PapiTan

𝖤𝖵𝖤𝖱𝖳𝖧𝖮𝖱𝖭𝖲 (A Magical Girl/Boy RP)

I will have no calm about magical girls.
Feast on fries and burgers.
Cry over trying to live like a human being.

𝖤𝖵𝖤𝖱𝖳𝖧𝖮𝖱𝖭𝖲 (A Magical Girl/Boy RP)

/SHOUTS IN MAGICAL CRITTERS

Celestial Bonds

I'll get the CS over here...after work. Yes.

Celestial Bonds - A Fantasy Pair RP

/dying cat noises of interest

Celestial Bonds

Vitus & Liv

---

𝓝𝓸𝓿𝓮𝓶𝓫𝓮𝓻 𝟕𝓽𝓱, 𝟏𝟑𝟐𝟕 / / 𝓐𝓾𝓼𝓯𝓮𝓵𝓭 / / 𝓒𝓪𝓻𝓻𝓲𝓭𝓪𝓷'𝓼 𝓔𝓼𝓽𝓪𝓽𝓮 / / 𝓔𝓿𝓮𝓷𝓲𝓷𝓰

---

"Well, they certainly seemed the lively sort!" Vitus said, standing in front of the vanity mirror in their room. Dinner had progressed about as well as could be expected; he was sated but had not been overindulgent, and had savored every bite with the appreciation that such a meal deserved. Even if he had eaten a similar meal naught but a week ago - but it couldn't be helped; variety with the influence of strangers was impossible to plan around, of course.

He'd wasted no time in escorting Liv back to their room, half because he didn't want to be around some of that rabble, and half because he didn't want Liv besmirching his name in front of the more respectable patrons. Truth be told, however, the entire display had left him a little apprehensive. Most of the people at the dinner didn't seem to be aware of the standing such an honor would place them in, and a few otehrs simply didn't seem like they were in the right gathering. Sure, Liv herself was nothing more than a theiving ragamuffin, but she had him to thank for pulling her towards greatness. Some of the others; well...they wouldn't know greatness if it dusted their collars for them.

"Wouldn' wanna be stuck 'round 'em long," Liv muttered, eyes darting briefly to the mirror as she pulled at the sleeve of the fabric contraption that she'd been confined to through the dinner. The movement was habitual, an action to try and loosen the cloth to no success. Finding no real satisfaction in her observation, the thief returned her attention to expertly dismantling the sleeve of her gown, the task made significantly easier upon receiving her undivided focus. Stitches came apart with soft ripping sounds, fibers splitting with the girl's administrations.

She should have done that ages ago.

"Dunno 'bout that fancy noble stuff, but some'f them seem real..uh..." Liv paused. What was the word? Her expression faltered, her actions pausing at the same time. "...'s the word?"

"Unfit? Ill-mannered? Eccentric?" Vitus offered, not removing his gaze from his own reflection as he undid the buttons on the front of his outift, attempting to get out of his clothing with far more care than his cohort was. Her situation was one that caused him no end of annoyance, and he rolled his eyes at the sound of popping seams.

"Must you destroy it? Did finery issue a slight against you at one point without my knowlege?" Vitus said dismissively. He made no move to assist her in her egress from the cruel machinations of the dress; after all, it wasn't his property that was being marred this time.

"Ec...Exsentric?" The word didn't roll off the tongue easily, and the lack of any other indications to its meaning made wild guessing a non-starter. Liv instead took satisfaction in the feeling of half of the sleeve coming off her dress. "'sat mean wordy?"

Her fingers went to work at trying to dispatch the remainder of the fine stitches, working with more speed after the mild amount of practice that she had managed to eke from the first step of her "work".

"I don' like it. I told ya already," Liv muttered, a low growl creeping into her voice despite her best efforts. It betrayed little irritation, but would have done its job on most. "Shitty thing jus' gets in th' way."

"Unconven-" Vitus started, giving an irritated sigh as he realized that explanation would do no good either. He finished undoing his buttons and slid his overshirt off, laying it on top of the vanity and folding it neatly. "Strange. It means strange."

He turned to watch with mild amusement as Liv struggled against the fabric. If he had known it would be this simple to trap (or at least hinder) the little devil, he might have considered it as an obstacle long ago. But how would it work? Hmm...

Things to think about for later.

"Do you need assistance, or would you rather satisfy yourself with tearing through it like a feral animal?"

"I don' need help." As if to punctuate the slight surge of irritation, the rest of the sleeve came off with a resounding tearing noise, the stitches torn this time through force instead of Liv's usual finesse. With her arm less confined, the thief visibly relaxed, but didn't bother to keep herself from moving on to the next sleeve.

It was weird, wasn't it? Weird. She didn't feel in place at the table at all during their meal. Everyone else had seemed at least somewhat at ease with their bond or whatever the hell was happening. Not understanding was one thing, not fitting in was another, but seeming to be the only one that failed to do both was infuriating.

The girl pulled more fervently at the sleeve.

"I don' see why I got some stupid in...inv..." She fumbled over the word again, gave up with a soft huff of frustration, and proceeded to unceremoniously tear half her other sleeve out of place. The fabric hung limply, attached by only a handful of stitches that stubbornly clung to their place. "Just don' see why 'm here 'n not yer snooty servants."

Vitus rolled his eyes again, although it wasn't at the sound of more ripping stitches this time, but something else. "Mere men cannot speak for the whims of gods, and gods cannot predict the influence of men." he said, reciting a verse he'd read once before and chuckling as though he'd just told a joke.

"If I could have chosen one of my staff over a skunk-haired brat, a brat that I might add has done nothing but steal my cutlery and my mints, I would have. As it stands, we've been hand-picked for greatness, whether we care for it or otherwise. We're stuck together, you and I; irregardless of what such a pairing entails."

For such a from-the-heart statement, it was quickly overshadowed by Vitus's demeanor as he continued. "But I certainly should have asked about bringing some of my personal staff, yes. Especially knowing that you weren't going to ferry any luggage."

None of that made any sense.

"Don' think I get it," Liv muttered while turning the explanation over in her head. Words that she didn't understand aside, it felt more like a long-winded "who knows why" than anything else. Her attention seemed to occupy itself with picking apart the final remaining stitches, though she did little more than gently pluck at loose threads. "Other'n bein' stuck with yer haughty arse. I got that."

The rogue gave a rough smirk, finally sending her gaze back to the noble. She still didn't understand, and to say that she wasn't still frustrated would have been a lie, but that was easy to overlook. "'n I brought some 'f yer stuff. Didn' check me or anythin' when we got here."

"You should be grateful, my dear Liv; there are trollops and vagabonds that would be honored to be by my side." Vitus said proudly, puffing up slightly as he said that. How many ladies would the servants have to turn away while he was out on this adventure, he wondered. A sad pittance, truly.

"And frankly, child, you can keep whatever you brought along. All I need to get by is my coinage - after all, what luxuries can wealth not purchase?" he pulled a small pouch out of his trouser pocket as he spoke, hefting it in his hands and listening to the soft clink of the coins inside. Although...

...he could have sworn it was heavier before he left. Odd.

"I can name a few things," Liv retorted, evidently finally content with how far she had decimated her clothing. "'n I took a few 'f those. Jus' 'n case."

The thief failed to mention that Vitus was right in some regard. Plenty of rats would have killed to be in Liv's position, and plenty more would have done worse than that. There were more than a few skeletons in the closet in that respect. No need to bring it up if he really thought that his staff was competent enough to stop every unsavory guest that had ever come to call.

"Thought ye just had t' ask for somethin' and they'd give it."

"Well, yes..." Vitus said, clearly preoccupied with opening his coin purse and looking inside. Had he not brought as much money as he thought he had? There was no reason to bring the entire Ayolous fortune, of course, but he could have sworn this pouch had more in it before he left.

Hmph. Something to worry about at a later time.

"Well yes, but what if something were to happen? I never put my full faith in the capability of strangers, my dear Liv. After all, incompetency lurks around every corner, and one must be vigilant! And this coin purse will solve all our...my...problems if any missteps like that were to occur!" he said, his pride evident in every word that spewed out of his mouth.

"Hmmm, wonder 'f there's a reason for incompunets 'round ya," Liv claimed, the taunt clear in her words. "Don' think that li'l purse'll have 'nough coin t' solve all yer problems."

Her eyes trailed over the pouch in question, mind trying to work out how many coins were in it to begin with. She could lighten the load by a little bit without any real issue...

"Though I can lif' a few more 'f ya need 'em."

"Even if it doesn't, we should have no issues!" Vitus said. "After all, not only am I Vitus Ayolous, but we're guests of The Church. People will want to help us, of course!"

It was only at that moment that Vitus acknowleged the rest of Liv's statement.

"And I think not. You keep your grubby little hands out of my...wait. Did you say 'more'?"

Liv didn't bother hiding the smirk that played across her face.

"I thought leavin' ya somethin' was nicer'n usual."

—(••[ 𝕎𝕀𝕊ℍ𝔼𝔸𝕋𝔼ℝ ]••)—

Ya Got Trouble

Hazel | Siena

---

𝕋𝕙𝕦𝕣𝕤: 𝕆𝕔𝕥𝕠𝕓𝕖𝕣 𝟠, 𝟚𝟘𝟚𝟘 // ℂ𝕣𝕚𝕞𝕖𝕟 ℂ𝕦𝕝𝕡𝕒𝕖 // 𝕊𝕠𝕞𝕖 ℙ𝕒𝕣𝕜 // 𝟙𝟛𝟘𝟘

---

_{Collab with...@GreenGoat}

Ya Got Trouble

A warm sunny day, with a light breeze blowing through the park. People passed the wandering young girl without a second thought, her mind seemingly occupied as she wandered around without any purpose. It was just a place Hazel had found by chance, as she started getting the urge to walk around. The feeling of guilt and worry was still there as she deviated from her usual regulated schedule, but it was growing steadily less and less as she found out no one here would even bat an eye if she was to try eating an entire plate full of fried things. Not that she was ever going to try that again, considering how sick she felt after doing so.

She stopped by a bend on the path, leaning on the raillings as she gazed on the large pond below.

It had taken some convincing (on her own part, really) for Siena to decide that she'd needed fresh air. Fresh as in air that wasn't stagnant or toxic with the weight of everything that had happened in the past few weeks. The brunette had tactfully managed to avoid most recognizable faces until she'd slipped out of her usual haunts, away from students that did doubletakes, looking like they might want to ask questions that Siena didn't have answers for. Regular people, at least, were keeping a distance from her, even if there were a few pointed looks and whispers.

All in all, she wasn't certain if it felt liberating or not.

'The park is nice, at least.' It wasn't much of a comfort, but Siena had found little comfort in anything since their return. Her mind was too busy trying to sort things out, to separate herself from the names she'd borrowed, and most of all, trying to distract her from--well, distractions were to take attention away from such thoughts. It was convenient, then, that she caught sight of a familiar face looking at the pond. It took Siena a moment to match a name--Hazel.

Memories of being swamped in sludge, half her sources destroyed, her lifeline buried in a slurry of ground. Fresher ones of panic when Brent had relayed the girl's condition. Siena took a breath, steeled herself, and made her approach, masking unease with concern.

"See anything interesting?" Siena called from a distance as she made her approach, hoping it was enough forewarning to prevent any startled reactions. No need to add "dunked into a pond" to her schedule for the day.

Hazel turned around and blinked, her mind turning up a blank for that face, familiar as it was.

"Who are you?" She asked, tilting her head slightly."Rina?"

It was a familiar face however, one that she had seen before fighting along her, but her name escaped her for the moment. Not that she was trying very hard to think about it, considering she was utterly transfixed on the quacking birds swimming in a line in the pond. It was funny that the birds were swimming from largest to smallest for her.

"Those." Hazel started to point at the ducks, before they all promptly flew away as a jogger ran by a path near the pond. "Ah."

"S-Siena, but close enough." Rina? The name didn't make Siena falter, especially when there didn't seem to be any malicious intent behind it. Had it been one of the galas or events held by her parents for high society, the brunette doubted that she could have placed that much faith into a simple mistake. Following the motion of Hazel's hand, Siena barely caught a glimpse of a line of ducklings before they became a mass of fluttering wings scattering in formation from a disturbance too close for comfort.

She was watching something that...simple? Tearing her eyes from the retreating forms of the ducks, Siena returned her attention to Hazel.

"Ah...don't worry, I'm sure they'll be back soon." It was an empty platitude, but between a natural anxiety and a faint level of curiosity, it was the only one she could really muster. Besides which, hadn't she had a bigger concern? "I'm glad to see you're well enough to be up and about though. You haven't had any complications in recovering, right?"

"Recovering?" Hazel gave a polite nod. "Yes. I have recovered completely, and is at optimal combat conditions. Am I needed for in a mission?"

Almost unconsciously, she straightened her simple white blouse, tucked into a muted brown colored long skirt, moving without even looking at what she was doing. An ingrained behaviour, one developed during her time in that Plant. She was shifting slightly from foot to foot, as if anxious to move now that the birds has disappeared. seeking another interesting spectacle to see.

The immediate reaction was almost startling, and Siena couldn't help but give an equally immediate response.

"O-Oh, no, I was just worried. I'm glad you're completely recovered." In the back of Siena's mind, the Arbiter couldn't help but wonder why she didn't seem to be catching as muich to read. It wasn't as though she suspected Hazel was hiding anything--perhaps that was what was so startling? Everyone had something to hide--but Siena didn't feel like everything was quite there.

What she could see, was that Hazel was shifting her weight, a sign of...impatience? No, not quite. Probably eager to see something else. 'Well, as long as I'm here, I should...try to get along with her.' Unease flickered through her head, reminding her of being left defenseless, but...Hazel didn't seem like she held malicious intent. "Do you mind if I join you for a bit? If you don't have plans, maybe we can find something you like."

"I do not mind," Hazel spoke quickly. She had already spied a long large boxy construction further away on the path, one which a few people had gathered around. "I have found an unknown object in the distance. Perhaps there will be something interesting there."

She wasn't paying any attention to Sienna at the moment, considering she preoccupied with the object in the distance. There was a fleeting thought that she should actually ask Sienna more things, but she did not know much about Sienna at the moment. In fact, Hazel realized Sienna drew a blank across many things when she tried to recall what she was and what she did.

'Unknown object?' Instinctively, Siena felt her gaze flick to the sky, a sense of dread filling her. One of the Rewanz--Rubenowitz? No, it was definitely Rewanz--boys had taken a keen interest in "unidentified objects", and most of them in the sky. Needless to say, he had not been included in his family's legacy. He had also been thoroughly unnerving in her few interactions during the last event that he'd been invited to.

Nothing in her line of sight when she flicked her gaze up, so Siena took solace in that and gave a quick nod.

"Do you explore like this often?" The question was the safest one that she could come up with, especially given that Siena wasn't entirely certain what said "unknown object" they were headed for. 'Shouldn't you figure that out first?' The thought went unheeded. Whatever this unknown object was, it probably wasn't dangerous.Probably.

"This is the first time I've tried." Hazel replied. "I've not usually the chance to move outside my room at all."

Once they were close, it was obvious what she was looking at was a hotdog vendor. She was closely observing the man who seemed to be operating the vendor and the people that lined up towards him. All of them seemed to be exchanging money for what seemed to be a long meat tube laid upon a bed of leaves and bread. Her own pockets were, of course, empty. Feeling slightly disappointed she turned to Sienna.

"Then, are you exploring as well?"

"You could say that. I used to be prohibited from unplanned excursions." Siena responded with a faint smile. It was a partial lie--not being allowed out alone was certainly one of the reasons why she had taken to leaving her dorm for as long as possible, but it hadn't been why she'd gone off campus. Her eyes fell on the hotdog vendor and--wait, was Hazel hungry? And...was this man selling hot dogs out of a thermal box? No, no, maybe that was a question she didn't want answered.

...or maybe it was.

"Did you...did you want one?" Siena asked, motioning at the hot dog vendor. Thankfully, Siena had remembered, for once in her life, to bring her actual wallet, a handful of petty cash crammed into it from when she'd last withdrawn petty cash from the government account printed on the back of her ID. "I have some cash on hand, and they seem popular enough."

"Prohibited from unplanned excursions? Then, did you also come from one of the Plants? I have not met anyone else that comes from a Plant."

Hazel started nodding to herself, looking lost in her own thoughts. It seemed rather fortuitous that they have met. Perhaps if she had known about this earlier, there might have been more improvements in the recent missions. Or perhaps there might not. Hazel would have asked about what her abilities were, had it not for Sienna's offer.

"Yes." The answer was immediate, with no thoughts given to niceties or the usual manners some might normally expect. Staring at the size of the food, Hazel briefly stopped, an intense look upon her face as she thought more about it. "Two... no, three, should be sufficient."

A Plant? Red flags raised in the back of Siena's mind at the statement, and though she hid her concern well enough, the brunette couldn't help but feel a sense of unease. The way Hazel used the word implied...a factory? And someone else that came from one--the conclusion wasn't entirely difficult to draw. Thankfully, the moment where the Aberration seemed to be thinking more deeply about something was enough for Siena to calm her rampant thoughts down, even if it was not enough time to try and placate the curiosity that threatened to burn through her.

At least, she thought, Hazel didn't put up any typical fuss over being paid for. The straightforwardness was refreshing--no ulterior motives, it seemed. Just a simple fact--Hazel wanted hotdogs. Apparently badly, given the expression she'd worn prior to giving a number. Holding back a chuckle by the barest fraction, Siena gave a nod of approval.

"Three it is."

There were, of course, the usual side-eyes through the purchasing process, but it hadn't been as issue-laden as Siena had come to expect. At the very least, she wasn't being outright refused service because of a mark on her face--she highly suspected it was because of the cuff.

"Condiments 're over there." A finger jerked to an array of packets and bottles precariously lined up on one side of the vendor's cart.

Hazel was just about to bite into one before the man mentioned the condiments. What were condiments? Was it something she should know about? Would eating the hotdog without one be a punishable act? With how the tip was shaped, it looked as if you were supposed to drink from it, but if so, there would be more people actually doing it.

Feeling lost, she looked towards Sienna, seeking any sort of help from her.

Ah. That was an expression that Siena was famliar with. Fortunately, her first foray into the city had managed to net her at least some modicum of experience with the challenge of condiment bottles, courtesy of a handful of frustrated McDonald's patrons. Feeling, for once in her life, like the one that wasn't entirely lost, the brunette obliged the silent request for aid.

"They're kind of like sauces to enhance flavor, I guess? You can put them on your hotdogs." That was the best method of explanation that Siena could offer. "Here, I can show you." Taking a napkin from its place and supporting it with a few fingers, Siena pressed down on the mustard pump just hard enough to slowly release a yellow glob before offering it up as a visual representation.

"You can put it directly on your food if you know which ones you like."

Having no idea what she liked, Hazel simply chose the brightest colors, the yellow and the red, slathering them onto one of the hotdogs with abandon. Her face scrunched up into a strange expression as she took an overly large bite from them, puffing out her cheeks as she tried to chew it all. Seeing as Sienna wasn't ordering any for herself, Hazel took one, treated it the same way, and handed the sloppy yellow and red colored food towards her.

"Here." came her muffled words as she tried to speak with her mouth full.

Swallowing, her thoughts finally returned to Siena, and her mysterious powers.

"Sierra. What is your ability? Considering the last event, and taking into accounts what information I have gathered, you have lasted considerably longer than I had in the skirmish." She tried to eat what was left of her hotdog in one large bite, paying no attention to the sauce smears on her face. There was a slight flash of regret as Hazel looked at the last hotdog, as she set to eating it in smaller bites.

Uttering a word of thanks in spite of the moderate confusion, Siena gingerly held the condiment-laden hotdog in her hand, acutely aware that a single wrong movement could send colorful splatters of bright red and yellow on her decidedly not red and yellow clothing. She was unwilling to seem ungrateful for the gesture, so the brunette tried her best to eat without incident--it was harder than it looked, even with the napkins on hand. She'd managed a very cautious, very small bite by the time Hazel had spoken to her again.

Sierra? That was closer than Rina, she supposed. The girl steeled her nerves--talking about her power still wasn't comfortable, but she was starting to come to terms with the fact that it was an inevitable step. Slowly.

"I can copy the abilities of people in writing within a few...specific limitations." There, step one. A vastly simplified version of what she could do, but her capability to do something had so far been limited by her willingness to do it. To an extent. She mulled on it while offering Hazel one of the numerous napkins on hand for the ketchup and mustard smears. "I wouldn't consider myself as 'lasting longer' so much as being relegated to support though. The chance of being incapacitated isn't very high when you don't see direct combat."

"I see. That certainly sounds strong." Hazel continued eating. "Then, could you not have taken my abilities should they give you my files?"

She took the napkin, using it to wrap around the hotdog for a better grip. There was art in eating these it seems. The delicious meaty center was bound to jump out of its bed of bread and leaves, should she bite into it haphazardly. Perhaps it was one of these people's daily trainings. But there was something that nagged her mind. Not about the hotdog, but about Sienna. There was an odd shadow on her expression when she started talking about her abilities. While she wasn't really good at reading expressions or reading people in general, that one was one she recognized, or at least, felt she recognized. It seemed like... fear? Emma seemed to have shadows of that before as well.

"Was there something wrong with your ability?"

"In theory, I suppose. Using pure data has had inconsistent results." It was hard to admit, but unbiased data meant no emotional feedback, and it was hard to try and connect with someone in writing when they were little more than a few summarized notes on a page. Siena had never had the variable of knowing a name that she wanted to pull from before, but there was no doubt "The limitations don't have specific ways to be quantified, frustrating as it may be."

The Arbiter watched Hazel use the napkin for a purpose that was entirely not what it had been intended for. Maybe she should have mentioned it was for wiping off the condiment smudges, but that could always wa--ah. Something must have shown on her face for that question. She felt herself falter for a moment, but...

"No, nothing's wrong with the ability. It's always done the job I asked of it." An apologetic smile flashed across Siena's features for a moment. "I guess that means something's wrong with me though? That sounds more appropriate."

"Something wrong with you?" Hazel stopped eating at that, looking at Sienna inquisitively, then at the hotdog man who was leaning discretely in, trying to listen to their conversation. Realizing she wasn't moving, and therefore wasting time she could use to move to a more interesting location, she started to walk slowly on the path, assuming Sienna would follow her.

"Is it problems in using your abilities? Do you not know how to use it well?" Chomping down on the hotdog, she recalled the dark look that flitted past Sienna's expression. "Are you afraid?"

It didn't take thought for Siena to move after Hazel, her pace matching as she thought over the questions. The last one was the one that struck. Was she afraid?

She thought of losing control. Of when she'd looked at Angel their first time in Ground Zero, a vast pool of raw power at her disposal, and thought it would be interesting to have a screaming, undead soldier. Of the fact that she'd watched her hand move to do it before realizing it she was no longer the one in control. Of the monstrous arm that she'd had no concept of controlling in the estate and what might have happened if she'd picked something more dangerous. There were plenty of reasons to be afraid.

"I should be," Siena admitted, after giving herself time to think. "But I'm not sure if I am now, and that could make my abilities more dangerous than useful."

"Dangerous?" Finishing up the last of the hotdog, Hazel started licking her fingers. "I do not understand. I do not fear my ability."

Realizing she has stains on her face, she started wiping at it with her sleeves, before crumpling the wrapper and napkins into a ball. Throwing it into the air, she projected her hand into a slightly larger version, catching the ball and disintergrating it in midair. Those few civilians who saw her did get a shock, but considering what she did, it earned her nothing more than a sideeye glance or a wide eyed stare.

"It is dangerous only because I want it to be."

Watching the wadded ball of waste disintegrate sent a chilling sensation down Siena's spine--she hadn't forgotten about that, but the girl didn't allow the unease to show beyond a few quiet, uneven breaths. The unease over the demonstration had managed to override even her unease at the sudden looks that the unmarked passerby suddenly threw in their directions, but Siena persevered in controlling what she allowed to show. It was fine. It wasn't aimed at her.

Still, Siena felt an immediate need to subtly place her free hand over the location of her phone, just to ensure that it was there.

"I'm...not always so fortunate." Even when she had no intention of being dangerous...guilt bubbled in the pit of her stomach again, powerful and overwhelming. Siena did her best not to let her discomfort get the best of her. This was a good step forward, wasn't it? "The easiest way to explain...hm...I suppose it's a matter of control." No, it wasn't just a matter of control, but how did she explain it otherwise? "Every time I use it, the danger is there. Sometimes the lack of control isn't clear until it is too late."

Hazel seemed to ponder that for a moment, before nodding, having seemingly reached upon a conclusion.

"I understand. You lack control because you did not train to control it."

It was something that was foreign to Hazel, the mere concept of lacking control over her own abilities. As such, the only clear conclusion she could reach was that Sienna had never tried to control it, or had trained extensively to improve her control over it. Flashes of the doctor in the Plant came unbidden, his smilling face reassuring her to do her best.

Or else.

All of a sudden the guilt in her stomach came back; guilt over not following the strict regime she was usually expected to follow; guilt over her walking around instead of keeping herself in optimal conditions for the inevitable next sortie.

Training to control it...if it had been so easy, she would have had pristine control over every name at her disposal. Her stomach twisted faintly trying to reason it out. Exposure to her ability had done little to aid, and she knew, of course, that she could sacrifice time for stability, but...

...but what? Couldn't she just get better at doing what had to be done in a shorter amount of time? Choose efficiency if it meant that control was no longer a concern?

But you're a coward, right?

Siena didn't express the thought, allowing Hazel to draw her own conclusions, eyes trailing from focusing on nothing in particular to focusing on the girl in question. She didn't know what she had expected to see, but it wasn't what she took in.

"Are you alright?" Voice laden in concern. "Is something wrong?"

Hazel jerked at that, realizing she had stopped walking, and probably wearing a strange look on her face.

"I am alright. I..." she cocked her head, brow slightly furrowed in confusion. "...remembered Dr. Willis?"

Remembered wasn't quite the right word, but she could find no other word to describe what she had felt. What was she doing here? Hazel needed to get better; that last encounter would have earned his ire thats for sure, and displease them should they know about it. A laughably poor performance reserved only for incompetent people.

Unfortunately, her train of thought was completely derailed before she could say anything more about the Plant to Sienna, wide eyes focusing squarely upon the black and white man with black and white paint on his face. She did not know why but it made her skin crawl at the sight of him. Was it a mage of some sort? It was playing around with its abilities, making invisible objects at will. No, she had no desire to fight that thing, or even to go near it.

So why was it that her leg wasn't working?

Who's Dr. Willis? Siena didn't voice the thought, but it seemed that the good doctor was someone that brought Hazel concern. The brunette would have asked for more, if not for the fact that Hazel suddenly seemed to have her focus acutely torn from her. Unable to deny her own curiosity, Siena turned abruptly to try and see what had so easily pulled the Aberration's attention.

Ah, the thought came.

"Ah." The word chimed.

A moment passed, Siena staring and gaining no answers.

"I don't think I understand."

It seemed their staring brought the attention of the painted man, as he made use of imaginary binoculars to direct his attention to them. Despite the comically overexaggerated movements, Siena felt her hair stand on end, her feet taking her half a step back, the expression on her face becoming a strained fascimile of a smile.

"I don't understand."

Having noticed them looking at him, he started to pull upon an invisible rope, slowly but surely dragging himself over to them. With every pull, with every feet nearer he comes, her chest seemingly developing a painful knot that grew tighter and tighter. It was some sorcery beyond her knowledge, her mind felt like it was running all over itself trying to figure out what was happening.

"Serena, what is that?"

The man stopped suddenly, as if hitting a brick wall. In fact, he held up his hands and seemed to press into thin air, knocking on the invisible barrier that held him. Hands shaking, she held them up, trying to feel the invisible wall. Instead, the man toppled over, with the wall having apparently toppled over when she tried to touch them.

Wh-what was happening? Siena wished she had an answer for Hazel, her eyes following the monochrome misfit as he tumbled to the ground, seeming flattened by his own creation...but there hadn't been any sound to accompany the supposed weight. It was almost as if the anomaly's own weight had made minimal sound. Still, Siena's nerves were waiting and at the ready.

"I-I'm...not sure."

Cautiously, Siena took a hesitant step forward, one hand on her phone in case it became a necessity, one hand outstretched to the toppled man to offer aid as an apology apparently knocking a wall over on him.

"Er...do you need help...?"

He pat the wall a few times, as though struggling beneath its weight, and did not take Siena's hand. Assuming the worst, Siena knelt to try and lift whatever had fallen--except there was nothing there. Hands felt nothing but empty air, no invisible constructs, nothing. Helpless in her endeavor, the brunette glanced at Hazel, expression alight with both confusion and distress.

"I-I don't underst--! Geh!" The word was cut off as the man suddeny sprang to his feet, as though her attempts had managed to free him. Unfortunately, that sent Siena sprawling back, her feet reeling back and her heart thundering as she reached for her phone, the screen flashing to life as though the brunette was preparing for the worst.

NoNo.No.

The same words repeated itself over and over in Hazel's head, as she suddenly had a rather serene look upon her face. Without a word more, she sprinted full speed away, leaving Sienna to deal with the nightmarish mage. There were things she could fight, but this thing was not one she wanted to tangle with. Not when there was no telling what it can do, or what horrible powers it hid behind that eerily silent painted face.

Celestial Bonds

Liv

_{Edited Images - original art by Pixiv ID 196317 and Millgua}

Most people would never believe for an instant that Liv is a threatening individual based on looks alone. By all appearances, she’s an underfed, frail looking street rat, and the fact that she’s alive is by the grace of some higher power. Certainly, the thief is just a fraction too thin, her naturally pale skin contrasted too deeply by the rich, dark tresses of raven hair, hazel eyes sometimes paling in the sunlight to such a faded color that they might be grey. Her features are equally delicate, much to her chagrin, marred more often by dirt than by injuries. The frailness of her frame is a deception given away by the ferocious hunger in her gaze, always seeking more, always seeking something, even if it may cost someone else everything.

Alas, for someone that steals for a living, Liv’s clothing is always a little lacking. While she has a certain preference for simple clothing that doesn’t hamper her mobility, she’ll wear whatever she can get. The folds always hang just a fraction too baggy, and nothing ever seems to quite fit her. Most of her wardrobe is also decidedly ratty, dirt stained at best, torn and fraying at worst, but Liv couldn’t care less. So long as she can move freely in it, she will wear it.

The most striking feature that Liv possesses, however, is the shock of white hair, a pristine streak amid strands the color of the night sky. The imperfection is caused by piebaldism, a condition which is also the cause of a triangular patch of white skin on her forehead (she does her best to cover this with her bangs at all times) as well as two symmetrical patches on her ankles, and a small spattering of white blotches like stars across the small of her back. Though these imperfections are difficult to see without close examination thanks to Liv’s already pale flesh, the girl covers them as best she can with clothing whenever possible.

Liv’s earliest memories are of the streets. Born to no-name peasants and raised by scum even lower than that, the girl never really knew a different way of life. A street rat, a nuisance, and a threat—that was all she’d ever really known herself to be. She’d never been lonely—at first, the younger street rats banded together in the face of adversity—but she’d always been wary where survival had to come before anything else.

Cecily dove into the alley, her slender body fitting into a small gap without issue as she heard Richard being dragged out into the open.

In terms of a street rat’s life, Liv never considered her life to be extraordinary. She followed people that helped her survive, adopted whatever names they decided to give her as a temporary identity, then abandoned them when she either outgrew or outlived them. She never considered the idea of rising to a standing above that, and to a certain extent, the girl was content with where she was. Living was hard, but it provided her something to do. Steal this, pilfer that, provide for whoever decided that she was worth keeping around as company, treat everyone as though they might discard her like garbage because she knew they would.

Beatrice curled her fingers around her dagger, her breath coming to a stop before she stepped out from the shadows. Henry didn’t hear the younger thief’s footsteps as she approached, didn’t see the flash of a rusty blade until after she had moved it across his throat.

With each successful act of thievery, Liv grew more daring with her actions. Commoners and merchants aside, the girl started finding her hands lifting coins from men and women dressed in finer clothing, looking for items that no peasant would be able to afford. The payoff was astoundingly higher and the challenge greater. What first started as an act of necessity soon became a twisted method of entertainment, and it went well…until she met Vitus, that was. It was supposed to be an easy mark, a quick little nip and lift, but somehow, things had gone awry.

It was more out of petty vengeance than anything else that Liv decided to begin pilfering everything in Vitus’s home. Cutlery, bowls, food—anything that she could get her hands on, really, and she received something that other marks simply didn’t give her. Adversary. A challenge. Every time her deft little fingers managed to make off with something, a new trap was added, a new security measure was set into place, and it was exhilarating. The girl quickly made Vitus’s estate her new “home” of sorts, leaving only to steal what was necessary for living, warding off other thieves when they dared to approach. Vitus soon became the longest lasting relationship Liv had ever had with another human being. The threat of imminent death or being hauled off by guards didn’t exist, she didn’t feel a nagging reminder at every turn that she might outlive or outgrow the noble, and it was...different from her other partnerships. She found herself growing fond of her challenger, settling into the identity that she’d given Vitus.

She hasn’t had to abandon it yet, and she’s content with that.

Given Liv’s background, the girl’s personality is almost predictable. A little crude, rather vulgar, and filled with a dastardly fire that keeps her alive, Liv certainly comes off like the urchin she is. Though she keeps herself out of the way out of habit and will frequently observe a target for extended periods of time, Liv’s personality keeps her in constant motion, keeps her always doing something to keep survival on the mind. Some call her restless, but she likes to consider it as “wary”.

Naturally, there are a few things that come with the territory of being a thief, and a few things more when stealing happens to be a cornerstone of one’s being. Greed, for one thing, is something that most people would call Liv’s vice, and they wouldn’t be entirely wrong. She’s always seeking something new to add to her collection, and it doesn’t have to be a physical thing. Knowledge, information, treasures of anything that she can lay her fingers on, Liv desires to some degree. Just about the only thing she doesn’t thirst for is status, and even that is because she understands the loss of freedom. Of course, the price of being content with her greed is the fact that Liv is territorial to a fault. If she views something as hers, there is very little that she won’t do to keep it that way. Her territory, her people, her things. Hers, hers, hers, and nobody is to touch it.

It goes without saying that Liv’s lifestyle has also left her with a crippled conscience. That isn’t to say that she is entirely devoid of the concepts of remorse or guilt, but with so few people to tell her right from wrong, the thief has never had to consider the ethics of her actions. That said, she doesn’t find issue in taking actions that others might find morally questionable for her own benefit. After all, as a street rat, it’s a dog eat dog world.

Somewhere between rivalry, friendship, and fondness. It’s hard to classify. All she knows is that Vitus is her mark.

Vitus Ayolous

Liv fights exactly as one would expect a thief to fight—dirty and rough. She utilizes ambushes and unpredictable, if a little dishonorable, tactics when forced into combat. The girl isn’t stupid enough to think that her slight frame can overpower many, so she relies primarily on resourcefulness and cunning paired with an undeniable instinct to survive. Ambushes, sneak attacks, the manipulation of any damn weakness that Liv can find? All fair in her book—there’s no such thing as a dirty fight. While she lacks any significant experience against trained soldiers, she’s spent most of her life evading watchmen and guards when possible and incapacitating them when not.

1 misericord (stolen from Vitus), 2 rondel daggers (stolen from Vitus's guards), 1 fork and spoon (stolen from Vitus), 1 fancy bowl (stolen from Vitus), and Avarice, the dagger-type celestial gear (not stolen from Vitus).

"By chance, does any of that not belong to me?"

Liv is small, underfed, and nowhere near strong enough to overpower a typical opponent in a head on battle. She also lacks much true combat training and is quick to give into urges to enact petty vengeance. No, it doesn’t matter which side the target is on. Liv’s tendency to view other people as enemies also tends to put a hamper in the entire concept of teamwork or communication.

Allows the wielder to take and remove items from shadows cast by the wielder. Living things cannot be pulled into the area of effect and items must be able to fit within the cast shadow to be pulled in or taken out. If the shadow is somehow removed while an object is being put in or taken out, the object breaks. Melding the wielder’s shadow to another cast shadow does not increase the area of the wielder's shadow. The pocket currently has a volume limitation of approximately one wardrobe.

Fruit, horses, dogs, mint, and colorful objects.

Other thieves, snails, people touching her things, that one particular servant at Vitus's place...

Stealing, hiding, stabbing people, humming when she thinks nobody's around.

波斯貓 - S.H.E.

★❜ Liv is somewhat literate. While not as capable as any noble, Vitus's meddling has managed to let her start to piece together the basics of reading. She generally lacks the patience to do it because it takes her quite some time to slowly cobble together even the simple notes Vitus used to leave her. She isn't able to write.
★❜ Liv does not have a full name and has a habit of abandoning names given to her by people she's moved on from--she doesn't remember all of them. Liv just happens to be the latest and longest lasting of the bunch.
★❜ Apples are her favorite food.
★❜ Has exceptional musical sense and perfect pitch
★❜ She's very, veeeery flexible.

Celestial Bonds

Dying and dead

Liv

_{Edited Images - original art by Pixiv ID 196317 and Millgua}

Most people would never believe for an instant that Liv is a threatening individual based on looks alone. By all appearances, she’s an underfed, frail looking street rat, and the fact that she’s alive is by the grace of some higher power. Certainly, the thief is just a fraction too thin, her naturally pale skin contrasted too deeply by the rich, dark tresses of raven hair, hazel eyes sometimes paling in the sunlight to such a faded color that they might be grey. Her features are equally delicate, much to her chagrin, marred more often by dirt than by injuries. The frailness of her frame is a deception given away by the ferocious hunger in her gaze, always seeking more, always seeking something, even if it may cost someone else everything.

Alas, for someone that steals for a living, Liv’s clothing is always a little lacking. While she has a certain preference for simple clothing that doesn’t hamper her mobility, she’ll wear whatever she can get. The folds always hang just a fraction too baggy, and nothing ever seems to quite fit her. Most of her wardrobe is also decidedly ratty, dirt stained at best, torn and fraying at worst, but Liv couldn’t care less. So long as she can move freely in it, she will wear it.

The most striking feature that Liv possesses, however, is the shock of white hair, a pristine streak amid strands the color of the night sky. The imperfection is caused by piebaldism, a condition which is also the cause of a triangular patch of white skin on her forehead (she does her best to cover this with her bangs at all times) as well as two symmetrical patches on her ankles, and a small spattering of white blotches like stars across the small of her back. Though these imperfections are difficult to see without close examination thanks to Liv’s already pale flesh, the girl covers them as best she can with clothing whenever possible.

Liv’s earliest memories are of the streets. Born to no-name peasants and raised by scum even lower than that, the girl never really knew a different way of life. A street rat, a nuisance, and a threat—that was all she’d ever really known herself to be. She’d never been lonely—at first, the younger street rats banded together in the face of adversity—but she’d always been wary where survival had to come before anything else.

Cecily dove into the alley, her slender body fitting into a small gap without issue as she heard Richard being dragged out into the open.

In terms of a street rat’s life, Liv never considered her life to be extraordinary. She followed people that helped her survive, adopted whatever names they decided to give her as a temporary identity, then abandoned them when she either outgrew or outlived them. She never considered the idea of rising to a standing above that, and to a certain extent, the girl was content with where she was. Living was hard, but it provided her something to do. Steal this, pilfer that, provide for whoever decided that she was worth keeping around as company, treat everyone as though they might discard her like garbage because she knew they would.

Beatrice curled her fingers around her dagger, her breath coming to a stop before she stepped out from the shadows. Henry didn’t hear the younger thief’s footsteps as she approached, didn’t see the flash of a rusty blade until after she had moved it across his throat.

With each successful act of thievery, Liv grew more daring with her actions. Commoners and merchants aside, the girl started finding her hands lifting coins from men and women dressed in finer clothing, looking for items that no peasant would be able to afford. The payoff was astoundingly higher and the challenge greater. What first started as an act of necessity soon became a twisted method of entertainment, and it went well…until she met Vitus, that was. It was supposed to be an easy mark, a quick little nip and lift, but somehow, things had gone awry.

It was more out of petty vengeance than anything else that Liv decided to begin pilfering everything in Vitus’s home. Cutlery, bowls, food—anything that she could get her hands on, really, and she received something that other marks simply didn’t give her. Adversary. A challenge. Every time her deft little fingers managed to make off with something, a new trap was added, a new security measure was set into place, and it was exhilarating. The girl quickly made Vitus’s estate her new “home” of sorts, leaving only to steal what was necessary for living, warding off other thieves when they dared to approach. Vitus soon became the longest lasting relationship Liv had ever had with another human being. The threat of imminent death or being hauled off by guards didn’t exist, she didn’t feel a nagging reminder at every turn that she might outlive or outgrow the noble, and it was...different from her other partnerships. She found herself growing fond of her challenger, settling into the identity that she’d given Vitus.

She hasn’t had to abandon it yet, and she’s content with that.

Given Liv’s background, the girl’s personality is almost predictable. A little crude, rather vulgar, and filled with a dastardly fire that keeps her alive, Liv certainly comes off like the urchin she is. Though she keeps herself out of the way out of habit and will frequently observe a target for extended periods of time, Liv’s personality keeps her in constant motion, keeps her always doing something to keep survival on the mind. Some call her restless, but she likes to consider it as “wary”.

Naturally, there are a few things that come with the territory of being a thief, and a few things more when stealing happens to be a cornerstone of one’s being. Greed, for one thing, is something that most people would call Liv’s vice, and they wouldn’t be entirely wrong. She’s always seeking something new to add to her collection, and it doesn’t have to be a physical thing. Knowledge, information, treasures of anything that she can lay her fingers on, Liv desires to some degree. Just about the only thing she doesn’t thirst for is status, and even that is because she understands the loss of freedom. Of course, the price of being content with her greed is the fact that Liv is territorial to a fault. If she views something as hers, there is very little that she won’t do to keep it that way. Her territory, her people, her things. Hers, hers, hers, and nobody is to touch it.

It goes without saying that Liv’s lifestyle has also left her with a crippled conscience. That isn’t to say that she is entirely devoid of the concepts of remorse or guilt, but with so few people to tell her right from wrong, the thief has never had to consider the ethics of her actions. That said, she doesn’t find issue in taking actions that others might find morally questionable for her own benefit. After all, as a street rat, it’s a dog eat dog world.

Somewhere between rivalry, friendship, and fondness. It’s hard to classify. All she knows is that Vitus is her mark.

Vitus Ayolous

Liv fights exactly as one would expect a thief to fight—dirty and rough. She utilizes ambushes and unpredictable, if a little dishonorable, tactics when forced into combat. The girl isn’t stupid enough to think that her slight frame can overpower many, so she relies primarily on resourcefulness and cunning paired with an undeniable instinct to survive. Ambushes, sneak attacks, the manipulation of any damn weakness that Liv can find? All fair in her book—there’s no such thing as a dirty fight. While she lacks any significant experience against trained soldiers, she’s spent most of her life evading watchmen and guards when possible and incapacitating them when not.

1 misericord (stolen from Vitus), 2 rondel daggers (stolen from Vitus's guards), 1 fork and spoon (stolen from Vitus), 1 fancy bowl (stolen from Vitus), and Avarice, the dagger-type celestial gear (not stolen from Vitus).

"By chance, does any of that not belong to me?"

Liv is small, underfed, and nowhere near strong enough to overpower a typical opponent in a head on battle. She also lacks much true combat training and is quick to give into urges to enact petty vengeance. No, it doesn’t matter which side the target is on. Liv’s tendency to view other people as enemies also tends to put a hamper in the entire concept of teamwork or communication.

Allows the wielder to take and remove items from shadows cast by the wielder. Living things cannot be pulled into the area of effect and items must be able to fit within the cast shadow to be pulled in or taken out. If the shadow is somehow removed while an object is being put in or taken out, the object breaks. Melding the wielder’s shadow to another cast shadow does not increase the area of the wielder's shadow. The pocket currently has a volume limitation of approximately one wardrobe.

Fruit, horses, dogs, mint, and colorful objects.

Other thieves, snails, people touching her things, that one particular servant at Vitus's place...

Stealing, hiding, stabbing people, humming when she thinks nobody's around.

波斯貓 - S.H.E.

★❜ Liv is somewhat literate. While not as capable as any noble, Vitus's meddling has managed to let her start to piece together the basics of reading. She generally lacks the patience to do it because it takes her quite some time to slowly cobble together even the simple notes Vitus used to leave her. She isn't able to write.
★❜ Liv does not have a full name and has a habit of abandoning names given to her by people she's moved on from--she doesn't remember all of them. Liv just happens to be the latest and longest lasting of the bunch.
★❜ Apples are her favorite food.
★❜ Has exceptional musical sense and perfect pitch
★❜ She's very, veeeery flexible.

—(••[ 𝕎𝕀𝕊ℍ𝔼𝔸𝕋𝔼ℝ ]••)—

Only 90%? We're getting soft.

EDIT: As long as I'm posting in the OOC anyways
MARCUS, YOU FUCKING THREW THE DOG OMG.

—(••[ 𝕎𝕀𝕊ℍ𝔼𝔸𝕋𝔼ℝ ]••)—

I Shall Scream

Chris | Siena

---

𝕎𝕖𝕕: 𝕆𝕔𝕥. 𝟟, 𝟚𝟘𝟚𝟘 / / 𝔹𝕒𝕝𝕕 ℍ𝕖𝕒𝕕 𝕀𝕤𝕝𝕒𝕟𝕕 / / ~𝟘𝟝𝟛𝟝

---

_{Collab with...@dragonmancer}

Everything was wrong as she dove into the link. Something felt wrong. The sensation wasn't the same as the attempt in Ground Zero--a matter of distance? No...they had managed it fine in the training session, and she'd been working with something weaker than what she was utilizing at that moment. No, this was the result of something that she was more familiar with than the physical limitations of abilities that didn't even belong to her...right? It felt different. Wrong--or perhaps it was from her own state. Muted emotions. Everything quieted down by willpower or by influence. She didn't know. All the girl knew was that she had to make him listen if she could.

Physically, Siena took another breath.

'Chris? Chris, can you hear me?'

The sudden and familiar voice of Siena had caused the rampaging arbiter to temporarily cease in his tracks just as he was about to leave the lighthouse area. Anger had caused him to forget of Siena's ability, and her intrusion into his conscience didn't help his ire. Though briefly confused, Chris responded to his fellow arbiter, not hidng an ounce of his current rage.

'Unless if you're hurt don't get in my damn way, I'm going to kill these bastards.'

The primordial rage fueled by both grief and physical pain boiled from his telepathic voice like molten rock rising from the earth's crust. The opportunity had caused the dragon to look and further exam his surroundings, despite being nearly lost in anger, his concern for Siena forced him to stay put until she confirmed her safety.

Hot. No, searing. Without her own emotions on the front lines to defend against it, the feral fury was easier to identify, but harder to keep from being swept up in. It wasn't surprising, but it had been...unexpected. Knowing that it was beneath the surface didn't make confronting it an easy task, after all.

Another physical breath.

'Most of us are in acceptable condition.' The words sounded wrong. Another side effect of Victor's influence, she supposed. Drove the division too far, she thought. Was she that averse to the concept? No. That wasn't it. It was just...necessary. 'But the others outside with you are not.'

A pause. Something still felt wrong.

'...you also don't seem to be in good shape.'

'If you're in good shape regroup with the others and get healers to the people who need it.' A sliver of reasoning beneath his anger, the heat of it briefly simmering down before slowly rising back to it's explosive force.

He had ceased to respond regarding to her statement of his condition, his goal of utter destruction was back into focus. Chris once again darted off into a sprint towards the manor. His anger had blinded him so that he even forgot Siena was still linked to his thoughts.

'Someone will pay for this. I'll let those damned criminals know...no, the whole world must know what happens when they take whats mine. The people I come to appreciate, I will not let the universe take such treasures from me anymore in silence! I will show them terror!' The lines that recited through his head didn't seem human at all, echoing with a booming dominance like that of a true monster.

"...hm. Not that I don't understand, but..." Physical words for her to register in her own ears instead of in her head as Siena listened, let the anger fill and fuel for a moment before pulling herself the equivalent of a mental step away from the surge. Familiar. Consuming. Things that she had felt, things that she hadn't--it didn't really matter at that moment. All that mattered was that she could recall, could still probably perfectly imitate it.

Who deserves to pay?

She thought, briefly, of what they had seen. Of crashing through a roof before they had even really landed. Of a dislocated shoulder and a twisted ankle that had throbbed and hurt, but meant nothing at the prospect of another broken body. Gold eyes, lifeless stare.

'For what little this is worth, I am sorry for this.' And Siena closed the link, thought again, for an instant, that every part of her would never have agreed to the course of action set before her by the imperfect imposter that took her place. Victor's influence separated her from the guilt, but couldn't completely stifle it.

Another breath, this one marked with an uneven shudder as Siena drowned herself in the experience of the worst terror she'd ever felt. Steeped in it for an instant longer, let it well up against the mental wall...and then she closed the gap as she returned the connection, this time coupled with a spike of fear in its most primal sense. A carefully crafted imitation of too many experiences that stopped the heart and made the blood freeze in place. How many names had done the same to her?

Too many to count.

What did she mean she was sorry? Was she going to kill him? There was a brief moment of confliction by that very statement, part of him wondering why while other parts wanted to retaliate. What she meant, however, became quickly apparent when her consciousness returned with a full force of fear. Instinct quickly came over reason, the powerful and sudden shock of fear prevented him from any chance of rationality. His state of berserking was fueled by anger, but now it was out of fear; Both fuels had blinded him but the fear itself had made him lose his goals.

Confusion mingled with hopeless fear, like he was being confronted with some incomprehensible monster standing right before him. His instincts spoke for him, self preservation tried to take the wheel over his increasing madness.

Outside of his conscience, the dragon form was going rabid. Terrified roars and screeches screamed from his mouth as he began to blindly destroy his surroundings as if it could spare him from the chaos. A wild tail knocked over a tree while a breathe of flames scorched the forest at his rear. The illusion that the fear itself was manifestating around him placed his enviorment in a position of danger.

Like a cornered animal unable to run Chris continued to strike at a force that wasn't even there. His aggression only taken upon the trees and wildlife that were unfortunate enough to be near him. Coupled with his injuries the exertion made him exhausted, and his stamina depleted he only became more and more desperate.

The response was immediate. More than Siena had expected, but it seemed to shut down the anger easily enough. Another pang of guilt resonated, this time unfettered by a severed connection, but the brunette didn't have time to embrace it. Memories of careful, gentle words played in the back of the girl's head. Maya's words, no doubt.

Use the opening.

She pushed further into the connection, reminded herself that the fear she felt was only as real as she allowed it to be as she kept pushing, melded herself more seamlessly. At its peak, the connection should have been flawless. But she wasn't looking for perfection, only improvement. The Arbiter released a breath that she hadn't realized she was holding, felt her heart start to slow as one by one, she replaced the gaps. A distinct division between herself and what made her almost human, pulling the fear away, replacing it with...not serenity. Siena couldn't describe it as peace, only calm. An empty calm, not as powerful as the fear, but warmer, at least.

And she waited. One moment. Two. One more.

'Head clearer now?' The thought came, a cautious testing of the waters. Again, she felt guilt try to build, but Siena did her best to push it aside. She would have time to regret it later. Time was ticking, and she knew that what she'd sacrificed for control was quickly starting to become more precious with each passing second.

As the sense of fear easily settled down Chris's rampage drained with it. The adrenaline that had helped cope with the pain and course his rage was gone, and all that was left was an exhaustedand wounded arbiter. '"I....I...'His voice struggled as if his own brain was trying to catch a breathe. Had there be any energy left in him he would have been far more furious with what she had did to him.

'You're damned lucky I care about you.' He hissed as if his own affection was a curse. There was still hints of anger and grief over Angelique's fate, but now it had been leveled away from primordial rage.

'Why the hell did you do that...' The exhaustion in his tone was clearer then his anger.

Calm. Siena had never really been very fond of that particular emotion because it had never really felt like it belonged to her, but at that moment, it was what she had been hoping for. The brunette felt her breathing regulate physically, brought another layer of level-headedness as the last vestiges of artifical terror slipped from her fingertips.

Only to return in small palpitations when the girl realized the price of forcing the connection as far as she had gone.

'I'm aware that it's lucky.' A faint whisper that she couldn't silence behind the words. Very lucky, for those purposes. 'It was the fastest way to calm you down.' Another string of quiet thoughts that tried to mask the real words.

Of every emotion she'd ever experienced, fear was the only one that could cut through anger.

Not the real thought.

Because you would have gone, and you would have died.

Siena took a moment to try and push back to the original distance, a surge of discomfort pushing past the blanket of calm as she did so. She had never liked having her thoughts on display.

'...and again, for what it's worth. I am sorry.'

Confliction once again. There was still a nagging voice of instinct behind him that wanted him to return to that state, despite how that was impossible now; With Siena there he was able to ignore it. More so a faint whisper made him feel..welcomed? Or was it something else, her whispers were hard to determine and it was clear these personal emotions of hers wanted to remain hidden. He didn't press the thought on those further for her sake of privacy.

'No, I should be apologizing for making you worry I suppose. You did what you had to do..I got reckless again...' With no adrenaline to mask his pain the stinging wounds of his wing-stubs had slowly returned. In addition to his drained stamina, the pain of severed limbs now coursed in his body.

Around Chris was the debris of cremated trees and scorched earth, and lying in the center was his broken body. Seeing his own destructive results in his current mental state only increased his regret of letting himself lose control again.

'I'm glad you're OK, I'm sorry I didn't force myself to make sure you and Brent would survive back there.' While Chris didn't bother hiding his feelings or thoughts, he did make sure to not focus too much on her own aside from those that she made clear; Regardless if it made a difference, he wanted her to feel more comfortable and secure.

Recollections of events far too fresh came to mind at Chris's words. Memories of bone white agony, Brent lying broken on the floor. Phantom pains twinged to life, and Siena felt herself rub her shoulder instinctively, felt a muted elixer of emotions try to bubble to the surface. It was a poor imitation, at best. Frustration, fear, relief, desperation. She was supposed to protect him. That was the only reason she'd gone toward certain death.

The sudden leak was stopped as suddenly as it started, a reflexive action.

'We came back fine.' Not true, but Siena did her best to maintain the thought. 'I'm glad you were with the others to help them.'

Another thought of the journey back. She'd failed, hadn't done the one job she'd given herself properly, and had felt the same gnawing insecurities that had been so quick to cripple her. One job, because she didn't know how to--didn't know how to or was too afraid to figure out? She couldn't tell--do the one they'd agreed on. Help. Co-dependency. Something that she'd been stumbling through every step of the--

'I don't have much time left with this power. Just...promise you'll regroup with the others instead of rushing off, okay?' She tried, desperately, to overpower every other thought with the one she presented. Something close to warm concern seeped through. Close enough, at least. ''If we have to engage the ones at the mansion, it'd be safer not to do it alone.'

Her recollections with Brent sent Chris on edge. He was ok with her going on the mission since he knew she was capable but the thoughts that leaked out from her made Chris think that he took advantage of her conscience for getting her do go on such a dangerous mission. It didn't help that Chris's feelings towards Brent was already mixed, but now there was a small side of him that knew he hated him to an extent. That, however, will be an issue for a different day.

Fortunately that negativity was compensating with her concerns, a thought that made Chris feel appreciated. It reminded him of Angelique in a way.
'I promise I'll go regroup. I'll see you there."'

The injured dragon got up from the debris, and proceeded to walk back towards the lighthouse. Though calm, the pain was still intense, and there was no adrenaline or cold water to numb it.

'Just having you survive is the best reward I can get out of this day.'

'Doesn't count if you're not around for it.' Easy enough. Quick quips as she tried to keep her thoughts under control.

--way. She'd tried, hadn't she? In the library? But things had only broken down, her sanctuary coming apart. Books scattered, tables turned. A few bruises that she had healed off by the next day physically, but the lingering flickers of heat had remained, hadn't they? It felt like a sliver compared to what she'd just been witness to, but that fire had burned out everything in her for longer than the bruises had remained. Some help that was. All she'd managed then was getting punched. Multiple times. No good there either, if she--

'See you soon.'

The connection faded out as the name finally slipped through her fingers like fine sand.

Just before she slipped away Chris could feel something that had happened between her and Brent.

He gave her bruises, that bitch I'll kill him when we get out of this.

Anger for another day, Chris returned to the scene of the washed up lighthouse to regroup with the students. Blood had still been leaking from his stubs which now ran crimson lines flowing over his scales and dripping from his belly. This time there was no battle cry, screech, or roar. Chris just approached standing as tall as he could on four feet with a steady gaze.