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The phoenix began to writhe and twist and spill forward in slow motion, like a bird-shaped tidal wave. He turned for a moment to Amrita, and Mort and Calder, waiting for an idea that never came. There was nowhere to go, nowhere to run to, nothing to attack. He turned back to the horizon and braced himself.

There was no impact. Just white. White, everywhere, cleaning away the disaster zone and the hunters and the chaos. Instead, there were just... horsemen, grey shadows of themselves, each with an apparent destination. None of the looked at him, but that was actually normal for them. What wasn't normal was that they were still here, like this, in this place. Where was this place? Was everything okay now?

The dracolich felt a small tug on his jacket. "Excuse me."

There was a small white figure beside him, waiting, watching. The dracolich gave them as puzzled a look as a skull could manage to. The meaning was lost on them.

"Excuse me. Are you crossing as well?" Another gentle tug, forcing Aymet to take a step forward.

It's okay.

It's okay. It's alright.

It will all be okay.

You're going home.

The white figure hadn't spoken another word, but many other voices had. They whispered quietly, reassured him. There was no way to tell where he was, or how long he'd been here. At one point he had wanted to turn around, to look for something, or someone. But the whispers, however kind, were relentlessly repetitive, and he could only think of one thing. Home...

"Are you going to roll, or what?"

Aymet turned around suddenly. That voice--

"Some of us have class tomorrow. C'mon!"

This was a lazy sunday afternoon in the undead dorms. The board was set, painstakingly hand-made figurines in position, three personalized sets of dice spilled haphazardly on the table - gold, glowing, and bone. A simpler time, when everyone's biggest fear was the Princess Corner. Scaly green fingers tapped impatently on the edge of a table that sat in a clean white fuzzy void. The colchian dragon they belonged to was trying to appear impatient, but her eyes sparkled with amusement. She didn't seem to notice where they were.

Without thinking, Aymet took a step toward the table in complete disbelief. "Cyrilla..."

It's okay.

It was so familiar. So real. He felt a sudden longing for what he saw. No, more than that. He wanted this to be real. More than anything. If it was real or fake, he would never have been able to tell. After all the strange places and times he'd seen, this was as good as real to him. Here, everything that had come before was dreamlike, the details slipping away. He'd been hibernating for so long in his dorm room, maybe he was just having weird dreams. Cyrilla and Merope, they'd probably laugh when he described it all. Especially the hunters. It was probably a sign he'd been playing way too much Dungeons & Humans. Everyone knew there was no such thing, they were just a story for scarelings. Just a bad dream. He was here now. With friends. Playing games, goofing off, like old times. It was where he belonged.

"Yes, apparently I'm a very intimidating dungeon master." She played with her hair idly, brushing it out of her face. "If you don't hurry up and roll I'm going to sic a cheerleader on your guy too."

It's okay.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm rolling." He sat down at the table and scooped up the bone-white d20. Why did he feel so relieved to be here? He was here like every week. From Cyrilla's side of the table, the impatient finger tapping began again.

He only felt the briefest sense of deja vu when she spoke. "Are you going to roll, or what?"

Just keep walking. You'll be home soon.

(( 644 words, +3 pts ))

It was hard to miss such an obvious creature in the sky, the many pieces of its shape colliding swirling together like milk and tea. It was as if it was comprised entirely of ghosts, which made the demon’s heart hurt in an odd sort of way.

They knew, in theory, that genocide had just been committed. They did not know much of other clans, but it was Famine that gave the demon’s heart a stutter.

A lazy week spent in the sun filtering in through a roughly carved window, curled up next to happy little pants basking in the light as well. A week of glowing ferns and moths, of insects that invaded every possible facet of life (in the most polite way imaginable), of lessons learned and tree scaled for the sake of fruit.

It had taken Aleria exactly one day to adjust their attire to suit the Clan, a stark contrast from the frigid tundra the demon had spent so long being familiar with.

All of it was gone, and it was…

It was such a pity.

Not just for lives lost, but for knowledge lost to the explosion, of all four clans. If there were any survivors, they would be the ones responsible to charter that knowledge, to recreate a civilization that had, quite literally, been toppled in a singular fell swoop.

The fog descended upon the battlefield slowing, covering it like the smog from a grease fire, the sky and the ground beneath the demon filtering into unfortunate shades of grey.

The fog was not quite the same as it had been in Shayala, with the comfort of frost nipping at the heels, without the whiteness of snow surrounding the village.

Figures appeared, one by one like stars in the night sky, slowly taking shape and pressing onwards, marching to a destination unknown. Suddenly afraid, Aleria drew their cloak around them, the vines curling around their face, a flower at the base of a thorny horn.

Aleria needed no coercion. The demon sought out the glowing beacon of a figure, like snow against ash, and clasped a hand with theirs.

“I do not intent to accompany you to the final destination,” Aleria warned with a black eyed stare, blinking nearly owlishly. “But I wish to see where the procession is headed.”

So the demon, in eight feet of glory and spindly and pale among the drab, was led ahead—

Their path was an easy one. Surefooted steps forward, a walk so easy towards oblivion that Aleria hardly needed guidance. Their eyes slipped closed, the warmth of the hand pulling them onwards at a slow but steady pace.


Aleria had been more of a boil, then. Years ago, now, with cropped white locks and nubbins for horns, swaddled in a coat two sizes too large. It was a hand me down, of course. All the children of Shayala were raised by an elected selection of guardians, one for every five to six children. Clothes were hand me downs and toys were nigh unheard of, but they were a happy group.

As a child, they had been curious and quiet. According to a Den Mother, Aleria had not spoken for their first five years, simply preferring to communicate via pen and paper and plant. They had never been concerned with loneliness, as all of the Arctic Flora demons had a plant of some variety on their person.

And so, Aleria had their vines for company. That, in and of itself, was not a rarity at all, not by any stretch of the imagination. It was not unusual or unheard of—in fact…

Aleria of Shayala had been ordinary in nearly every way.

The demon was of an average height, and possessed an average amount of strength for their FEAR. They had average social skills when they chose to use them, and had an average intelligence.

The only thing that set them apart, in any way, was their endless thirst for knowledge, an unquenchable desire to understand how all of Halloween worked, and everything inside of it—and now outside of it, too.

The most comforting thought for Aleria was this:

The smell of sulfur as a match is struck, and the warm glow of a candle as it is lit, carefully set down on a table. The reassuring bite of everlasting cold of winter in the arctic sinking into a house made of stone. The familiar weight of vines nestled not just in Aleria’s mind but in their body as well, silent but curious and quiet but comforting.

The smell of old books, tiny hands running over their spines, claws filed down to inflict minimal damage due to eagerness.

The stories Aleria would read, fictional or otherwise, would keep the pint-sized demon up until the late hours of the morning, until their eyes that were black from lid to lid were nearly falling closed from strain.

It is there, in that library that grows to be a thousand times its size in this memory, that Aleria feels at home.

Aleria’s hand was tugged along by their tiny companion, a beacon of white in the shade. Even as they were being led to what surely was oblivion (and a comforting one at that, oh, how it felt more like home than Aleria had ever known), the demon mused upon a single thought.

If curiosity often killed the cat, then it was a rather good thing that they were, in fact, not a feline, for the demon wished to see.

“I want to stand as close to the edge as I can without going over,” Aleria murmured to themself, eyes slowly opening to face the fog. “Out on the edge you see all the kinds of things you can't see from the center.”

No amount of pressure on his ears could manage to block out that voice.

A little thing, not much taller than he was as he sat, earnestly tapped on his shoulder. His hands fell to his lap as he watched it curiously, wondering where it had come from. Had it brought the fog with it? All of those figures? Weary eyes focused on those progressing behind the little white form, realizing the familiarity that they carried. They were horsemen. Were they going home? Would they really be able to make it?

"Excuse me. Are you crossing as well?"

Crossing? He wasn't quite sure what that meant, but the thing seemed to assume that he would...and he wasn't going to let on that he didn't. Surely these were all souls on their journey. He'd seen the fate of the islands...they couldn't be alive. And as a Cerberus, he was wary. He knew what happened to souls. He knew exactly what it meant to make that crossing - to pass that river back home. They would make it to their own Gate, and find their own guardian, allowing passage into a final peace.

Thackery was nowhere near ready to make that crossing. In fact, he didn't intend to do so until he took his post at the Gates.

"No, I'm not...no. This isn't for me yet." He shook his head at the figure, still firmly seated on the ground, worried that standing up might mean giving in.

The words had only just barely left his mouth when the other voices began, reassuring him, encouraging him to walk with them, to do it together. Still, he was defiant...until the first utterance of home.

He sat snugly in his lap, a startlingly perfect fit, like the little wooden nesting dolls his mother collected for a time. For something that had once intimidated him, Ash's height always delighted him when they were together: the hugs that perfectly encompassed him, the special care to lean down for kisses when Thackery wanted them. Things that others might not even register that were small reminders of how much he really cared for him.

The fireplace bathed them in a warm, flickering light, that dancing glow that left their skin just a little mottled with each crackling spark. (--with the Insanity? no no, something assured, pushing him forward--)

"Ash," he began, uneasy, thoughts of that first 'date' flooding his head. Science date. He still hadn't admitted how seriously he'd taken the homework assignment, how many times he'd caught himself looking across that library table at the reaper, handicapped by some strange shyness that just wouldn't go away. Six whole pencils chewed anxiously through right to their lead in just one nerve-wracking afternoon, and here they sat, together again, that jittery feeling fast returning.

There was the slightest shifting movement from him, acknowledgement that he was listening. Thackery chewed his lip. None of the books or stories made it seem this complicated. And it shouldn't be, right? Just a few words? Not even big ones!

"Um." And that was not one of them. "Well. I was just thinking, and...I wanted you to..." He was beginning to get frustrated with himself. "I love you."

For some reason, he'd thought that it would be easier to breathe once he managed to say it. Instead, the Cerberus stiffened, holding his breath as he craned to see his response. Which was...a stare. He began to fidget, mind frantically attempting to put together some sort of apologetic reconciliation for what he'd just done, when Ash just blinked at him, and, so easily:

"I love you as well, Thackery." Another short stare, laced in disbelief. "Was this not obvious?"

All of the serenity provided by the sounds of the steadily burning logs was promptly interrupted by a happy little sound, quiet at first, rolling quickly out of control.

"aaaaaaaaaaaAAAAH! I knew it, I did!" Tail wagging, arms wrapped tight around his shoulders, he poured out a stream of neverending kisses. This was perfect. There was no better feeling. He knew that this was how he wanted to spend forever.

And he could.

One step after the other. No hesitation. He wanted to go home.

[698]

Everything was always so sudden.

One moment everyone was fighting one another. The next a giant bird was racing across the sky. And then Meixiang was swallowed up by the white fog. She felt as if she were displaced, simply drifting through the fog with no real reason or purpose except to drift.

But as suddenly as the fog had surrounded her it started to change once more. The ghoul moved suddenly as figured began to shift around her. Eyes wide in surprise before she finally noticed one singular figure, a small one at that, standing off to the side. It mentioned home.

"Home?"

That was the only word she was able to say before she was swept away again. But her confusion was suddenly replaced by fear. And before her eyes she saw the graveyard in which she had clawed her way out of the grave to wander in. It was all so familiar and frightful, confusing.

Why was she here again? Hadn't she already gone through this?

The air was cold and stale though had a dampness to it that lingered. Like the fog that she had just been in. Had she been in fog before now?

It all came back to Mei, slowly but surely. She was re-living her first moments of being undead. Lifting her eyes to the horizon she could see the moon as it hung low in the sky. Even still, after all this time it felt strange and new. Panic began to set in as old feelings began to rise up within her.

To her left she could hear a commotion, someone or something was coming. Mei panicked more as she turn to run away from whatever was coming. Whoever or whatever it was was following her now as she raced through the graveyard trying to find anywhere to hide. To get away.

But still it drew near. She ducked behind a tombstone, leaning her back against the cold stone. The absent feeling of a racing heart caused her to panic. What was going on?

Mei pulled her knees to her chest, huddling there behind the tombstone as something drew even closer. She felt the need to run but her body wouldn't move. Closer it came and she squeezed her eyes shut, her body trembling as she held onto her legs tighter.

The sudden soft glow of light caught her by surprise. This was it. Whatever was chasing her had found her.

"Awww, you poor thing." A soft, reassuring female voice broke the silence. As Mei looked up she squinted against the light of what seemed to be a lantern, held up by the figure the voice had come from. "I found one!" The female seemed to be calling out to others who quickly made their way over to where they were.

She pushed herself harder against the tombstone in fear and panic. Her eyes wide as she tried to cling to it for safety. As her eyes adjusted to the light she could make out the figure now and others that soon gathered around her.

"Come now little one, no need to be scared. We're not going to hurt you." The female smiled, leaning forward to get a better look at Mei. Her skin was a pale green, hair long and completely white.

Another figure came to her side, this one male from what she could tell. "Careful mother, she seems a little out of it. She might lash out."

"I don't think we have anything to worry about father. She's just scared is all, as we all were when we arrived here." The female turned back to Mei, holding out her hand. "Now then, I bet you'd like to get out of this silly old graveyard hm? Go someplace safe, eat something? I'm sure you're tired as well, its not an easy thing to go through and good thing we found you in time."

Mei was unsure of these people, but what choice did she have in the matter? She could either stay here scared and alone or go with these people. Looking at all of them who had gathered she finally noticed that they all had piece of paper with strange scroll written upon their foreheads. To which she finally noticed that she too had the same paper after reaching up and touching her own brow.

Slowly, she took the female's hand. It was cold. Dead cold. No warm life seemed to run through her body. It was strange but even so she allowed herself to be pulled up from the ground. Her legs still wobbly. The female wrapped an arm around her to steady Mei and as she looked around at all the other smiling faces she felt a strange sort of acceptance from them. Even though none of them knew her. She was a stranger among them. And yet they looked upon her as if they had known her for years.

"Lets go everyone. We need to get your new little sister back home and cleaned up." The female with her arm around her seemed mostly in charge at the moment. Though she got the feeling that the other male that she referred to as father also had a high place among them as well.

Her sense of panic and fear quickly melted away. Though she was still confused and fairly weary of what was going to happen to her. Mei let a small smile creep upon her lips as she was guided from the cold and silent graveyard.

WC: 921

Before expected himself to panic, to have his heart pounding frantically against his chest, to have all his muscles coil tight until the tension snapped his nerves raw. But when the white fog rolled in, when Bix and Tori faded from sight, when coherence and lucidity settled back in his mind, he was surprisingly calm. Not the empty calm devoid of all feelings he often retreated to whenever the situation became too overwhelming. Just a peaceful, serene calm that made the figure's approach appear not so threatening or intimidating.

His teal eyes blinked at the question, his head angled to the side in thought. His shoulders rose and fell in a shrug, "Iunno. Maybe?" He didn't seem too concerned as they began to walk together. Somehow, his feet brought him to a door, which should strike him as odd because he didn't remember even walking into the house, let alone down the corridor that led to door, but for the moment Before wasn't bothered.

Before just knew behind the door was a room where the walls were covered in posters of cartoon characters and the shelves displayed toys that matched the posters. Behind the door was a room where a little boy would be sitting on his bed, his legs tucked under him, while the bristles of a cherry wood brush swam through a sea of raven hair. Behind the door was a room where a little boy could freely talk about the strange, often times frightening, things he saw lurking on the grounds of his prep school.

Do you know that scareling, silly Before? Vanna asked.

The devil shield's query pulled Before's lips into a small, wan smile.

"I used to," he murmured. His gloved hand rested on the knob, reluctant to turn and open it because he knew that very same room eventually lost the posters and the toys. That very same room would have the little boy sitting on his bed, only he would not be so little anymore, he'd just be short and alone. That very same room would cease to be a safe haven and the little boy would be censored of his wild tales in favor of saving face and keeping his screw ups away from the rumor mills.

Is this your home, silly Before? Vanna ventured, her voice lacked her usual conviction as she sensed her human bond's hesitation.

He refrained from answering audibly, but his lips pressed into a thin line, the muscles in his arm weighed like lead, and all desire to confirm what he knew fled. And yet, he couldn't let go, his hand refused to release its hold on the doorknob, his feet were rooted to the spot. Any moment now, Before expected his anxiety to return ten fold, he expected to break into a cold sweat over his predicament.

But was it really one?

At the urging from voices unseen, from voices that were not his or his partner's, Before opened the door and stepped through the threshold. And the room was not what he had expected. It was familiar, however, with its sparse furniture and simple decor. The closet was ajar, a white coat and a T-Shirt visible through the gap. The desk had a stack of cook books and self-help books dog-eared from the amount of times they were read. Beside a notebook with post-its peeking from the pages was a framed motivational card. Before retreated out of the room and into an unlit hallway, phantom hands nudging him forward, the unseen voices encouraging him to continue.

Is this your home, silly Before? Vanna clarified, her voice curious and hopeful.

A smile, small but certain, crept across his face, "Iunno. Maybe?"

((wc: 615))

It seemed like they weren't doing much damage against the giant grey Phoenix and Zurine was starting to despair..between the bird and the hunters well..it just didn't look good for them. Of course even as she thought this the phoenix began to change,feathers dissolving and wings curling slightly - and then everything went white, blurred and misty and Zurine could no longer see anything. Not her fellow student's, not the platform they stood on..not even the hunters and she could only hope that her enemies were in a similar situation - otherwise she was a sitting duck at the moment. That thought made her glance around warily and when the figures started to form out of the mist and make their way forward she felt a split second of fear course through her. This was it then..the hunters were coming for her.

But no..it wasn't the hunters who were forming from the mists, no these figures were different, figures in grey's and blacks moving through the fog like a group crossing a road and all of them dressed as though they belonged to the clans. The clans that were just destroyed... were they..we they..and before she could finish that thought one of them a small figure in white, standing a ways off from the rest, was speaking to her, trying to get her attention. "Crossing?" Zurine questioned and the figure must have taken that for a yes because it was suddenly dragging her forward along with the rest of the crowd and while Zurine resisted for the first step or two..every steps came a bit easier and soon she wasn't resisting at all because going with the crowd felt right and everyone in the crowd was assuring her it was right, that this was proper and Zurine was filled with a sense of calm recollection as fond memories of home rose to the surface of her mind.

Home.

Home, where her family waited and she recalled her last time there, running through the woods with her family pack, a trail of gleaming red eyes in the darkness as they followed the woodland trail. It had been a happy time, a time when she had felt secure and safe and loved there with her pack who accepted her despite her rather unusual clumsy ways, her pack where no hunters came for her and her friends. It was alright they told her whenever she tripped - she would grow out of it someday and in the meantime they would all look out for her..run together and she was far more surefooted in her animal form then she was in her humanoid. Perhaps that was why those woodland run always felt that much better, more her, more right. The night of her last run with the pack - the run they had all taken before she'd come to school replayed itself over and over again in her mind and with each recollection another detail of the memory surfaced. There..there was the tree which marked the end of the packs territory, and there was the stream where they had all stopped to drink. Here was the clearing where the elders had stopped to tell them tales of the old times - the time when they had frightened humans in the darkness and been far greater in number then they were today. It was wonderful and right and Zurine felt not a moment of sadness or hesitation as the figure pulled her onward - with each step she was closer to that once happy place the voices told her, closer to the place where she belonged. Closer to home. They would go there together, find it together and all would be right again.

Wc - 618

"Deryk!" Jason shouted franticly. "Harrison! Rep! Anybody!"

Nothing. There was nothing but white mist. He stumbled, breathing erratic as he felt a panic attack coming on. He was alone. Forever alone. There were no other hunters around, no one to back him up or provide comfort. What was going on? How was he supposed to get out?!

"Somebody!" He called out. "Please! ANSWER ME!" He began running. Running as fast as he could, but the scenery never changed. Eventually he stopped his frantic attempts to escape, and for a few brief moments he tried to make sense of the situation.

Then the whiteness began to change. Shapes were forming in the darkness, beings with strange garments and jewelry, feathers adorning their heads. The sight almost made him pass out then and there with fright. They looked like ghosts, the ghosts of the horsemen.

he fell to the ground, hands going to his head. He shut his eyes, trying to block out everything as he shook with pure terror. Maybe if he just stayed there, they wouldn't attack him, and he would be found by someone.

And he was. But it wasn't whom he expected. He took in the sight of the white figure in front of him, and his mind drifted off into the past...



Jason was alone, inside a church building. It was a Sunday, just after morning mass, and his parents were outside. Most likely talking to other adults about adult stuff. The masses themselves were usually boring, and he didn't understand what the old man at the front was talking about. But even so, he liked going there, if only for once reason.

Near the back of the chapel was a mural, painted long ago by someone he did not know. The painting itself depictured a group of people, drabbed in simple white garments, their feathery wings radiating light. Their faces were kind, loving, holding out their arms with a beckoning call to all.

He walked towards this painting, drawn towards the kindly beings. It was his favorite painting, for he believed these beings, angels as they were called, had special powers. They could drive away the scary monsters that plagued him at night, their light destroying the shadows were they dwelled.

The child sat near the picture, placing a piece of paper on the floor. He had also brought with him some colored crayons, and he used them both to create himself a picture. His own special angel. It would be tall and proud, wearing silver armor to protect it from everything. It's wings would radiate a golden light that would illuminate even the deepest darkness, and most important of all, it would wield a mighty blade, one that would pierce the heart of every evil monster that would threatened him.
With his picture done, he placed it next to him. The suns rays illuminated the chapel and bathed it in it's warmth, and within this warmth he slept.


There was a soft rustling in the air. It was loud enough to awake the sleeping Moon hunter, who stirred and opened his eyes to a lazy Sunday afternoon. He had been dreaming...No, that was no dream. Just another nightmare, filled with wispy ghosts and giant phoenixes made out of fog. He was safe now, far away from that dreadful place.

He stood up, eyes once again drawn to the mural with it's guardians. The painting was as it always was, no different then before. Feeling at peace, he turned from the mural.

The church stood as it always had, the long walkway with the chairs on either side, leading down to the altar were the old man had stood. The area was now cast in shadow, and within that shadow stood...

Jason gasped. He stared, stared long and hard. He couldn't believe what he was seeing. The moon hunter walked quickly down the chapel, his sights set on the figure ahead.

The figure had his back turned to him, currently looking at something Jason couldn't see, his head bowed as if he was lost in thought. The wings on his back rustled softly, delicately even, as they were spread wide.

This was when Jason had stopped. This wasn't right. This wasn't right at all. He had thought the person was a angel. But it didn't look like any angel he had seen. The wings...they were black. As black as a ravens feathers in the dead of night. There were small protrusions coming from the mans head; horns, ivory black and curved inwards.

He felt his legs give way, and he collapsed to his knees. The figured heard this, folding his wings along his back he turned, red eyes showing a hint of surprise at seeing Jason there, kneeling before him. Slowly he walked towards the hunter, boots echoing eerily off the walls.

No. No, This wasn't happening, He wasn't seeing this, It wasn't-

"Woah woah, easy there..." The figure spoke in a voice Jason had not expected to hear, one that he was only to familiar with by now. "This is supposed to be a happy memory, remember? You're not supposed to s**t yourself with fear here...Oh wait, I'm not supposed to swear inside a church. Sorry about that."

"..." He was speechless, unable to answer.

The figure smirked, again looking down at something he was holding in his hands. Jason realized now he was looking at the picture he had drawn earlier.

"It's pretty good, for a child's drawing at least." He said. " I have to say it though, it doesn't look a thing like me. But all jokes aside..." He paused, looking at Jason thoughtfully. "I never realized you were into this kind of thing:"

"...T...This was from a long time ago." Jason finally spoke up. "I was only 5...I had completely forgotten about it until now."

"I see...." He said, then sighed. "well, if anything, I think I might keel over from the irony of this situation. I will say this though. I'm not much of a 'guardian angel', but at the very least, I am your sword. One you can use to slay the bad guys."

He then held out his hand towards Jason. "You ready to get going?"

For a few moments, he merely stared at the hand that was offered to him, before he grabbed it. Standing to his feet, he felt the familiar hilt of his sword as he looked at the white figure.

"Excuse me. Are you crossing as well?"

"Yes...yes I am" He replied.

((Word count: 1,08 cool )

If there was one thing Rin thought she had, it was time. She was so sure she had it, tons of it. Seconds, minutes, hours, days, weeks, YEARS of it. But in that instant it seemed to all slip fluidly through her fingers, taking all the colour of the world with it.

She knew the life she had chosen would lead to this, but actually seeing it? She was scared. Outright terrified now. It was as if she never lived her life for real before she came here and already it was ending.

She tried so hard to let things go. To just throw herself into everything that she was ever missing from her life before. To stop being the responsible one and just being a god damn kid for once. It was hard though, so hard. Change wasn’t easy nor was it ever fast.

Silhouettes seemed to cast down at her through the fog. A silent reverie of two bodies entwined in ecstasy. She’d never done anything like that before. She still could barely believe it had actually happened. There were no regrets though. She had felt so good in that moment… so powerful as if nothing could ever touch her. There was nothing that could be taken from her now, no, she’d willingly given it away. It was her choice like she had always wanted it to be. But then, when it was over why did she still feel so empty? Why did she want more? It was a new feeling she didn’t have before but also one she couldn’t seem to shrug.

She closed her eyes tightly to bury the feeling along with the memory. Distantly she found herself walking now, guided by a child she had barely registered was even there. It brought her to open her eyes again. Such a fool was she to think the memories were over. They had only just begun.

Shapes, faces, people seemed to form around her from nothing. Some of them she’d recognized, some of them not so much, all of them women. Ah, it was another test. It was time to socialize Rin. Make some friends, at the very least a few allies. You need them, they are to have your back after all.

She was reminded again how fleeting time was, that they could die at any moment.

She didn’t have to become attached. But oddly, she found herself wanting to. She wanted to become attached, even knowing the threats. What would have been the point in living if you continued on living for just yourself? If she had wanted that, then she should have just stayed home. Home.

She forced herself on, glad to join them, glad they would even have her. She was still sick to her stomach, though. Various thoughts of uncertainty were gnawing at the back of her mind. Did she even belong here? Was she even right to intrude when she had no idea what she was even getting into? Did any of that even matter?

Any spiral of self doubt found itself quietly conquered into submission as she felt an assuring hand fall softly upon her shoulder and gave it a gentle squeeze. Why the hell did these creatures… these monsters have to seem so human and even worse, why the hell did they ever have to be so right?

She felt herself pushed onward in her memories and in her reality. Joining them became a compelling need and their smiles as she approached would not be forgotten, no matter how fleeting. They were to be cherished and held dear to her. They weren’t much, but they were everything to the lonely trainee.