[center][h1][color=cyan]Cynthia Schovajsa[/color][/h1][/center]

	Cynthia shrugged off the horrible taste. [color=cyan]"I know the thmell of medicine—and I am confident in my poisson ressithtance,"[/color] she offered, in an attempt to explain herself. Reptilians were hardy creatures, and she was sure that she could probably drink more of that elixir than a human, though she decided not to push her luck. Instead, she pocketed the other two, and watched Mitsuko give Shin'Za a demonstration of his new weapon—and though Cynthia remained calm on the outside, on the inside she was cursing herself for not spending more time training in firearms. Muskets, she had rightfully deemed useless, but this... Was that—jealousy, she was feeling? [color=cyan]"A fine weapon,"[/color] she remarked with a fanged grin, admiring it with proverbially green eyes.

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	[color=lime][sub][sub][i]Hello? Is someone there?[/i][/sub][/sub][/color]

	Just as Mitsuko was leading the champions to the exit, a small, feminine voice called out—not audibly, but spiritually, and only in the faintest of whispers did it come, as if from another place and time in the multiverse that was far, far away from the ruined world of the corrupted Amaterasu. Though it came only faintly, and ghostlike, it was also distinct. It was not a noise. It was not a mistake. Someone had called out to both Sybil and Valentin, as if they'd sensed that [i]someone[/i] had entered their range of communication—but not who or why, perhaps.

	[color=lime][sub][sub][i]It's so dark. It's so cold. It hurts... Please, anyone...[/i][/sub][/sub][/color]

	The voice took on a gentle kind of desperation, as if it knew that those it contacted would leave if it did not persist. It almost seemed to come from a direction, now, too: a small iron door that had been overlooked. Inside an indent in the door was a heavy handle bound with caution tape. It was the kind of door that was designed to seal something inside, such that neither person, liquid, nor even air could escape—but it had been left ajar. The room it led to had been trashed, as if the last person to enter it had been looking for something. In it, illegible, water-damaged, and blood-stained documents littered the floor, along with broken glass. The room had a pungent smell, of dead flesh that had long since finished decaying, and been mostly scavenged by animals.

	There was also something else, in the corner of the room. An octahedron-shaped crystal laid abandoned amidst a nest of more papers, so fragile that they would crumble to dust if one were to attempt to lift them up off the ground. It was an uncanny black color that would be quite difficult to describe to one who hadn't seen it. It felt as if the object didn't belong in a 3D space. Its edges bordered on the imperceptible—whenever the one beholding it stood still, it looked like a flat silhouette. Only in motion did it seem to take on a shape, and only just. That was, until someone approached it. Then, tiny green lights would flock to its surface, sparkling against its dark edges like TV static—or for the less technologically inclined, like a reflection of the stars in the ocean at night, the blackest of black water.

	The voice did not speak again. The crystal, however, did give off the distinct impression that someone was watching from inside of it—frozen still with fright, holding their breath in trepidation, as if suddenly reconsidering their choice to call out to someone—blinded eyes darting here and there as if hoping yet dreading to see who or what was approaching, but to no avail against the inky blackness all around them. They were cold, shivering, and alone, yet now found themselves torn between the fear of death, and the hope of release.

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	Outside, Cynthia looked around at the ruined buildings. The architecture was recognizable as human in design, but was still somewhat alien to her. What strange trees, she thought, glancing at the decrepit power lines. It brought to mind images of a swamp, for some reason, which made her grateful for the somewhat moderate climate, though the taste of the ocean on the air was a peculiar sensation. When Mitsuko mentioned trains, Cynthia visibly perked up a little, as if Mitsuko had said her name. Trains! Finally, a concept Cynthia was familiar with. These tracks, however, were strange to her still. They were carved into the street, rather than built onto the earth like the ruined railway of her own planet that now only provided some sparse landmarks in the desert to guide weary travelers.

	She wasn't given any time for idle conversation, however. Just then, the being Mitsuko called Hachiman appeared to give them a warm welcome. She introduced him as a god of warriors and of war, but Cynthia scoffed. What kind of god hid their face from their opponent? For a warrior to hide one's face from another's was to show deference. [i]Submission[/i]. Cynthia Schovajsa showed her face. Those beneath the War Queen covered their faces with veils when addressing her—and when fighting alongside her, with metal masks like this one. However, she would take Mitsuko's warning about his sword's enchantment very seriously. A coward with a weapon that strong was still very dangerous.

	She leapt out of the way of the initial strike, which seemed to be aimed at no one in particular. When he turned to target Mitsuko, Cynthia was alarmed at first, preparing to strike Hachiman from behind to help her—but she seemed to be handling it, so she instead took the opportunity to cast some kind of buff on herself, which bathed her in dancing red lights. She felt the increase of her physical strength ten fold, as the elixir had promised, and grinned. She grinned even wilder still as the moon elf's spell—which put her own spell to shame with the variety of its effects—fell upon her as well. She chased Hachiman down as he taunted Mitsuko, her katana surging with red lightning. As she came upon the place where Hachiman had leaped from, she stomped on the metal rail, causing a section of the road around it to crumble and fall. She then jumped down herself, occupying the space between Hachiman and Mitsuko.

	[color=cyan]"I am the War Queen. I have come to claim your life,"[/color] she greeted, pointing her sword at the heap of rubble.

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[right][@Kumbaris] [@The Muse] [@Martian][/right][/sub]