[center][b]Child, The Ether pre-resurrection-[/b][/center]
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Child was never a magician of any great sort. Her or his talents were not so much conscious efforts as they were terribly forced upon etheral fuckery and poorly managed spiritual links into a broken, fractured mind. She was a shoddy piece of work, a experiment to contact gods that were gone and unreachable. A open invitation to all sorts of magical spirits and creatures. IT was in short, shot to hell inside her head, a vortex of voices cursing her existence.. And here she was, drifting among the realm that wasn't, yet was. A manifestation of magic and souls, of the lost. A place where words held no meaning, yet defined you. A place so strange her words were seemingly plucked from her mouth and given meanings she didn't understand whenever she contemplated it for more then a second. She was not in control but it was strangely nostalgic for the spirit medium. She had dragged minds from here before, she was pretty sure. Yet now she was one of those spirits. A wandering lost soul adrift on a strange sea. The irony was not lost on her and she would have laughed If her etheral form wasn't screaming in pain from the effort of staying coherent.

Her end had been quick, merciful. She could of course, only remember fractions of it. That was usually the case when someone got crushed by a war hammer. Her moves had been slow back there, she had hesitated. She had been sloppy. Perhaps she had wanted it? Wanted to die? Such questions was dangerous in a place like this. She could already feel her soul try and split itself into smaller parts, convert into etherical energy. She composed herself and crawled up. Her knees pulled up to her chest, as she floated. She was dead, but she wanted to take in this strange stillness she felt before she was ready to get eaten by the ether. IT was during this moment that something impossibly bright manifested near her. Shielding her eyes in a vain attempt to look at the creature, she was in front a angel. The light was like the sun, yet she felt no heat. And yet, she felt as if she should have been burned from it none the less.

“Ironic. I find peace and here you are. The gods chosen. Have you come to laugh at me, I who was made in attempt to reach the gods. Yet all I became was another notch in the belt for some brute?” Her sords held no real rancor, just a modicum of spite that she resigned to anything not Herself. She breathed slowly, eyeing the angel wearily.

"No. I've come to spare you. To give you a second chance, as your comrades need you." The angels voice played with her mind, it was so pure, so impossibly clean of intent. She didn't trust it for a second.

“Second chance?” Child, void of her mask here in the ether, had a confused look upon her marred face. She contemplated this for a second or two. This second chance that was given her, could she accept it in good faith. Did she deserve it? And nothing was without a price. “And what is the price?” She said, weary of the Angels true motives.

"Your life is connected to mine." The angel spoke to her and she nodded. Another voice in her head it seemed, another great power tugging at her. She wanted to live, she realized this with staggering intensity and desire growing where her heart should be. Her ethereal body screaming for her to take the deal.

“Deal” She spoke and then there was a flash of light. 

[Center][b]Intermission - Infirmary - Child[/b][/Center]

Her eyes fluttered open slowly, painfully. Her body felt strange. The collapse lunge was no longer collapsed, but breathing was strange to her now. The time in ether had made for her to have to remember how to breathe at first. Shallow breaths as she realized she was without her mask, in the flesh and alive. The first feeling was relief at being back alive. The second was panic over not having her mask. She sat up suddenly. Her nostrils flared, her eyes wide. 

“THE MASK. WHERE IS THE MASK!” Her panic was interrupted by a coughing fit of the likes she never had before. She felt her eyes water and she looked around at the surpised looking healers that had tended to her. Likely there to make sure she was stable, angel or no angel. 

“Get.. me.. a mask.. any.. mask.” She said, covering her face in her hands. The voices began to taunt her, sing songs of mockery in her mind. Tear at her sanity. Of course, there was no mask to be found, she she was reduced to holding her face in her hands and scream until someone provided her with her mask. It was blemished, likely from falling onto the ground at the time of her death. But as soon as she put it on, she calmed down. Her eyes were still wide.

“Where.. Am I..."