to be making a point of minding their own business, more or less. One, who put rather little effort into masking her displeasure, suggested she do her fighting elsewhere. “No kidding!” Sinmara agreed with a sigh. If anything was obvious, it was that her daydream of trashing this place in an epic showdown would have to wait. Her newfound friend didn't want to brawl just yet, and the others were already treating her like the plague. Well, that was fine. How many friends had they made, after all? If she couldn't beat them up, she could at least beat them in this regard. Her bright gaze shifted toward the others, a girl with white hair and another with blue-horns. “Heya! What's your names...?” Wait, horns? Sinmara's eyes narrowed as her mind strained to piece together a half-remembered scene, fraught with horn-profuse folks gathered around her, uniform in their silence and piercing stare, watching and waiting. But she couldn't recall that hazy day, recent as it surely must have been. She looked away.

Eve had told her to ask an instructor where she could fight, but she already knew, having been shepherded there more than once already. She stifled a yawn. Nobody wanted to scrap, nobody wanted to talk. Nothing was happening. Sinmara could feel herself growing bored again. All the energy displayed a moment ago quickly decayed into a forlorn malaise. She exhaled heavily and drooped down into a sitting position, her long braid lying curled on the floor like a flagging serpent. At least down here she could drift off into another comforting daydream without having to worry about hitting the floor again.