Welcome to Gaia! ::

The color bled from Riley's eyes as Yuki spoke one single word, and it captured her attention long enough to drain the bloodlust away. She blinked, her eyes white and clear, and her head tilted slowly to the left.

Jason? She whispered, a hesitation present in her voice. You speak to - our Jason? Yet as soon as she'd said the words, she realized just how familiar - how intimate they sounded, and the red flooded back into her eyes. She saw nothing but hate once more, and leaned in too close for comfort, while still holding the radio up to Yuki's face.

Call for him. Riley hissed out, her voice hungry and low. Tell him to rescue you. He is your friend, Yuki. Call out to him. Jason will always come when we call.

It was clear, by the way she demanded Jason's presence, that this was not a good idea.

The satisfaction and delight in Riley's expression ebbed away slowly, with every word Yuki said. It stung to hear the mention of knights at all - but more importantly, Yuki was turning Jason away. He was trying to convince the weakling to stay away from here; abandoning himself and his own safety for the other.

He was protecting Jason. From her.

There was a part of her, however small, and dead, and trampled, that felt betrayed by the sentiment.

There was a much larger part of her, the part that she considered her and no one else, that felt extreme, blood-curdling rage for Yuki's actions. She wanted more than just one toy, this time. Self-sacrifice bored her; Yuki feared more for Jason's well being, than his own.

She glared down at the face, turned away so it would never have to look at her, and crushed the radio to broken pieces that fell from her claws.

He will still come. She whispered, even if she did sound disappointed. And you will be alive. And I will be waiting.

Riley's hand tightened into a fist, and - in a strangely humanoid fashion - she pulled her fist back and clocked him right in the jaw, to knock her bait unconscious.

She waited until he crumpled, before she finally moved away enough to let him fall to the floor. She watched him, for a few long seconds, before she swooped down to crouch nearby, and leaned in to glare at his face.

There were enough subtle differences, once she got a good look at him, to remind her that he, too, was different from the man of their memories. It helped to quell some of her anger, but not fully appease it.

You are not special, you know. She spoke to a mind that could not hear her, save for the possibility that her voice might reach his dreams. You are no more, or less, than any man, woman, or child. But you stand for something. In that one word, and it's strong inflection, welled a lifetime of hate. Her eyes swirled with blood for a single moment, before fading back to white.

I can't kill her, permanently. I've tried. She exists in too many strings of fate to cut without killing myself. But if I kill you, if I kill him, then perhaps that is enough.

She dropped down to her rear, plopping on the ground and waiting in the dark for the sounds of someone coming. She waited, and wondered, if it would ever be enough.