[h1]
[color=purple]Kalama Guynn[/color]
[/h1]

First Daria, now Valeria? Kalama bristled as soon as Caleb tackled her, half-rising from her seat before she realized that Val could clearly handle herself and there wasn't anything she could do that the Russian didn't already have handled. Well, nothing besides set them on fire. Feeling a little guilty the young witch sat back down, sinking into further guilt as the athletes quickly worked the situation out. His apology even sounded genuine, damn him.

Then he demonstrated his power, and even behind the awe Kalama felt an abrupt pang of jealousy. Why did he get the useful, constructive ability while she got unchecked destruction? In what world should he, thief of girlfriends, breaker of hearts, mend the very wounds he creates? But behind her frustration was a deep well of guilt. He blamed himself for the fire. He blamed himself for Daria's injuries. Although it felt weird to keep quiet while everyone else at the table spoke up with something weird they could do - even Elysia chimed in with her phone - she wasn't even about to light something on fire to show off. Maybe that was one secret best kept for a little longer.

Rotating Elysia's drawing towards herself, Kalama's eyes widened in alarm when she saw a suspiciously familiar car sitting in her place. [color=purple]"Yeah, there was another dude, Ken. Something weird happened with him, he ran off after a rat bit this crazy driver... it's kind of a long story, but a rat with a monkey wrench kind of sums it up,"[/color] She explained, remembering how Ken's presence had felt like this, weird but good. Being around them was like getting a hug from a stranger, pleasant in some ways but uncomfortably intimate. Maybe it was that aura that made everyone overshare. Or maybe...

[color=purple]"You're being awfully quiet, Kyle,"[/color] Kalama noticed. [color=purple]"What's your weird thing? Do you get people to overshare out of the blue?"[/color] The defensive question, hopefully, would prevent her from having to answer for the same. How could she admit to the group that she was just like them, but so much worse? How could she tell Caleb?

The better question, but one she wasn't ready to face: how long could she keep it from them? From him?


[color=cadetblue][h1]Rowan Childe[/h1][/color]

[color=cadetblue]"I think we all just need to calm down and take a deep breath," [/color]Rowan suggested, giving Kalama a reproachful look for her tone. He had been completely out of it from summoning the bugs, barely coming back to Earth in time to see Caleb demonstrate his healing powers, and still far too dazed out to speak until his roommate's stressful words gave him little choice. They had already started to draw glances from other, quieter tables at Poor Yorick's and he wasn't interested in being the next big viral video star.

Choosing to lead by example, he closed his eyes and did two big circular breaths before speaking again. [color=cadetblue]"Does anyone know what's going on, or are we all in the dark about this? Personally, I don't think it's coincidence that we're all taking that witchcraft class together,"[/color] He offered up. [color=cadetblue]"Who else has ideas to share?"[/color] Despite his cool, calm demeanor, Rowan was playing with his dreadlocks again.

This whole situation had shaken him to his core. One man with a weird gift was enough to shake his worldview, but a whole group of people who could do impossible things? That turned it upside down. He hadn't been a believer in years, but he suddenly found himself wishing for faith in a higher power. Ordinary people shouldn't be able to set cars on fire or make rats bite people with only their minds. It felt like he was back in boot camp watching a bunch of tryhard teenagers learn how to shoot guns, only this time without even the benefit of drill sergeants.