Benu

[Elizabeth]

Inchoate [0]


A pair of eyes shot open, a hand fumbled at a clock to stop the alarm and knock a pair of glasses to the ground below, though that had hardly been its objective. The mouth was just as good at its job, the curse getting drowned out by a huge yawn that brought the head back to the wonderfully soft pillow, tempted it to go back to sleep.

But the girl attached to all of those knew better than to give in, so she gave a sigh instead, pushing herself away from her pillow to retrieve her glasses. The occupants of the other two beds in the room didn't show any signs of stirring, but it would be only a few more minutes before their own alarms would sound and, with any luck, she would be finished and back by then. Generally, she was, and, much as she disliked it, she had fallen into a routine by now, one that seemed solid enough, but every morning, there was always a tickle of fear at the back of her mind. It was better that way, better to accept that fate, at times, was a cruel mistress.

The middle drawer of her dresser, where she kept most of her clean shirts, squeaked something awful; that was one of the reasons she had taken up picking out an outfit the night before and stowing it in the top drawer. She barely had to look inside as she pulled out the clothes, slipping on the glasses with her other hand before beginning to creep across the room. Her bed, of course, had to be the one furthest from the door, forcing her to pass by both of the others on her way out.

The one who slept closest to the door could have slept through just about anything, which, at the very least, made the final part of the trek easy enough. The girl was surprised that the alarm even worked, truth be told. The one in the middle, however, was not quite so oblivious, and was the reason the girl remained barefoot despite the cold stone beneath her feet making her shiver, a particularly horrid thing to trade her warm bed for. Even so, she froze halfway between the two beds as the blankets stirred.

Her mind raced, weighing its options - stay and hope for the best, or run in the hopes of getting out before the stirring turned into an awakening? Because once she started the latter, that was bound to happen.

'Calm down,' she told herself, teeth lightly closing around a bottom lip, as if in defiance of her own thoughts. 'Just act normal, it's not...'

But the blankets only rustled as the shape below them rolled over, and then settled, rising and falling slowly, nothing more. The teeth released their grip, as did the ice around the pair of feet, though they didn't feel any less cold as they continued their journey, stepping gingerly around the corner of the trunk at the foot of the last bed, where, despite promises and, quite possibly, real intentions, it had been for nearly six months now, and was likely to remain.

The door was big and thick, dark wood polished until it looked almost to be stone, but it swung open easily, quietly, shut again with no more than a soft click, echoing softly down the blessedly empty hallway. There were occasionally a few others up, either because they couldn't sleep, or they just liked getting up early - the freaks - but not this day.

The bathroom was right across the hall, a couple doors down; she could be there in a few seconds, if need be, though she didn't mind taking her time a bit, when she could, even if she did punctuate every step with a quick glance up and down the hall, every pause with a desperate attempt to listen for any rotating doorknobs.

The bathroom door was much smaller than the others in the hall, and lacked a knob, but the girl found it dreadfully difficult to enter, her hand pausing as it reached upwards. She moved her head a little closer, hoping she hadn't heard what she thought she had, that her luck wasn't -this- awful.

'When isn't it?' asked the voice in the back of her mind, a bit louder than usual, as it normally was when it was making fun of her, and not just reminding her of what she should have been.

The sound of water only got louder as her ears got closer to the door, instead of vanishing like her hurried prayers had begged. But, mixed with that, she could practically hear the sound of clocks ticking in all of the rooms up and down the hall, coming ever closer to the time when they'd go off, sending a deluge of bodies straight towards her. She heard a swallow - it took a fearful moment or two to recognize it came from her own throat - forced her hand higher, opened the door just far enough to slip inside, glancing upwards to see if she'd been noticed.

A pair of sunglasses met her gaze, the same as the ones sitting in front of her own eyes, tinges of red shimmering around the edges, drops of blue under. She allowed herself a relieved giggle, walked up to the sink that had been left on to turn it off, shaking her head at the mirror above it, the other her mimicking her actions. "Don't scare me like that," she ordered it, shaking her finger. It didn't give any sign of recognition or shame, simply walked away as she retreated back to one of the stalls, long, dark red hair dancing like flames in her wake.

She didn't allow herself to relax even with the door of the stall locked - it wasn't over yet, and she had probably wasted too much time already. She lifted her nightshirt, holding it up high enough to keep it out of her way as her other hand clumsily unsnapped her pajama pants, the first of her three layers, catching them with her knees before they could crumple completely to the floor.

Fingertips brushed against the third layer before sliding down to the second, igniting a blush across a set of pale cheeks, even as her mind sent the reassurance that at least it hadn't (as far as she knew) ridden up beyond the top of the pants this time. That was always the worst, even if she was pretty sure the covers had stayed on top of her through the whole night.

Baby blue panties joined the pajamas around her knees, as the sound of tape being removed extended the warmth on her face nearly to the tips of a pair of slightly pointed ears. A gaze checked behind her, the crack between the door and the frame revealing no new visitors, nobody lurking in the doorway. A chin took over holding the nightshirt, pressed against a frail chest, trembling just enough to keep her from ignoring, much as she'd like to.

The second tape might have been a little quieter as it came off, but it seemed to take twice as long, so, she supposed, it all balanced out. A smile of triumph blossomed as she lowered the diaper she'd just freed herself from, leaving it on the floor only long enough to tug up what she still thought of as her real night-clothes, though her mind was starting to add in that final layer whether she wanted it to or not. A quick snap, and the chin lifted, letting the shirt float back down.

Another check of the outside world ensued before the door of the stall was flung open, and she darted the few feet to the opening in the wall. The edges of it glowed ever so slightly, like embers struggling not to go out completely. She'd heard a few horror stories from when the slit had been wider, back when it was new, liked to tell herself they weren't true, though she had no real reason to disbelieve, other than a dislike of those who'd told the tales to her.

She watched the diaper vanish into the darkness beyond, a little of the weight melting off her shoulders. How much longer, she wondered. Surely it would be soon - assuming they believed her when she said she didn't need them. Her satisfaction in the little victory lasted a few seconds, then she hurried back over to the stall, though the mirror bore a slight look of contentment as she approached to wash her hands.

Alarm clocks would be going off soon, she reminded herself. If they hadn't already. Covers would be thrown aside, girls stampeding towards the very place she stood in, all struggling to be the first there, or at least among the first wave. It was generally better, at least in her opinion, to be nowhere around when that took place.

Fingers brush the door, only to have it pulled away from beneath, luckily swinging out and away, instead of in, towards her face. The girl gasped, hand jerking away, up towards her chest, in which a heart, unsure whether to thump louder or stop altogether, tried to do both at once.

The face on the other side was vaguely similar to the girl's - same curve of the cheeks, same shape of the eyes, same slight point to the ears - though it had a couple more years of development underneath, more of a sense of maturity. Not much taller, however, and a little skinnier. Her skin even seemed more thin, as if, small as she was, there wasn't enough of it to cover all of her, making it look almost transparent. The girl knew her, gave her a slow smile, lips pried apart by politeness, forced respect for the little power the other girl held, and fear. Mostly fear. She was one of the twins.

She gave a little nod in return, having only one word to say, giving the girl her name as she pushed past her into the bathroom. It danced in the air for a second or two, echoed through her mind as she turned, watching the twin, who was also watching her, eyes seemingly searching for something.

"Miranda."

But Miranda shook her head, surely mistaken. There would be no reason the twin would be looking for the diaper she'd just thrown away. No reason, unless... Her head shook again, a little slower, hair falling over her face. She didn't bother to move it, just walked away. She should get back to her room, she knew, before she convinced herself of anything that might make her do something she would regret.

Doors were opening around her as she left, making her quicken her pace. Her own room was bustling as well, once she returned, all three beds empty and beckoning. Sleepy pleasantries were exchanged, half drowned yawns, spreading like wildfire amongst the three girls. The other two began to fret over clothes. Miranda sometimes wished she knew enough to join in the advice they gave each other, but she simply pulled out things that were comfortable, that she liked the feel of, closing her drawer quick enough to pretend she hadn't noticed the lone cigarette off to one side.

Unlike the other two, Miranda found a certain joy in making her bed, a strange sense of order that helped her clear her mind for the day ahead. They would grumble whenever they got around to doing it, often finding all manner of very important things that needed to be done more. Perhaps it had something to do with her early rising, but Miranda always found the time in the morning, didn't feel quite awake until she had.

She felt her dreams falling away as she removed the tangled mess of blankets and sheets, unwinding itself from around her threads of reality as she separated them. And as she put them back onto her bed, each layer brought with it the reminder of what she needed to do that day, her schedule slowly reassembling, solidifying as she smoothed out the comforter, replaced her pillow.

She didn't realize she was alone until she had finished. The clock told her she had lost herself too long yet again, but the growl in her stomach advised against skipping the first thing on her schedule, that all important yet ever optional undertaking of breakfast.

She would need only a few books before she could return, so her bag felt almost oddly light as she slung it over her shoulder. The sun was dancing over the blade of her bardiche quite prettily, it almost felt a shame to move it. She grabbed it anyway, knowing she didn't have a choice, really. It was almost time for classes to start, and she could hardly be expected to go without it.


Aranea [1]


Smoke rose slowly, drifting just close enough to the window for a few tendrils to be seen every minute or two, should anyone be looking for them. A little more care, and they likely wouldn't be visible from inside at all, though their appearance reeked more of arrogance than carelessness.

If one were to notice them, they would need only to move aside one of the curtains, or poke their head from the window, to see the culprit. She looked more like the figurehead on the mast of a ship than the gargoyle one might expect. The wind breaking against the side of the building would, more often than not, be blowing her hair off to one side, making the end of her cigarette glow an even fiercer red, threatening to send her tall, slender form off of the little ledge she was perched on as she stared out over the mountains surrounding the school.

Miranda could smell the smoke before she noticed it, but not before she had already bitten loudly into the apple she'd taken from the cafeteria before sneaking back out, doing her best to pretend she hadn't seen Audrey and her twin, Mitch, his head sticking up well above his sister's on a set of shoulders a good deal more substantial, looking almost as if they'd been carved from a huge rock, whispering to one another, occasionally stealing glances in her direction.

Certainly, they had plenty they could have been talking about. Siblings usually seemed to, she'd found, even when they weren't in charge of making sure the first years on their halls didn't kill each other, or have some sort of nervous breakdown. And she imagined there were plenty of reasons they could have been looking at her - them and what seemed like everyone else - but they, of all people, should have grown used to whatever they saw in her by now.

Still, Miranda had decided she'd rather take a little walk around the school before class, telling herself she didn't have time to eat any kind of proper breakfast anyway, than pretend she didn't notice those two. It had been going just fine, until she'd managed to stumble into this hallway.

She should have known better, really. This was where she'd first met her, back on her very first day. And it was where she'd been given that cigarette, which she'd been too scared to have on her for any longer than it took to find her room, finally, and dump it into one of her drawers. She kept meaning to throw it away, but somehow, the thought of that was even scarier than having to throw away her diaper every morning. She tried not to touch it at all, always afraid a teacher would burst in as soon as her finger brushed against it.

How Veronica stood it, she had no idea. Then again, she was pretty certain nothing scared her. Miranda knew none of the other students did, and she had a feeling most of the teachers didn't, either. Veronica knew -everything-, or at least all the good stuff, that went on in the school, and she wasn't afraid to use any of that knowledge. But, of course, she was willing to keep quiet - if the price was right.

Some days, when Miranda was feeling particularly paranoid, she even suspected her of ratting her out to the teachers for setting her bed on fire, that first night. For the most part, however, she knew it was more likely her roommates who had, all things considered. Besides, there were plenty of other things to blame on Veronica.

By the time Miranda realized she had gotten herself so wrapped up in her thoughts she'd cheated herself out of any hope of avoiding the other girl. Not that she'd ever had much of a chance, unless she wanted to turn and run back the way she'd came. She didn't, in particular, so she watched the curtain rustle as a tiny speck of red flew out into the open air.

"How you doin', kid?" Veronica asked, sliding forward just far enough to find a comfortable perch on in windowsill. "Ain't seen you in a while. Been a good girl, I hope."

Miranda had heard on several occasions that Veronica's eyes were light blue, the color of ice. She'd never been able to tell herself, but she very much doubted they could possibly look as cold as the smile she was giving her now. She supposed it had always been like that - she'd just been too stupid to realize it the first time or two they'd talked, been dumb enough to think she was being friendly. Veronica was good at that; everyone said so. Didn't make Miranda feel much better about having trusted her.

"I'm great," she answered, forcing civility into her voice as hands tightened around bardiche and apple.

"Well, that's just peachy," Veronica nodded, somehow sounding sincere, while letting Miranda know she didn't believe a word of it. Her cigarettes appeared from one of the pockets in her jeans, and she pulled one out with her teeth before holding the box out towards Miranda, one side of her grin raising ever so slightly as Miranda unconsciously backed off a step. "Want one, kid?"

"I-I'm fine," Miranda muttered, quickly beginning to eat again before the offer could be repeated.

"Apple a day an' all that, huh?" Veronica smiled, her hand replacing the cigarette pack with a lighter. Miranda couldn't tell from where she was now, but back on her first day, she'd seen it up close, knew it was carved with a rather intricate pattern of vines and leaves and thorns, all centered around a dark rose. "Guess you -are- a good lil' girl, ain't ya?"

Miranda almost tried to claim she needed to get going to class, before remembering - as it was apparently so difficult to figure out - that Veronica, of course, went to the same school. Would be pretty hard not to. She knew when classes started. Probably even knew what class Miranda had coming up, how many days she'd been late from accidently spending too long in her room after changing, and what her grade was. Just as likely knew all that for everyone else in the class, as well. How she managed to keep all of it straight, Miranda would never know.

"Suppose," Miranda shrugged after a moment or two of silence. The older girl tapped the ashes from her cigarette out of the window, casual as ever. Miranda assumed that was the sort of thing that came with time - most of the other sixteen year-olds seemed to act almost as relaxed as Veronica did, as if they'd been living there all their lives. Well, other than the twins, but Miranda could hardly blame them for still being a bit on edge. She was pretty sure it would take her more than four years to get used to this place.

"Ever have any luck findin' that person you were lookin' for?" Veronica asked, voice slow and steady, managing not to sound like the question had just come out of nowhere. It hadn't, of course, yet it also didn't seem to have been waiting on the tip of the girl's tongue, waiting for the right moment to spring forth.

Had she been in a worse - or suicidal - mood, Miranda might have considered pointing out that Veronica surely knew the answer already. She wasn't certain, but she thought there might have been a hint of a smirk on her lips as she puffed on her cigarette. Did it make her that happy to ask pointless questions, Miranda wondered, or was there some deeper meaning to it?

'There's only one way to find out,' the voice whispered at her, closer to its old self than it had been in a long time. Veronica must really piss it off, Miranda mused. 'Too bad you're too much of a chicken to do it.'

At one time, there would have been more venom dripping from the phrase. It would have been stronger, more commanding, inescapable. Everything she knew she wasn't, she'd described it to herself once. Everything she should have been. She liked to think it was so weak now because she had finally pushed it away far enough. It was nice to pretend -it- hadn't given up on her, too, even if that had been what she wanted.

She'd taken to calling it the Benu, back when she'd first heard it as a kid. She wasn't entirely sure where that had come from, but it sounded right, so she stuck with it. If it minded, it had never complained. Not about that, anyway.

"Not yet," Miranda shook her head slightly, though the correlation was more a happy coincidence than anything planned, and the barest beginning of a blush crept up her cheeks before she could convince herself the two actions complemented each other, rather than make her look crazy.

"Pity," Veronica's hair tumbled over her shoulders as she shook her head solemnly. "If you could jus' give me a lil' more information, might be I could help you out. Just between us girls, you know." She even winked. Miranda was glad for her sunglasses, to keep Veronica from possibly noticing her roll her eyes. If she'd wanted to help, she'd have done it months ago. Maybe she even had; maybe she wanted to hear Miranda's confession, before she gave her the answer, got to play the hero, got one more thing to hold over the younger girl.

"I can take care of it." Miranda was a bit shocked at how cold the words sounded. A fragment of the Benu, she assumed. It never did have the best timing.

"Sure ya can." Veronica's voice also dropped a few degrees, making it difficult to tell if she was being sarcastic, or if she'd just dropped the 'I'm' from the beginning.

"I..." Miranda started, but the rest of the apology vanished, swallowed by the Benu, or her own nerves. She swallowed, tried again, got the same results.

"You have to get to class, I'm sure," Veronica finished for her, gaze trying to bore through the glasses, until Miranda could practically feel the red and blue ink squirming around her eyes. She didn't trust herself to open her mouth again, so she nodded. "Well, don' let me keep you."

She turned to look out the window, releasing Miranda from the stare, dismissing her. Miranda nearly thanked her, then switched the recipient to the Benu when it kept her mouth shut.

She wasn't feeling particularly hungry anymore, but she took a few more bites from her apple anyway, before throwing it away; she didn't like wasting food. That, and she didn't know if she'd have time for lunch, if she wanted to finish the essay due in the class right after it. She knew she should have stayed up a little longer to work on it, but she'd just been so tired...

There were a good number of students already in the classroom by the time she got there, and a few more were right on her heels. Most of them pretended not to notice her as she shuffled back to her seat, the rest content to watch her silently. She slid her bardiche into the holder at the side of the desk, turning it so its blade faced the back wall of the room, perhaps a foot behind her, then pulled out her notebook and pencil and sat down.

She nearly even had a second to daydream, or at least to pick a subject to fantasize about, before the teacher walked into the room, skirt brushing against the doorframe as she shut herself in with the students. Miranda breathed a sigh of relief at her good luck - she wasn't in the mood to beg to be let in after class had officially begun.

"Well, class," the teacher susurrated. "Let's get started."



Verslaan [2]


History, Miranda had heard it said, is written by the victors. That had made sense to her even before she realized why this was, when she thought it was because the best side of any conflict was the one to pull ahead. Back when she thought that was the side she was on.

She had been relieved of these notions before she came to the school, though never by anything as concrete as she encountered there. It was just little things then, little pieces that didn't quite fit together, answers to the questions she asked her mother that didn't quite make sense.

Still, she couldn't help but be interested by the chance to hear what the other side of history was, the one everyone else had grown up hearing. Surely that would be interesting, if only to see the differences, to see what "real" history was like. Or so she told herself.

She'd come up with all sorts of reasons why not only this, but all of her classes, should have been interesting, why she should like something about them, why she should look forward to all of them. Yet, when they'd actually started, those reasons became increasingly difficult to recall, and even more difficult to reconcile with what actually went on. She didn't particularly -hate- any of her classes, but the only one that came close to the realm of love was the one she shouldn't have been in in the first place.

The victors, it seemed, were much less interested in the parts of history that were... well, interesting. They chose, instead, to focus on all the parts that turned out to be basically the same, no matter what side you heard them from. Miranda did her best to pay attention anyway, if only because the teacher, Ms. Mendelson, was notoriously skilled at noticing students that weren't.

There were some days, however, when it simply wasn't worth the effort.

This shouldn't have been one of those days, but it was turning into one, it appeared. Maybe if she didn't have to worry about the paper she was going to have to write, she could have paid closer attention. This was, of course, the day that she should have been looking forward to, the day she found out what the rest of the world thought of that fateful day.

But she could only make herself hear every few words, as the rest got chased out of her mind with a flood of ideas on how she could possibly make any of the sources she'd found tie into the theme of her paper. She wasn't much for reading - it was just too difficult, and usually only led to a headache - but she'd found all sorts of interesting things when she'd gone to the library for research. Some of them were even vaguely related to her subject.

"The history of the Upuaut tribe is generally unknown," Mrs. Mendelson said breathily, forcing the students around Miranda to lean forward as they scribbled notes - on what, Miranda wasn't sure, since it wasn't like they'd been told anything yet. "They do not believe in recording their past, but rather focus on the future. They have a great number of prophecies recorded, but, as it is their custom to tear any that come true out of their holy books and burn them, we don't know how accurate those prophecies are."

Miranda had heard that the school used to have two history teachers, one for the older students, and one for the younger ones. She hadn't heard what happened to the latter. Supposedly, he was supposed to have been teaching this year, since her schedule had him listed, but apparently he had never shown back up after the summer holidays. Pity - she'd also heard he was pretty cute, for a teacher.

Not that she'd been told any of this. Her roommates were never rude to her, but they had never really clicked, and she'd never gotten the sense that they liked her at all. Most of the time, they seemed a little suspicious of her, even, and, on the few occasions when they would whisper their conversations to each other rather than giggle loudly over them, she was almost certain they were about her. Needless to say, the two girls got along much better with each other than with her. Any gossip she might hear was never actually aimed at her. She just happened to overhear the two of them chattering at each other, picked out the more interesting sounding bits.

"There is, of course, no proof that the Upuaut caused whatever happened on that day, but there is no lack of people who still whole-heartedly believe they did." Maybe it was better that she wasn't paying much attention, Miranda thought. Here she'd been under the impression she might actually hear something she, and everyone else in the room, didn't already know.

She could even fill in for Mrs. Mendelson, should the need arise. "That day" had three names - Miranda found herself wondering which the woman would choose to use, or if she'd simply skirt around the issue as long as she could. There were some who had named it "The Day of Enlightenment," a nice enough name, even if most people didn't really seem to be any more enlightened than ever. It was the newest name, replacing "The Day of Shadows," for most people. Most people here, at least. And maybe everywhere, by now. She liked to think so, as childish a hope as she knew it was.

And there was the Upuaut name for it, a name that changed slightly with whoever said it. For all the versions, however, they all had the same essence. There was only one person old enough to have read that name, but it was hard to know for sure if even she remembered it correctly. There were few who put any stock in her words anymore, might almost make a person feel sorry for her. If that person wasn't Miranda.

Her pencil tapped against the empty notebook page a few times. She should probably at least try to start on working out some stuff now, if she wasn't going to be taking notes. Certainly couldn't hurt, assuming Mrs. Mendelson stayed up at the head of the room, didn't get too interested in what Miranda was writing.

"...most likely caused by the leaders of the Upuaut's sudden offering of help and instruction, saying that the signs had told them it was time for them to do so..."

But it wasn't any easier to make herself start writing here than it had been in her room the night before. Harder, even, in a strange sort of way, even though it was just one woman's rather soft voice interrupting her train of thought, rather than two overly chatty girls her own age. Mrs. Mendelson's voice had a vaguely hypnotic effect to it; even when you could barely hear it, it was almost impossible to ignore completely. Miranda supposed that was why she taught one of the most boring classes. Or maybe she just liked it, hard as that was to imagine.

Miranda checked to make sure Mrs. Mendelson wasn't looking in her direction, then quickly flipped to the last few pages of the notebook, to the list of names. She blinked a couple of times, trying to get them more in focus - had her writing, bad as it was, gotten smudged the other day, when she'd been studying outside and gotten rained on?

Not that it really mattered. She knew the names by heart. There were a few towards the bottom that had been added, then scratched out, then rewritten, but the ones at the top hadn't changed for nearly six months. They were her real suspects.

She barely noticed a hand, silver bracelet glittering in the sunlight streaming in through the narrow windows, raise, heard the voice of one of her roommates, Silvia Vann, the third name on her list. "Isn't there some theory about the Day of Shadows being some kind of... umm... hairbinger or something... of the Apocalypse?"

Miranda wasn't sure if she should be amused or annoyed - moat likely, if Silvia was using that term, she knew full well what she was talking about. Miranda, on the other hand, didn't really. She'd only heard about it in passing. She shifted in her seat slightly, noticed quite a few of her classmates doing the same.

Mrs. Mendelson seemed to be having the same problem as Miranda, judging from the strange smile on her face as she said, "It's harbinger, Miss Vann." Miranda almost wished she sat closer to her roommate, so she could see her blush now. "And, yes, there were theories, from most of the major religions, at the start. Actually, that's where the term 'Day of Enlightenment' originated, though with a different context than its used in now."

Silvia raised her hand again as Mrs. Mendelson started to go back to what she had been talking about before, didn't wait to be acknowledged before asking, "What was it?"

Mrs. Mendelson blinked, annoyance clearly starting to outweigh the amusement in her eyes. "What was -what-, Miss Vann?"

Silvia had the sense to squirm a bit under the teacher's gaze, not enough to let it go. "What was the context?"

Miranda wasn't entirely sure, but she thought she might have heard a tiny sigh before Mrs. Mendelson answered. "There were a few sects that believed what happened to be a sort of forced enlightenment, comparing it to their stories of the Garden of Eden. According to them, the whole thing was orchestrated in order to force God's hand."

"And make Him end the world?" Silvia didn't even raise her hand anymore. In her mind, Miranda saw a smile slowly forming on her face.

"According to the theory, yes."

"Isn't that kind of... evil?"

The sigh was much clearer this time, singing of debates the woman was holding back, about frustration at the naivete of this child and the term it had chosen. "It could be seen that way, of course." There was a flicker of movement in her hands, as if they were trying to reach upwards, perhaps towards the necklace hanging around her neck, and then she was still. "But that isn't what this class is about, Miss Vann."

"Yes, Mrs. Mendelson." Miranda supposed Silvia might have been trying to sound apologetic, but all she heard was the smugness, positively dripping from the words. She was surprised the girl didn't turn around to look at her; probably would have if Mrs. Mendelson wasn't still glaring straight at her.

"If you're so interested in the subject, Miss Vann, perhaps you should write an essay on it..." Luckily, the sound of bells echoed through the room before Mrs. Mendelson could decide that perhaps the whole class should do that, and the students quickly gathered their things and left, not giving her any more of a chance.

The names stared up at Miranda from the page as she stood up, picked up her bardiche. There was always so much to do; she was beginning to wonder if she'd ever really have time to sit down and figure it out. Maybe it was better that way. She still didn't know what she was going to do with the answer, once she found it. If she did anything.

'Of course you won't do anything,' the Benu whispered. 'Too afraid to get your hands dirty.'

She ignored it for a moment, before rationalizing it to herself. It wasn't that she was afraid - no, that wasn't it. She just couldn't risk getting thrown out, sent home. Not over this. Not over anything, really. At best, she could tell the headmistress what she'd found, and hope she did something about it, but as to taking matters in her own hands... That wasn't the best idea.

So she flipped the notebook closed, covering up the list, though she could still see it in her mind, sitting there, waiting. Waiting for her to mark off all the names but one. For as little as she'd discovered so far, she'd spent quite a lot of time looking at that page, much more time thinking about it. It was practically engraved in her brain, from the latest batch of blacked out temporary names at the bottom, all the way up to the top, to the circled name at the top. To the name "Veronica Holloway".

"Is there something you wanted to talk about, Miss Tomlinson?"

Miranda looked up in surprise, having practically forgotten she wasn't alone. "Oh... umm... No, Mrs. Mendelson."

She was expecting to be allowed to escape quietly after that. She very nearly did, until she was right at the door. "Are you... all right?"

Miranda blinked, shrugged. "Y-Yeah," she said uncertainly. "Yeah. I'm fine."

Lycka [3]


Miranda swayed to one side, a little annoyed that she hadn't even thought to raise her bardiche until she felt the halberd slice into the space she'd just been occupying. To make up for it, after knocking aside the next hasty thrust, she quickly stepped off in the opposite direction, letting the bardiche continue with the movement, letting it arc around her, and then back towards its target.

She wasn't quite as fast as she'd imagined, or so the jolt that ran up her arms told her as the halberd blocked her swing. 'Now,' the Benu hissed inside her. The bardiche danced back in the opposite direction, then suddenly downward. She could feel the Benu's annoyance, had enough time to wonder what she'd messed up this time before she heard the teacher's voice.

"Slow down, kids!" it yelled. It came from the mouth of a rather nice, and still qualified to be considered young for a few years yet, man. He looked very much like he had no business being around weaponry of any kind. For some reason, when she'd seen him on her first day, with the rest of the teachers, she'd assumed he taught math. Everything about him, right up to his hair, seemed almost wiry, at least at first glance. After that, he could almost look more like beaten metal, much tougher than it let on, if not for his voice.

He always sounded so nervous; Miranda wondered if it was just that he always -was- nervous whenever she was here, even though he had personally offered to let her join his class, bending the rules for her. Even though he must surely know the worst she was risking was a few bruises, hardly worth all the fuss he made. Still, she couldn't quite bring herself to feel offended at this, to wonder if he wasn't having second thoughts after all. The Benu did that for her, leaving her free to remind herself he was the same with the rest of the students, at least when she was around.

Her opponent's head nodded almost a foot above hers, shouted an amused, "Sorry, Max!"

"Er... Sorry, Mr. Jacobi," Miranda echoed, shushing the Benu when it called her a suck-up.

Mr. Jacobi just smiled. "No problem, kids, just take it easy. We're not worried about speed right now."

Miranda nodded, even knowing it wasn't true, not really. Not to her, at any rate. Speed was the one thing she had on most of the other students. Well, speed and experience. It always seemed like the former was the most important, but as it was largely the result of the latter, perhaps she was wrong.

It did help her out a little, though, as she came out of her introspection with only a moment to, once again, jump out of the way, not quite understanding the voice in her mind shouting at her to block, not run. She barely managed to take the advice with the next attack, almost got the bardiche knocked from her hands with the one after.

Her hands were tired, she reasoned, after spending so long working on that stupid paper she'd skipped lunch for. She'd very nearly missed the class she had right after as well, which would have truly sucked, since it was the class the essay was for. She somehow managed to scrape it together at the last minute, however, and to make it to her seat just in time to hand it in. It had taken nearly the rest of the class for her to catch her breath, or so it felt.

The rest of her classes hadn't been too bad, really, but, as they seemed to be entering the time of the year when the teachers decided to stop coddling the new kids and hit them with as much homework as humanly possible, she couldn't truly say that she'd enjoyed any of them. Just thinking about it made her shoulders start to tense up again, reminding her how much time she was going to have to spend reading, probably as soon as this class ended, if she didn't want to risk getting in trouble for being up after lights out.

She stumbled a little with the next blow, taking a few steps backward to keep from losing her balance. Usually this class helped her relieve her stress; usually it was the one spot of true fun she had to look forward to. Usually, she wasn't quite so bad at it.

'If you would -concentrate-, you wouldn't be now, either,' the Benu grumped. Miranda knew it was right.

The hardest part had always been trying to block out everything else, to just think about the fight, about the next place she needed to step, the next time to lash out, rather than defend. It wasn't hard to pretend she wasn't concerned with what the other students were up to, if they were watching her. It was a little more difficult to pretend to not be glancing over at Mr. Jacobi every minute or two, to see if he was watching her, as he was, more often than not, if he was impressed, if he approved.

But the real challenge was making it all a reality. Because, while she could fool Mr. Jacobi into believing most of them, her real instructor was harder to convince. They tended to be, when they resided in their pupils' heads.

"All right, all right," Miranda muttered, blushing a bit as her opponent looked at her oddly, leaving himself open for a moment, though not long enough that she was able to take advantage of it, as she was too busy preparing herself, reminding herself of the sound of the ocean, to fill her ears, drowning out the noise from all around her.

And then she closed her eyes, forcing her heart to not begin to race at the last image she'd seen, the halberd climbing upwards. She just had to trust that everything would be okay, that she'd be fine, that...

She saw a flash, to her left - not where it had looked like her opponent would be attacking from, but she knew better than to doubt. She raised the bardiche - or, rather, the bardiche raised, though it hardly felt as if she were doing it at all, somehow. It seemed to take an eternity before she felt the bardiche's shaft jolt with the impact. Everything took longer, in the dark.

She stepped to one side, letting her hearing clear up enough for the sound of her opponent's shuffling feet to reach her ears. She felt a smile tug at her lips as she saw a red splotch appear suddenly in the darkness, down, to the left, and she swang quickly. It didn't connect, but it was close. She could tell the block had been haphazard, weak.

Probably what made the next blow even more fierce. She moved one foot back, steadying herself, spread her hands further apart, caught it, then sliding the bardiche up, catching the blade of the halberd while her opponent's hands were still quivering with the impact. It came free easily, though she was probably lucky it hadn't hit her.

"Freak," she heard him growl at her, anger thick on his voice.

'Ignore it!' the Benu screamed at her. But her eyes shot open anyway, and the sea vanished. She blinked, rage giving way to confusion as she realized her opponent was no longer there. She blinked again, stupidly, as the Benu shouted, 'Behind you, dummy!', blending with the sound of Mr. Jacobi's voice, also raised quite high, at least for him. She turned towards it, a little surprised to see that the missing boy was there, her head still a bit foggy from her sudden break in concentration.

She was on the ground before she felt the pain on the back of her knee, and the gasp of pain interrupted her spitting out of the mouthful of grass she'd gotten in the fall. She didn't need the Benu's urging to roll over, to start to launch herself at the now rather smug looking boy. The only thing she connected with, however, was Mr. Jacobi's hand. Despite everything, she felt herself blushing anew as she felt his fingertips brush against the skin of her neck. She almost started to wonder at the odds of that, seeing as all of the hand below the fingertips was encased in a glove, then got distracted by Mr. Jacobi's sudden change of tone, that she realized was directed at her.

"Y-Yeah, I'm fine," she claimed, halfway considering closing her eyes when they showed her the rest of the class staring at her, for real this time.

"Do you think you can make it over to my bench?" he asked, and she nodded, even though she had no real idea either way. Standing up didn't prove to be quite as painful as she'd feared, however, so she nodded again once she was on her feet, and hobbled over to the bench.

She heard him tell the rest of the class that they were finished for the day, got a few joking thanks as the students passed by. She also heard him starting to scold her opponent, to ask what his problem was, what he was trying to do, but she quickly blocked it out as well she could. As much as she was sure he deserved it, she liked to be able to pretend that Mr. Jacobi wasn't just going after him so fiercely because it was her who had been hurt. Or, rather, she didn't want to think it was simply because of her age.

She must have really pissed the guy off, she mused, gingerly rubbing the spot where a bruise was surely already growing. She didn't think he had it in him to hit her -that- hard. Most of the other students, including him, usually, seemed afraid to risk hitting her with too much force, not with Mr. Jacobi watching. She kind of respected him for it, strangely, even if he had been fueled by anger at the time.

After a few minutes, Mr. Jacobi let the boy go, sat next to Miranda on the bench. There was a silence for a few moments, one she didn't dare break. "Are you sure you're all right?" he asked finally.

"I'm sure," she assured him quickly.

He nodded. "Well, be expecting an apology at the start of the next class."

She almost asked if they could just skip that, then just nodded instead. "All right."

"I'm sorry about this, Miranda, I really am."

"I-It's nothing." She started to chew on her bottom lip; he'd better just be talking about her injury. He'd better not be thinking of kicking her out. "I should probably go get started on homework."

Mr. Jacobi nodded. "If you're sure you're okay."

She got to her feet with a smile, to prove she was. "See ya, Mr. Jacobi."

He opened his mouth, hesitated, opened it again. "Most of these kids don't have training, you know." Miranda turned. "I've taught them a few things, sure, but they aren't like you. If I could, I'd move you to one of the higher level classes, but we're pushing it, even having you here."

She could tell it was a lie. He would never put her up against anyone older than these students. "I know."

"I'm just not sure this is working out." Her heart stopped. "Miranda, I'm sorry about what happened to you, but... We've already had a talk about showing off."

"Yes, sir," she blushed dutifully, staring down at the ground, choking back an "I wasn't!"

"I'll give you another chance, Miranda," he offered, and her heart began to beat again, slowly, tentatively. "But you need to remember that this class isn't just for your benefit. The other kids need to learn something, too, and it isn't how easily you can beat them."

"Yes, sir." Her voice was barely a whisper. She wasn't even sure he heard it, nor did she stick around to find out. She retreated back to her room, where she quickly buried herself in homework, not giving herself a chance to think about anything else.

By the time dinnertime came around, her head was throbbing, the words in her books seeming to smudge together even more than usual, taking even more concentration to differentiate. Veronica waved at her from across the cafeteria, but Miranda wasn't in the mood for her games. The twins stopped talking as she walked by, and she could feel their eyes on her back as she sat at an empty table and wolfed down what little food had appealed to her.

The pain in her knee had started to escalate before she finished, making it even harder to force herself to open her books again, once she was back in her room. She should go to the infirmary, she thought.

Instead, she climbed onto her bed, curled up with a book, and promptly found herself drifting off to sleep, or a close cousin of it. She never got in deep enough to dream, getting drawn back out of it every few minutes when one of her roommates had something particularly loud to say. She knew she wasn't going to get any more reading done, though, and she was hardly going to go change for bed -now-, with the two of them up, and the gods only knew who in the hall. So she laid there, staring blankly at the book and the darkness in the shape of the book, in turn, as her eyes opened and closed lazily.

Finally, they opened to a dark room, free of any of the normal giggling that immediately followed the dousing of her roommates' lamps. Her knee felt a little stiff when she hopped down from her bed, setting the book down on her desk, and her mouth felt dry, but she thought her headache might have gotten a bit better.

She was able to continue with that illusion while she dug through her drawers, getting out her pajamas, and a diaper, while she grabbed her tooth- brush and paste, while she snuck across the room and into the dark hallway - how late -was- it?! - all the way until she opened the bathroom door, getting a good eyeful of light. She fumbled for the light switch for a good minute, but she couldn't remember what side of the door it was on, and finally gave up, the damage done. She might as well just get changed, and get out.

She brushed her teeth first, like she always did, then scurried off to a stall to tape herself into the stupid diaper. She had to redo the tapes, as the diaper nearly fell off of her after the first attempt. She winced at the sound of tape ripping off of plastic, partly because of her headache, mostly because of the sound itself, assuming that anyone who might happen to be passing by the bathroom could hear it, and recognize it. A few moments later, she pulled her panties up over the diaper, and suddenly wondered why she'd bothered with the adjustment, since they would hold the diaper up well enough on their own.

Now that she was diapered, she moved quickly, hurrying to grab her toothbrush from the sink so she could get under her covers, where nobody could see her. Her head didn't like the sudden burst of speed, however, or didn't like being awake for this long, and picked that moment to send her a fresh wave of pain. She groaned slightly, paused to massage her temples, then moving her fingers to the bridge of her nose, cursing under her breath as she knocked her sunglasses off, but not bothering to pick them up just yet.

The throbbing subsided after a few minutes, and she opened her eyes a crack, then a bit more. Her reflection stared back at her, the absence of her glasses letting her see the ring of flames dancing around her eyes, the tiny blue tear underneath the left. She stared at herself dully, eliciting a slow sigh.

And then she noticed her eyes themselves, and she gasped, dropping her clothes, moving closer to the mirror for confirmation. She had been right the first time.

Her eyes were pitch black. Not just the iris, but the entire thing, two orbs of total darkness staring back at her.

Or, rather, not -total- darkness, as that is what she was expecting. Instead, there was now a thin, almost unnoticeable, ring of white around the edge of each of her eyes. She reached a hand slowly up, towards her face, unsure of what she was planning on doing.

She would never find out, either, as the sound of a door closing reminded her where she was, what she was wearing. She scooped her things off of the floor and ran back to her room, keeping her head down so that she didn't see the person she ran into, barked a quick "Sorry!" to, so that maybe they wouldn't see her, or recognize her, anyway.

She got back into bed, not even bothering to put her clothes or anything away, just setting it by her bed in a pile, wanting only to climb under her covers as quickly as possible.

She didn't get much sleep that night.



Oneiros [4]


The house was old, and tired, looking like it was ready to fall over at any moment; its owner looked very much the same. Miranda had been afraid of the old woman for as long as she could remember, and her mother had told her once that, as a baby, she'd always cried whenever the woman was anywhere near her. She'd never had any reason to doubt that - even when she'd gotten older, she usually felt like doing the same thing.

There was just something about her, perhaps the dull blue of her eyes, like a sky warning of storms to come, or perhaps her body, so frail it was almost skeletal, yet radiating immense strength from within. Miranda never could tell what. She only knew that she'd always felt uneasy around her. Her parents, of course, knew the same thing.

Which was why she'd been so confused when they told her she'd been spending the night at her house, why she'd begged them to change their minds, even going so far as to throw a tantrum, even though, as her parents had pointed out to her many times, she was too old for such childish shows of emotion. She'd been certain that her parents had decided they hated her, and that was why they'd done it.

Maybe she was right.

It had started out all right, the old woman just talking, going on and on like old people tended to, just talking about Miranda, which seemed to be one of her favorite subjects. Miranda was too old for squirming, too, especially when she was being spoken to, but it was difficult to stop herself when she had to sit still for so long. Her tummy was growling, too, but it was only polite to wait until the woman was done before asking for something to eat.

If only she could remember why... Her parents always told her she should respect the woman, but then, they also told her that everyone should be respecting -her-. She wasn't entirely clear on what exactly respecting entailed at the time, other than staying quiet when she was being talked to. And not demanding food, even though she was sure her tummy was just about to fold in on itself and vanish into some sort of black hole.

The dying leaves of autumn were scraping against the windows of the house as the wind picked up, sounding more and more like the old woman's voice with every passing moment. Miranda made a token effort to distinguish the two for a little while; she quickly gave up, settling back into the chair and letting her legs start to swing, as they'd been aching to do since she'd sat down.

She had lost herself in the sounds, the blending of voice and noise, when she realized the old woman was waiting for something, watching her, not quite impatiently, but definitely expectantly. Miranda's mind somehow managed to extract the last thing she'd heard the woman say, something about, "You understand?" or some such.

Miranda nodded quickly, feeling a little insulted. Of course she understood - she was the smartest girl in the world. Her parents told her so, and the fact was only confirmed every time she was around any other children her own age, which was, luckily, not very often. Surely, whatever the old woman was babbling on about, she could understand perfectly well.

The old woman was happy to hear it, lips cracking into a jagged, broken smile. "Very good," she cackled. "-Very- good."

Miranda sighed, starting to lose her patience. Whether she should be respected or not, the woman was boring. It was a good thing it was almost bedtime, judging from how dark it had gotten.

But when Miranda glanced over at the one window in the room, she saw that the sun was still shining brightly outside, hanging over the long, empty road leading to the old woman's house. She looked over at the woman again, starting to feel confused, only to find that she was now standing next to the chair. Part of Miranda's mind told her to get up, but that part apparently wasn't speaking to her legs, seeing as they were still swinging back and forth calmly.

"We're not doing this to hurt you," the old woman promised, bending a little closer. "It's your destiny." Miranda nodded; she knew all about destiny.

And that was when the woman raised her hands, holding in each a short, twisted horn, darker than black, appearing to drink in, or perhaps spew out, the shadows that had congregated in the room. Miranda had just enough time to give a jump, throwing herself, rather uselessly, against the back of the chair, before the woman jammed the horns into her eyes.

Miranda sat up with a sharp gasp, which was, in its own way, preferable to the bout of panting that immediately followed as she raised her shaking hands to her face, reminding herself that she was okay now. Her diaper felt a little clammy, almost damp, but so did the rest of her nightclothes. After a minute or two, she lowered her hands to her sides, staring down at her bed, the covers thrown about wildly, listening. Beyond her own rather loud breaths, it didn't seem like her roommates had woken up, unless they were very good at disguising the way they breathed. And, after living with them for six months, Miranda knew they weren't.

Once her own breathing had slowed, she ventured a glance at her clock, hoping to see more of a progression than it had showed her the thousand other times she'd looked at it that night. She'd drifted off a few times, but never for more than half an hour, if that; she'd never realized how long the night was. It always seemed so short when she just slept through it.

She couldn't quite make out the numbers, and, after a couple blinks, had only a very vague idea of what they were. Finally, she just scooted a little closer, sighing softly as they came into focus. She could probably lie back down for a little while, but, even if she hadn't just had that damn dream again, she wouldn't be able to actually get back to sleep again for any decent amount of time before she had to get up and change.

So she reached over, turned off the alarm, picked up her sunglasses, and, quiet as she could be, slipped off her bed to nab some clothes from her dresser, taking the extra time to feel around for her favorite shirt. It was old, and had a few holes in it, and was about two sizes too big for her, but it always made her feel more... secure, almost... to wear it. She had Practicum first thing that day; a little security would not be amiss.

The hallway was still empty when she made her way back to her room, which was still silent except for the sound of two girls' light, calm breathing. Though it bugged her to leave her bed in such a disheveled shape, she preferred that to sitting and staring into the dark while waiting for her roommates to wake up. She had seen enough of darkness.

She had enough time to come back and get her books before going to her second class of the day, so she left them behind, though she certainly hoped they didn't get assigned any tough homework in Theory that she'd need to take notes to remember everything about. The chances of that were fairly slim, fortunately, so she just grabbed her bardiche, slipped on her shoes, and wandered back into the hallway.

She had almost made it all the way past the rows of doors before she heard one of them open, in front of her, curse her luck. Even worse, she recognized the door, and the figure that came out of it. "'Morning, Audrey," she blurted out quickly, not wanting to seem rude as she tried to push past her.

"You're up early," Audrey sniffed. Miranda made the mistake of glancing up from the floor, meeting the older girl's eyes. Somehow, even though they were almost the same height, Audrey always seemed to be looking down at her, making her feel a couple feet shorter. "Bad dreams?"

'Hit her,' the Benu urged. 'You know she deserves it.' Miranda couldn't deny that she was tempted, as she saw the girl's eyes seeming to begin checking her waist. Despite having already gotten out of the stupid diaper, Miranda felt herself tugging at the hem of her shirt.

"Just not very tired," she shrugged.

"Well, the cafeteria isn't open yet," Audrey told her, her voice taking on a lecturing tone very similar to Miss Mendelson's.

"I know that," Miranda snapped before she could stop herself. It wasn't like she'd just gotten here, after all.

"Well, sorry, your highness," the older girl rolled her eyes, starting to walk off towards the bathroom, muttering something about cranky little kids. The Benu stopped Miranda before she could even think of apologizing, reminding her of the list.

The cafeteria was, of course, closed when she got to it, but the big, stone benches to either side of the doors were empty, other than some boy, a second-year by the look of him, snoozing on one of them. Miranda perched on the edge of the other, scanning the halls for any sign of Veronica, who she was not in the mood to run into. She always seemed to be in the cafeteria before Miranda got there, though, and usually back out before Miranda had actually gotten her food.

If her stomach didn't feel so empty after the previous day, she probably would have skipped breakfast, gone straight to the Practicum classroom to get some practice in. Sometimes Mrs. Glinrow would let her leave early if she did that, but she had to be careful with what she worked on - sometimes, the teacher just got angry and made her stay after to be lectured at for trying things that were too dangerous to do without supervision. Miranda was pretty sure Mrs. Glinrow knew about her little incident with the bed her first night; the thought didn't make her happy, but she was a nice enough person that she had never made it onto the list. It just seemed more likely that the headmistress had told her, rather than her being the person behind it.

The sigh that came from behind her didn't belong to Veronica, for which she was thankful, but, instead, from Mitch, as he settled his large frame onto the bench beside her. She glanced away as quickly as she could, once she saw who it was, deciding not to risk a repeat of her conversation with his twin, who Miranda almost suspected of being behind this sudden new arrival into her semi-private waiting spot, though she couldn't imagine why. Mitch was generally calmer than his sister, but neither of them liked Miranda much, and she preferred not to make it any worse with the one who looked like he could squash her like a bug.

She scooted a bit closer to the opposite end of the bench, shivering as a cold wind, like someone had just opened a window down one of the halls, began to blow on her. She shot a very brief dirty look in Mitch's direction while she burrowed her hands into her shirt sleeves, kept her mouth shut. He did the same, and so they waited. Miranda's eyes flickered towards Mitch every minute or two, certain he was planning something, but he seemed to be just sitting there, looking bored.

Miranda was pretty sure she had never seen the cafeteria look so empty, once the doors finally opened, and it felt both odd and kind of nice to be able to get food without waiting in a huge line, and to eat in relative silence, rather than being surrounded by the constant chatter that had filled the room every other time she'd been in it. It was just about enough to tempt her to wake up early every morning.

Audrey came in at about the time Miranda was leaving - what took her so long, Miranda had no idea - and gave her a nice, icy glare from across the room. For her part, Miranda was just glad she wasn't any closer, so that she might be tempted to trip her when she got up, or anything like that. She seemed to be in an even worse mood than usual. And Audrey was, most likely, convinced it was Miranda's fault, and willing to take it out on her whether it was or not. The last time she'd been like this, she'd "accidently" pushed Miranda into the lake, and then insisted that the reason she didn't help her out was that she couldn't swim.

The Practicum classroom was even more empty than the cafeteria, and a much less likely place to run into people that wished her harm, at least that she could prove. The headache from the day before was starting to reappear, however, so she wasn't in the mood for practicing. Instead, she just sat down in one of the desks around the perimeter of the room and put her head down. She didn't plan on going back to sleep, but somehow it happened anyway.

At one time, she'd been afraid of taking naps like that, scared that somehow the headmistress would find out about her sleeping without a diaper, and she'd be in trouble. For some reason, she was certain that "trouble" in that case would consist of her being sentenced to diapers all the time, or somehow kept from sleeping except for at night. After accidently falling asleep in one class, however, she'd realized how silly she was being - it wasn't, after all, like the headmistress saw -everything-. If she did, then most likely she'd have let Miranda out of this stupid punishment already in the first place.

Thankfully, the house and the old woman left her alone this time, moving back into the dark mists of her mind, waiting for another time. Instead, Miranda found herself in the middle of a battlefield, her hands, despite their insistence on constantly changing sizes, wrapped tight around the handle of her weapon, which was also trying to change, unsure as to just what sort of weapon it should be. Every once in a while, it was her bardiche, but more often, it was a sword, blade almost as tall as she was, occasionally a warhammer, head covered in spikes.

The enemy, for one, had decided on a shape and stuck with it, but that was likely because there were so many of them, each of them different. She was pretty sure there had been an army on her side at one point, too, yet there was no sign of them, no matter how long she stayed there, fending off attack after attack.

She didn't need an army, she needed no help; she felt her arms growing tired, felt her heart grow scared, lonely. She couldn't die, could never be defeated; she couldn't keep fighting forever. The song of battle rang in her blood, crescendoing with every swing of her weapon; her stomach turned at the sight of the bodies laid out at her feet, and all those in front of her who would soon join them, if she didn't.

She felt something stirring in her chest, and her hands clenched her weapon even more tightly, as it finally chose its shape, the shadow of the curved blade of the scythe flickering over the sea of foes in front of her. For a moment, she wondered where the light to make the shade was coming from, before she realized it was coming from her.

She was on fire, she observed, feeling rather calm about the whole thing. She wasn't burning - she was simply covered in flames. She raised her eyes to the horizon with a hint of a smile, and then everything before them was engulfed in the inferno.


Celszerum [5]


Miranda awoke suddenly to what she could have sworn was the feel of a rush of water against her skin. She sat up quickly, somewhat surprised at how light her room was, and how much larger, and more empty, it had seemed to get overnight. Her memory of that morning slowly began to come back as she saw Mrs. Glinrow sitting at the desk beside her, watching her.

"Oh!" Miranda blushed, hurriedly straightening out her shirt, trying to make it seem as if she hadn't just woken up, even though the teacher obviously knew the truth. The room seemed to have a faint smell of smoke, but, by the time she dared to glance back up, it was gone, if it had ever really existed in the first place. "Good morning, Mrs. Glinrow," she said uncertainly.

Mrs. Glinrow smiled at her, eyes twinkling for a moment before resuming their stern gaze. She had always been one of the easiest teachers for Miranda to read, but, at the same time, it seemed as if her mood was constantly changing, always flowing. Her appearance, in its own way, was the same - every time she looked at her, there was something she hadn't noticed before, something that seemed perhaps slightly different than it had been the last time Miranda had seen her. She had a feeling that, even if she wasn't absolutely horrid at guessing the age of grown-ups, she would have no idea how old Mrs. Glinrow was.

"I-I didn't sleep through class, did I?" Miranda asked, already preparing herself to dash out of the desk and all the way to her room, so that she could run to the other side of the school for her next class, if she hadn't missed that one, too, once Mrs. Glinrow had finished with her inevitable lecture.

"No, not at all," Mrs. Glinrow shook her head. "But I think we need..."

Two pairs of feet clunking against the stone floor of the room interrupted the teacher, and both she and Miranda looked to the open door to see Silvia and Agnes, Miranda's roommates, chattering to each other, as they seemed to spend every waking moment. Miranda stared over at Mrs. Glinrow pleadingly, and the woman nodded.

"We'll talk after class," she promised, getting up from the desk to greet the two newcomers on her way to the chalkboard. Miranda nodded uncertainly, even though Mrs. Glinrow's back was to her by then, before turning in her seat to watch the trees blowing softly in the breeze outside the window. Well, as long as she didn't have too much to say, it would be all right, or else Miranda'd end up running around the whole school that day after all.

"You were up early today."

It took Miranda a few moments to realize Agnes's words were directed at her; by the time her gaze had moved from the window to her roommate, the latter was just starting to walk away. "A little," Miranda admitted. To be honest, she was a bit surprised Agnes, and Silvia apparently, as she was also standing there, had noticed.

"We were worried about you," Silvia chimed in, her voice sounding almost sincere. Miranda's suspicions began to flare up as the girl continued, "Are you feeling all right?"

"I'm fine," she answered defensively.

Agnes and Silvia shared a shrug before claiming they were glad and wandering off to the other side of the classroom. Miranda had no doubt they were talking about her. Part of her was glad they were too far away for her to eavesdrop on, but most of her was curious. Had they been expecting her -not- to be fine? Had she unknowingly foiled some plot of theirs? Seeing the two of them sitting there, heads together, stealing the occasional glance over at her, Miranda wished she hadn't left her notebook in her room; even though she'd probably just end up moving them again next time she ran into Veronica, she wanted to put those two at the top of the list.

The other students began to trickle in, led by a boy that Miranda was pretty sure had a crush on one of her roommates, a suspicion only strengthened by his insistence of sitting on the opposite side of the room, like he was afraid of getting too close to them. To her knowledge, he'd never spoken to either of them, though he'd once talked to her, sort of. It had been mostly an apology, after bumping into her in the hallway, but he hadn't sounded particularly sorry.

Miranda began to fiddle with her bardiche, somehow convinced that doing so would make people less likely to notice it than if she'd left it sitting by her desk. Even though, by this time, everyone in the class surely knew she had it, she still felt nervous, almost embarrassed, by it during Practicum. It didn't bother her as much during her other classes, for whatever odd reason, even though it was more out of place then. Perhaps because the other students didn't always bring their Loci to those, so she didn't have anything to compare hers to.

Glancing around the room, Miranda saw mostly brooms, especially with the non-Upuauts, probably at least partly because their parents didn't quite understand how it all worked, and just went with the good old stereotype. Some of them likely still thought it was the -only- thing they could use, though there were a few simple staffs. There were even a few actual wands, here and there though none as thin or elegant as the one resting on Mrs. Glinrow's desk. The owners of those generally struck Miranda as being hugely overconfident in their own abilities; she was fairly sure that, by the time the school year was over, most of those wands would end up being replaced, likely more than once.

After all, they were going to be getting into some difficult stuff soon, things that would probably be too much for an inexperienced user and such a small Locus. Back home, she had never seen anybody younger than her parents who dared to use one - they knew that they simply hadn't gotten good enough to rely so little on their Loci before then. Not these kids, though. They were certain they could handle it just fine, and eventually, Miranda knew, they'd find out how wrong they were. Her father used to rant about it all the time, how the community was growing weaker and weaker because people kept buying wands for their kids, before they were ready.

Miranda still agreed with that, in principle, though now she caught herself wishing she had one herself, never mind the risk. She wouldn't mind the drain that came with the loss of a Locus, just as long as that Locus was something normal. Nobody else in her class had a weapon - they might end up with one eventually, but that wouldn't be for, at the very least, several years. They hadn't been given their Locus as a child, whether they liked it or not. She didn't even want to think about what would happen if the bardiche got somehow broken now, after so long. Would she have any power left at all? She had passed the bonding stage long ago, to the point where she -had- to take it with her wherever she went, and she had heard once that by the time that process started, general power loss was -at least- twenty-five percent. She'd even heard once that sometimes people lost -all- their power.

She was probably the only one in the room worrying about that sort of thing, she pondered, watching her classmates talk and laugh at each other, leaning over their desks for a quick whisper, some of them even pulling their seats around into a little circle. She was also probably the only one who needed to worry about it, she thought glumly.

Mrs. Glinrow let the other students commingle for a few minutes longer - she must not have too much for them to do, Miranda thought - before calling everyone's attention to her with a small flash in the middle of the room. Hardly the most impressive display, but not horrible, given her Element. Miranda had met a lot of Waters, full grown ones at that, who couldn't so much as light a match.

For once the class settled down almost immediately, rather than making the teacher remind them to do so, thus leaving her free to start her explanation of the day's work. As Miranda had suspected, it wasn't anything difficult, mostly just a review, since there was supposed to be an evaluation next week. She had a list of things she wanted them all to work on written on the board, but she must have written too small, because Miranda couldn't quite make most of the words out. No matter... She was pretty sure she knew what areas she needed to improve in.

Once Mrs. Glinrow was finished talking, Miranda picked up her bardiche, hoping to impress the teacher by getting straight to work, rather than hesitating like everyone else, glancing around at their neighbors, looking as if they'd rather be continuing their inane little chattering.

The flame, like any other, started as an idea. At the first class, Mrs. Glinrow had explained that, at this point, it was wholly within her - she had even been using Miranda as the example when she explained it, which had made her blush a bit - waiting to find its way out. That was, of course, what Loci were for. It was easiest with something long and straight, as that made the simplest path. How Mr. Jacobi managed it with his glove, Miranda had no idea, but it only made her admire him more.

The fire popped into existence in front of her, floating in mid-air after dropping suddenly right after its appearance, before she could manipulate the air underneath to catch it. The flame almost went out when her concentration slipped towards that, but she managed to reinvigorate it just in time. There was, in theory, a way to make fire hang in mid-air on its own, but Miranda had no idea what it was, though she wished she did - air was one of her weaker Elements, though she was certainly better with it than water. You'd think, seeing as she was a Fire, she'd have figured it out by now, but the answer kept eluding her, no matter how hard she tried. It would have been nice if it somehow had something to do with earth, as she was decent with that, but she doubted it, since that would hardly make any sense.

Her flame flickered again as she nearly began to giggle, her mind wandering to a conversation she'd overheard after her fighting class a few days before. Something about how one of them was sure that they were really a Light, not an Air. She had never understood these peoples' silly obsession with the number three, nor their need to force the Elements to fit in with it by adding Light and Dark to them, even though there was no actual proof that anyone could actually manipulate them. She'd even heard speculation that there were three other Elements nobody had discovered yet, so as to bring the total to nine. It was all rather silly.

'But it isn't,' the Benu told her strictly, 'what you're supposed to be thinking about right now.'

Miranda blushed, but couldn't deny that. There was now no fire in front of her, though she could see a few around her as the other students got to work. Agnes's, in particular, looked rather impressive.

'Stand up,' the Benu instructed her. 'Don't be lazy; do it right.'

If she wouldn't have looked rather odd doing it, she'd have stuck out her tongue. Instead, she ignored the voice - though she did sit up a little straighter - and got back to work. The flame was a little bigger this time, which made things easier on her when she went to extend it. Making a line wasn't -too- bad, but she took her time with it, since making circles -was-, and she wasn't particularly looking forward to that.

'It wouldn't be so hard if you'd just stand up like a proper mage,' the Benu scolded, sounding almost grumpy.

Maybe it was right, but Miranda didn't feel like listening to it, so she struggled on without its help. By the time Mrs. Glinrow dismissed the class, she had gotten frustrated enough with being completely unable to get the fire and the air to curve at the same time that she almost forgot that the teacher wanted to talk to her, until she got stopped on her way out the door.

"Miranda, dear, could you stay behind for a minute?"

Miranda winced, but nodded, not having the guts to just dash out into the hall. She walked over to Mrs. Glinrow's desk expectantly, as the teacher lifted a pair of erasers with a strand of air and began to erase the chalkboard. Miranda was a bit shocked to see how large the writing had been, a bad feeling growing in the pit of her stomach as she glanced over at her desk, wondering why she hadn't been able to read it from there.

"Would you like to sit down?" Mrs. Glinrow asked. Miranda shook her head, hoping this talk might go faster if she stayed standing. She felt rather triumphant as Mrs. Glinrow shrugged and said "Well, this will only take a minute."

About that long passed before Miranda realized the teacher was waiting for something before continuing. She nodded with an, "Okay," that seemed to be good enough.

"I know this isn't something you can easily control, dear, but you need to work on keeping a better watch on what you dream."

Miranda's brow furrowed. "What I dream?" What did that have to do with anything? And how was that Mrs. Glinrow's business?

"You just about set your desk on fire this morning while you were asleep. I happened to come by in time to put it out, this time, but if you're having that sort of problem..."

"I'm not!" Miranda told her quickly.

"Are you sure, dear?" Mrs. Glinrow looked into her eyes, as if searching them for any evidence she might be lying.

"I'm sure."

"What about...?"

Miranda didn't even give her the chance to finish, cutting her off with an almost angry, "It wasn't the same!" that made her feel bad almost as soon as it had left her lips.

Mrs. Glinrow nodded. "If you say so. But if it does happen again..."

"I'll tell you," Miranda promised quietly. It wasn't necessarily a lie... Just probably. The last thing she needed was to give the headmistress, who Mrs. Glinrow would surely tell if there -were- any other incidents, reason to believe that there was something -else- she couldn't control at night. If, of course, she didn't -already- think that.

She made a stop in the bathroom, once Mrs. Glinrow released her, before grabbing her books for her next class from her room. It was surprisingly empty, enough so that she couldn't help but take off her sunglasses, wanting to see if she had simply been imagining things the night before. The white stripe was still there. It might have been a little bigger, in fact. The bad feeling escaped from the pit of her stomach and swallowed her internal organs whole.

"What's going on?" she whispered, but the Benu refused to answer, leaving her to try to figure it out on her own.

Was there something wrong with her? She hadn't been feeling well the past few days, after all, so maybe there was some kind of a connection. She could see if the nurse knew anything, but that wasn't too likely. She'd seen her eyes once before, and all she could say about them was that she'd never seen that sort of enchantment before. Not what she was looking for.

And what if there really -was- something wrong? Something bad? Or even just something that -might- be something bad? The nurse would probably have to tell the headmistress about it, and if -she- couldn't figure out what was going on, would she let Miranda stay there? After all, what if she had some sort of new infectious disease? They'd probably send her home, then, and that wasn't what she wanted at all.

She could always go to the library, she supposed. They had all sorts of books - maybe there was something in one of them about what was happening to her, or even just about the enchantment. But it was almost like a labyrinth in there, if you weren't used to it. And, even in the best of times, trying to read the tiny text in a lot of the books was difficult. It had been even harder than usual the night before, and she had a feeling that any change that had happened since then had been for the worse.

Still, that was probably her best bet, for the time being, no matter how impossible it seemed. And impossible it likely was.

At least as long as she tried to do it on her own.

[Elizabeth]

Inizio [6]


~Six Months Earlier~


[6.1] Ragno


Veronica reached for her lighter as the wind blew lightly around her, wishing, for a moment, as she was prone to do at times, that she had been born a Fire rather than a Water. But, as she brought it out of her pocket, flicked it open, she knew that she would miss carrying it around. It was a pretty thing, all silver, with a rose engraved on one side, and had probably cost a pretty penny, not that she'd know.

She'd gotten it before she picked up smoking, back when she was just a kid. It had caught her eye at the house of one of the people she worked for, so she'd taken it, as she had been prone to do, perhaps a little too quickly. But that was all in the past now, and the previous owner had likely forgotten all about it.

Maybe she had taken up smoking -because- of the lighter, she pondered as she lifted the flame up to the cigarette, breathed in. It hadn't had much of a purpose before then, and that had been kind of sad, really, for something as beautiful as it.

She glanced behind her, though she hadn't really expected to find anyone. There were a few good places around the school to smoke; this wasn't usually one of them, but she was quite fond of it, and took any opportunity she could to use it, when she thought it was safe enough. Besides, everyone was busy getting settled, and helping the new kids find their way, or they had been a few minutes ago, before she'd given in to her temptation, and decided to give herself a bit of a break from scoping out the newbies. They'd still be there when she was done, unless, of course, lunch was closer than she thought.

She blew smoke upwards, into the bright blue sky. Her roommates were probably in their room by now, she knew. She might have time to go see who they were. To go play the good girl and introduce herself, tell them how pleased she was to be living with them this year.

She took another drag. The wind blew against her face, a little harder now, but she didn't mind. In fact, she turned, facing it head on, eyes closed, not caring that she was leaving herself completely blind to the hallway behind her.

Sometimes, much more often, she wished she'd been Air. She'd heard every lecture her parents could give on how her Element was a gift, how Water flowed free, how it broke through the Earth when it needed, and doused Fire, could drive Air out. But she knew that, at the heart of it, it was Air that was truly free.

Veronica turned suddenly as she heard footsteps, quickly taking the cigarette out of her mouth, and replacing it again as she realized they were too light to belong to a staff member. And, sure enough, a few moments later a little girl came up the stairs, stepped tentatively into the shadows of the hallway leading to her balcony.

She had an odd look to her, and Veronica would have been willing to bet that she was a new student, as she was certain she hadn't seen her before, though for a moment, she almost would have sworn it was a younger Audrey - same skin tone, if a little darker, same slight point to her ears. Probably the same exotic-looking eyes, except the girl had hers covered with a pair of sunglasses, in the middle of the day, and it looked like she'd drawn something on her face. Veronica couldn't help but roll her eyes at this, wondering where exactly kids got the idea that those sorts of things made them look cool. 'What a loser.'

She was about to turn back around and ignore the other girl when she noticed the weapon she carried, something she couldn't put a name to, but didn't need to in order to see that it had likely been an extremely expensive piece of work. Which probably meant that the girl came from a well to do family; that did nothing to endear her to Veronica any further.

But, at the same time, she noticed that the girl didn't dress like any rich kid she'd ever met, nor like she'd given a lot of thought to it. Veronica took another drag off her cigarette, deep in thought. Perhaps there was more to this girl than met the eye.

"Hey, kid!" she called, watching as the girl, starting to retreat back into the school, probably too scared to intrude on an older student. "C'mere."

The girl paused, stood in one place for what seemed like forever, and finally complied, though she moved damn slow. "H-Hello," she said quietly, her smile quavering slightly. Veronica felt her nervousness wash over her like a wave, tinged with sadness, regret, a few tattered remains of pride, and a healthy dose of anger.

'Interesting,' Veronica thought with her own smile. "My name's Veronica Holloway. You're new here, right?" The girl took her hand cautiously, nodding. Veronica could see now that the things under her left eyes was a water drop, or maybe a tear, shimmering in a way that made Veronica feel a bit uneasy looking at them. The girl hadn't done those herself, no way... That was rather specialized magick, and not the type she'd have expected to find on anyone here, least of all someone this young. "Are you Water, too?" she asked, suddenly realizing she'd been staring at the tattoos when she felt the girl growing much more uncomfortable.

She shook her head, long red hair dancing around her shoulders like flames in the breeze, and Veronica realized how stupid a question it had been, though, luckily, the girl didn't. "I'm Fire," she spoke up at last. "Miranda."

She hadn't answered all the questions, but Veronica didn't really need her to. "Nice name," she told her, plucking a cigarette from behind the box in her pocket and holding it out. "You want a smoke, kid?"

Miranda took it, but Veronica sensed it wasn't because she wanted to. She felt afraid, even, though Veronica couldn't tell if it was of her or what she offered. Either seemed pretty likely, since she held the cigarette like she'd never seen one before in her life. Strangely enough, even though Miranda seemed to be looking straight forward, Veronica was certain she was watching her, trying to tell what she was supposed to do next. Her hand began to move jerkily towards her mouth after a few long moments, made it almost halfway there.

"What... umm... What year are you?" she asked, letting her hand fall back down slightly.

"I been here five years, if you can believe that." Veronica found it hard herself. "Which I s'pose means technically I should be tellin' you how to get to your room an' all that." Probably half her classmates had already wandered off by now; it was hardly the most exciting thing to be doing, the first day back, but -somebody- had to do it. Gods forbid the teachers actually help out.

"Oh, I know where it is," the girl said quickly, before her ears began to turn red.

"Had a fight with the roomies already?" Veronica let her voice soften, sounding as concerned as she could over what was surely a huge tragedy in little kid land.

Miranda laughed nervously, her hand now back down at her side, fingers fiddling with the cigarette between them. "Not yet." Veronica raised an eyebrow. "I haven't actually gone inside yet."

"My, my, ran off on your guide, huh?" Veronica couldn't help but laugh. "Ain't you the little rebel?"

The girl blushed again. "Well, he kinda left me first."

"Let me guess," Veronica puffed. "Crispin, right?"

There was a pause, during which Veronica imagined the girl blinking behind those big sunglasses. "How'd you know?"

For a moment, she entertained the notion of playing herself up as some kind of mind-reader. In the end, however, she decided it might be better -not- to scare the kid off quite so soon. "It's just the kinda thing he'd do." Not that plenty of her other classmaters wouldn't have; Crispin was just the most likely to wait so long before doing so to keep from feeling too guilty. It was almost cute, in a wishy-washy sort of way.

"He said he had other people to help."

Crispin had a rather... interesting way of defining help, one which Veronica wasn't about to share with some twelve - if she was even that old yet - year old kid. So she just nodded, though in her mind she was already wondering just which of his three girlfriends he was "helping". At times, she almost felt guilty for helping him keep those three secret from one another, but, then, she kept much bigger secrets, and he was too good at Numerology for her to let go of just yet.

In the silence, Miranda had lifted her hand and dropped it a few more times, eventually putting it behind her back, as if hiding it would make Veronica forget what happened two minutes before. "I-I should probably get back there," she announced suddenly, her hand finally darting to the pocket of her jeans, looking horribly relieved.

Veronica shrugged; Miranda was all too willing to take that as agreement. "See you around," she smiled awkwardly. "Umm... Thanks..." She turned so fast Veronica was certain she was going to fall, especially when, just as quickly, she turned again. "Nice to meet you," she squeaked. She almost sounded convincing, but mostly like she was out of practice.

"You, too," Veronica grinned as the girl practically broke into a run, back towards the steps. She stopped only briefly for the "Hey, good luck with your roomies!" Veronica called after her, and then she was gone.

"Very interesting," she murmured to herself, listening to Miranda's footsteps echoing through the halls.



[6.2] Argento


It was, quite possibly, the greatest day of Silvia's life. Sure, she hoped that the days that came as a direct result of that one would be better - in fact, that hope was a large part of what made the day so great. But even if they were no so wonderful as she expected, the anticipation of them she experienced on this day would still be there, the memory of the butterflies in her tummy, mixed with the excitement of being plunged into a whole new world, where everything was new and exciting.

Or it would be, surely. So far, her first day at this school had been rather mundane, more than a little like her first day at her last school. She thought she'd seen one of the older students conjure a dragon out of Fire, but she hadn't had time to look at it with more than the corner of her eye, which wasn't known for its truthfulness, as she was dragged through the halls to her room, trailing her suitcase and duffel bag.

Her first sight of the room had been a nice mix of awe and familiarity, with a touch of happiness to see how big it was. In her last school, the rooms were barely big enough to fit two beds and two dressers, and still leave enough room for the occupants to be able to walk to the door. She had been expecting something bigger here, of course, since there were three people per room, but she hadn't expected just how much. If they had wanted to, she bet the school could have gotten twice as many people in there, and each one would still have plenty of space.

Had the room been in her previous school, she'd have wondered why there wasn't a wall constructed to split the room in half. Some of the stones that made up the walls in this school seemed to be nearly as tall as she was, however, though they were fit together in such a way that it was difficult to tell where one ended and the next began. The building was made to stand up to nearly anything - putting up a flimsy partition to double the capacity would hardly seem right. And, of course, it wasn't as if there were enough students to warrant such a thing.

Despite its size, it wasn't the most comforting of places, its tiny windows barely letting in enough light to chase away all the shadows from the heavy wooden furniture, nicely and sturdily made, but drearily plain. Decoration was certainly in order, she decided, but her first order of business was to take care of the most familiar aspect of the scene - the softly sniffling roommate, dwarfed by the bed she sat on while clutching a stuffed animal for dear life.

Silvia set her bags down carefully, smiling. She expected to have to break the ice herself, but the other girl glanced up from her doll - a cat, Silvia saw - with a blink. "D-Do you want this bed?" she asked, already starting to get up. "I didn't mean to claim it before you got here, I just..."

Silvia quickly shook her head. "No, that one's fine," she said, gesturing towards one of the empty beds. The girl nodded, sank back onto her own bed. Silvia could tell she was trying not to cry, now that she wasn't alone, decided to start unpacking so it didn't seem as if she were watching. There was a part of her that wished she could join in, and another part that missed her own collection of stuffed animals that she'd somehow convinced herself to leave at home, sure that she was too old for them now. Instead, she found herself starting to toy with the silver bracelet around her wrist, which was hardly as comforting as Mr. Wubbly the Frog.

"I'm Silvia," she spoke up, making herself unzip her suitcase before she got too caught up with reminding herself what she missed from home. It took the other girl a few moments to answer, as she'd anticipated, giving her time to pull open the bottom drawer of her dresser and slip a few things inside.

"Agnes," the girl answered.

Silvia turned back around to face her, smiling. "Nice to meet you." Agnes nodded in reply, but that was about it, so Silvia continued to empty out her suitcase, taking her time to come up with her next question.

To her surprise, she never got the chance to use it. She was about halfway through the suitcase when she heard Agnes's voice, and she stopped to glance over at her. "How long have you known?" came the inquiry, quickly followed with, "You know, that you were a..." when the girl saw the perplexed expression on her roommate's face.

"A mage?" Silvia finished for her. She was tempted to answer with, "Oh, I've always known," but she didn't know how true that would be. She had always -hoped- she was. Hope, however, did not equal knowledge. "A couple months," she said instead. "I was at the lake with my parents, and my dad dropped his watch in, and I just kinda... got the water to give it back." That wasn't exactly how it happened, but a small fib or two never hurt anyone.

They even seemed to have helped, as Agnes had forgotten her sadness in favor of watching Silvia with wide eyes. "You're good with Water, too? That's really rare."

Silvia blushed. "Well, not exactly," she shrugged. "It isn't so much 'too'...." It was Agnes's turn to look perplexed then. "That's my Element," Silvia confessed after a minute, hoping that the girl had simply forgotten that one of the teachers, or someone, had mentioned the situation to her already. But apparently nobody had, or her memory was rather shoddy.

"Oh." There was the barest hint of disdain, perhaps, though it was hard to tell with only one syllable to judge by.

"They admitted me late," Silvia explained hurriedly. "All the Water rooms were full already."

Agnes's head nodded slowly. "So is our other roomie..."

"I think she's a Fire, too," Silvia shrugged, attempting to keep from sounding saddened by that. She hated to be the odd one out, but with this arrangement, it hardly seemed as if she'd have a choice in the matter. Agnes went quiet again, watching the door, waiting for her -real- roommate to appear.

Silvia wasn't about to let it go at that, however; she wouldn't give up that easily. "How about you? How long have you known?" She fully expected an answer similar to her own, especially when she noticed all the books sitting on her desk, all sorts of basic overviews of magick and such, the sort of things that Silvia didn't expect someone from a mage family would bother with reading.

And yet the answer that she got was a very quiet, "A while." There was more of a story there, quite clearly, and it almost seemed that Agnes was going to tell it to her, until she began to sniffle again, followed closely with her breaking into actual tears.

Silvia got off her bed quickly and shuffled over to her, apologizing all the way. "I didn't mean..." she insisted. Agnes shook her head, but, thankfully, didn't seem upset with -her-. Deciding it was better not to pry, at least at the moment, Silvia gave her a hug, starting off light, in case she had been mistaken, then pulling her in more tightly when she felt arms closing around her. She didn't know how long they stayed like that, or if she had shed a few tears herself.

She didn't go back to her bed once they were finished, nor did Agnes act as if she wished she would. Instead, as if the tears had been some sort of cork she were finally free of, Agnes started to talk. She didn't answer the question, but that was perhaps the only topic she didn't cover, as the words simply poured out of her.

Silvia listened, responded when she could, found herself giggling most of the rest of the time for reasons she couldn't quite understand. After a little while, Agnes caught them as well, which might well have been the only thing that shut her up. After -that- she was quiet again, but not uncomfortably so. Silvia didn't really think she had much to talk about, but she soon found herself telling what little there was to her life history, recounting the adventures she'd had at her last boarding school, no matter how dull they would surely be in comparison to the ones she'd have -here-.

Eventually they both ran out of words, but neither seemed inclined to do anything else, so Silvia borrowed one of the books and started to flip through it, while Agnes watched from beside her. Every once in a while, they'd find an illustration that brought back their giggles, or that caused a joint exclamation of "Ew!", or that simply seemed to beg for a brief conversation, but it was largely a quiet affair. Neither of them seemed to mind, although Silvia felt a bit nervous - when their last roomie arrived, the other Fire, would Agnes ditch her? She liked to think they could all be friends, but if they had the choice, wouldn't they want to be around their own kind? She wasn't precisely sure how that worked, but she had a paranoid feeling it was like that.

They were looking at a picture of a baby and a sword, with some sort of creepy ghost thing in the background - 'soul binding', the caption called it, with some mention of possession later on, though neither one had the chance to read that far - when she finally showed up. She didn't bother to knock, simply burst in and practically ran across the room, carrying nothing but some sort of weapon that Silvia assumed was her Locus, over to the last empty bed, where she yanked open the top drawer.

She paused for a moment then, turned to look at the two girls watching her from the other side of the room. Silvia imagined her blinking, but of course she c