Riven Wight

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One moment, Izzy was holding the donut, and the next the child had hurried just out of her reach with it in hand. She gripped her wrist and moved her fingers as if making sure they were all still there, watching the child ravenously wolf down the donut and wondering if he just had that extreme of a sweet tooth now, or needed more than her blood to sate his hunger.
Either way, he looked more like a caged creature than even a being as simple as a child. The hope that something of Cerasus still remained dwindled, Izzy incapable of imagining him ever acting like this over a donut. But at least the fried dough had made him move from his corner. Maybe there was some way she could use this.
She closed her eyes for a moment and snorted at the thought. She would not treat him like a disobedient pet in need of training. He had to be in there somewhere, suppressed by whatever power had put both of them in their current states. She opened her eyes again as the child reached for another.
“Okay,” she breathed. She reached behind her, glancing away only once as she gripped another. “Can... you even understand me?” she tried as she slowly handed him a second.

Melodramatic Deities and an Ageless Taste for Pizza

Sounds pretty good to me! Did you still want to go with Pahn creating them, or created by something/one else and assigned/bound to Pahn or something? If you’d be up for sharing your rough background, I’d love to know it!

As for Anora’s powers... She’s using them more in a base form, the manifestation of her powers/magic themselves in a purple mist with gold electricity. Since she has no training with her powers, that’s the only form she can use it as, but it has potential to be pretty powerful in that state alone. Though she hasn’t fully figured out what she can do, some of what I have in mind is its solidity can be changed (hardened like with her barriers), can be directed and formed into various shapes, and be used in offensive bursts. If she had thought about it and had the strength, she could have made her eagle more solid and combined it with the electric aspect, and potentially done some decent damage of her own. She could make it form into other animals as well. I was thinking that, with training, she could do other things beyond just the base form, and get pretty creative with it in its manifestation. However, I hate powers without side effects or other such limitations, so it’s kind of like a muscle. The more she uses it and pushes its limitations, the stronger it gets and the more she can do, but if she uses it too far beyond her current capabilities, it makes her weak and feel sick, even pass out in extreme cases. That all good with you?

Melodramatic Deities and an Ageless Taste for Pizza

Anora tried to think of which titan Themis was, but drew a blank. Her best friend, Anna, had an interest in Greek mythology, but Anora usually only payed partial attention at best on the few occasions where she talked about it.
“You’re what now?” She exaggerated a blink.
The more answers she got, the more questions she had. But that was the way life was, never answering something without giving you something new to ponder, dash it if it confused or irritated you to no end. Maybe even life got bored and needed something to keep it entertained.
Anora only stared at Pahn, her mouth slightly agape at the concept of “intergalactic trade routes.” She sat back in her seat, still staring at him as he consumed more of his current slice of pizza.
“So, a guy named Greed cheated you. You do see the irony in that, right?” She could not help but chuckle lightly through her nose. “So, what. Are you telling me you’re one of the Greek gods or something? Because I don’t remember there being one named Pahnjaka.” She took a deep breath, in through her nose and out through her mouth, and ran a hand through her hair.
Trade routes to other planets. Titans. The gods of Olympus. An unexplainable connection to it all. It was, if Anora was honest, a bit overwhelming, if not mindbogglingly fantastic.
“I swear,” she began with a disbelieving shake of her head, “if I wake up and find out that this is just another one of those freaky dreams, I’m going to go insane.”
She startled at the sound of the bell at the door, nearly knocking over what remained of her glass of water. She looked to the door, sparing the well-dressed man a quick glance when he sat down.
She gawked at the woman that entered. Everything from her ageless appearance to the way she held herself screamed some form of royalty and demanded respect. When she flicked a hand dismissively, Anora sunk further into her seat as everyone not endowed with green eyes stood and left as if in a trance, leaving behind partially emptied plates.
“Okay,” Anora said, her words drawn out. She glanced to Pahn for his reaction, but either he had the focus of a goldfish who just got fed, or he did not care. “That’s not normal.”
She held her breath when the woman’s attention turned toward her and Pahn’s table. She scooted a bit further away when she neared, hoping she was going for one of the tables beside them, but knowing better. The silence that had fallen in the room alone, broken only by the clack of the woman’s shoes, was unnerving.
Anora swallowed as the sinuous woman flirtatiously pulled an extra chair to their table. The chilliness in the woman’s voice made a shiver step down Anora’s spine. She looked from Pahn to their uninvited guest and back again, trying to decide what to think between Pahn’s lack of concern and the sense of foreboding that nagged at her.
Anora licked her lips when Pahn gestured for her to keep talking. “This… someone you know?”

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When the boy moved to her, giving her less trouble than usual, she moved so she sat cross-legged on the broken tiles, glad she had decided to come during the night instead. She blinked in surprise when the child at first seemed to be hugging her, the fleeting through that maybe, just maybe, he was coming around and showing gratitude flashing through her mind and easing the guilt that always greeted her at seeing what he had become.
But alas, the thought was broken with the wet sound the child made, and she realized what he was after before he all but climbed over her to get at her backpack. A look of confusion crossed her face, before she realized he had to be after the donuts inside.
“Okay, okay!” she muttered irritably, trying to pry the child from her. “Hold on. I’ll grab you one.” She released him and stood. Straightening the bottom of her shirt, she cast the boy a glance that told him to stay put, then zipped the pack open. “I didn’t take you as someone who gave human food a second thought.” Reaching inside, she pulled out the box of donuts, one missing from when she had had one on the way back from Tim Horton’s, and opened it.
Grabbing one, she turned to hand it to the child.

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Izzy watched him place the wadded gauze in his pocket, and leaned on her staff. She frowned at Trevor’s statement, but said nothing to it. Her brows furrowed when his answer to her question cut off, and she spun around to follow his gaze, wondering what had caught his attention.
Her eyes fell to the dead dog, its once white fur soiled now with dirt and blood.
“Aww, poor dog,” Izzy said sadly. Ran over by a car was never a good fate. “Should we call animal control or something?” she suggested when he mentioned not leaving it there.
She blinked at him at his request. “I... yeah, of course. I didn’t know you cared so much about animals. I think we’ve got a couple shovels in the garage I could borrow.”

* * *

Though she was as close to a human as she could get, capable of going out during the sun’s reign, there was still something about being out during the night that felt right. Natural. Having taken to keeping her bike in the backyard to avoid the noise of pulling it from the garage, Izzy walked it around to the front of the house, an old school pack she had found shoved in her closet slung over her shoulder.
Toying with the idea that she really should clean out her closet, she mounted her bike and took off down the street, not needing to think too hard on the turns she would need to take to make it to the abandoned school. When she at last reached the road where even the streetlights had been shut off or broken, she turned on the flashlight she had strapped to the bike’s handlebars.
She stopped just outside the decaying building, unwrapped her flashlight from the bike, and wheeled it to a spot where it would not be noticed on the off chance someone passed by.
The school doors hung open just enough for her to slip through, the chain that had once kept them shut long since broken and rusting on the ground.
Inside the entrance hall, she paused, listening, the beam of her light slowly swiveling around the room.
The moan of the gentle wind echoed with an eerie volume inside, finding any cracks it could to drift through. When it paused to take a breath, an almost deafening silence fell, broken only by the occasional scuttle of rodents or the ghostly sound of the building creaking and groaning.
Slowly, she made her way upstairs, careful to watch her step and sure Riley would be out by now. The echo of her footsteps sounded loud in the darkness cowering away from the beam of her flashlight. She cast the light into each classroom as she passed, sweeping it over rusting desks and chairs, and peeling, molding wallpaper until at last it shone on a familiar face.
If she had not known any better, she would have thought that the child never moved from his corner, ever huddled, ever glaring, nothing but a ghost of what Izzy had seen him as in a similar form.
She took a deep breath, swallowed, and entered, careful to not shine the light directly on him to avoid blinding him. She glanced around the room, subconsciously hoping Riley would pop out of the woodwork as he always seemed to do, but only the shadows shifting with the sudden light provided any movement.
For the first time in months, it was only her and what remained of the once grand Cerasus Orion Damocles. The room felt a little colder and darker for it, as if the walls themselves had absorbed his ire.
Doing her best to ignore the feeling, she shrugged the pack from her shoulders and placed it on one of the desks she suspected had been cleaned from Riley using it in combination with others as a makeshift bed. She balanced the end of her flashlight beside the pack, the beam facing up so it reflected off the crumbling ceiling and cast just enough light to see by.
Finally, she turned to face the child’s all too familiar glare. She stepped toward him, then knelt down beside him, facing him.
“Hey.” Her soft voice shattered the silence. “I’d ask how you’re doing, but...” Though she knew he would not answer her, whether because he could or would not, she still had to try. She sighed. “If you’d ever actually like to tell me, I’m all ears.”
She bent her head and undid the scarf she had yet to take off for the day. Wadding it up, she turned and tossed it onto the desk, the light fabric flaring open and draping half on and half off the desk. She bit her lip lightly as she turned back to the child.
“It’d be nice to know if you even can talk,” she muttered more to herself than to him as she scooted closer and reached an arm out to draw him to her.

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She smiled faintly when the bruise began to basically erase from Trevor’s face. Once it had faded completely, she pulled the scarf away.
Handsome, as always, she thought to his question. “Er, like the Trevor I know,” she said aloud, trying to not blush again. She cleared her throat, leaned her staff on her shoulder, and busied herself with wrapping the scarf back where it belonged. “Guess we can add healing spit to the capabilities of a ‘vampiric mockery of a human.’” She paused, wondering why, if that was the case for both of them, Cerasus’ bite marks remained between his saliva and her healing capabilities.
“So,” she gripped her staff lightly, “where were you headed before I interrupted?”

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Izzy nodded in agreement. “I’ll have to bring it up the next time I see him.”
She watched Trevor remove the gauze, her face twisting in empathy at the bruise beneath the bandage. The sight of it only kindled her anger, the emotion flashing over her green eyes. She took a deep breath to calm herself, and unwrapped the decorative scarf from around her neck.
“Remind me to add this to my list of ‘Moderately Strange Things I’ve Done,’” she said, her voice stiff despite her attempt at humor. Noticing his mild anticipation, she looked at him reassuringly. “It’s not like I’m going to just hawk a loogy at you.”
She gathered as much saliva as she could in her mouth, then spat it out on the end of her scarf until it soaked the fabric to her satisfaction.
“This work for you?” she asked, reaching up to dab the wet part of the fabric gently against his bruised cheek.

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Izzy followed him down the deserted side street, pausing only a moment to give a quick glance at the very few people out and about that glorious summer morning before stepping into the shade cast by the nearest buildings.
“It's no worse than brother-sweat," she grumbled, rolling her eyes. "But there’s only one way to find out if it’ll work, right? You know, I’m not entirely sure how I should feel about you knowing more about vampires than me.” She gave Trevor a small, teasing smile. "I should seriously start reading up more on their lore.”
Her expression sobered. “Here’s probably as good a place as any.” Her pace slowed.

A Land of Wonder and Nightmare

Gritting her teeth and hoping Ghent would dodge fast enough, Elayra rolled out of the way of the red cat’s strike. Its claws scraped against the concrete with an unnerving, grinding screech where she had just been, leaving deep marks in the man-made stone.
The glow in its eyes flickered.
Yes! “What’s wrong, little kitty?” she taunted, emboldened by the sign of fading life. “I’m surprised you haven’t already been beaten by a mouse!”
With a wavering hiss, it moved to strike at her again.
Elayra pulled her legs toward her, rolled to her hands and knees out of the beast’s reach, and got shakily to her feet despite her protesting muscles.
Meanwhile, before claws met boy, a glint of silver flashed in the dim light. The long blade of Drust’s katana propelled through the shadowmire’s scaly side and furry chest. The momentum of the attack threw the beast slightly off course, but not enough to prevent its weight from crashing with Ghent should he not manage to move out of the way, his dagger adding to the creature’s fatal wound. The moment it fell with a heavy thud, the glow of its eyes extinguished.
Drust ran toward Ghent and the cat from near the doors into the bookstore’s storage room, looking no worse for wear. Reaching Ghent, should he still reside beneath the beast and not have managed to already pull himself out, Drust used a foot to lever some of the cat’s weight off him.
“No sleeping on the job, boy!” Drust growled with a twitch, reaching down to pull Ghent free with a glance to Elayra and the red shadowmire.
When the red cat’s claws dug again into the concrete, missing their target for the second time, its head collapsed behind its outstretched paw, followed by the rest of its body like a dying wave. The glow of its eyes flickered a couple times, then went out, leaving only an empty, dull crimson gaze covered with a milky film.
With a wickedly satisfied grin, Elayra looked to Ghent, and gave a relieved sigh as she watched Drust yank his sword from the dead animal. With sluggish movements, she went to retrieve her saber. She tried to pull it from the cat’s neck with one hand, but gave a frustrated snort when her strength failed her. Using both hands, she managed to pull her blade free, the metal glistening with a coat of an unnaturally brilliant, thick red.
Elayra moved to the wall nearest her companions, and leaned against it, suppressing a groan.
“You alright?” she asked, nodding toward Ghent, and trying to hide the weariness weighing her down. She looked him over for any signs of injury.

Melodramatic Deities and an Ageless Taste for Pizza

Please, no need to apologize! I hope you get a good night's sleep. Until anon!