[b][u]Cynn Ellime[/u][/b]
The young elf smiled a tired smile. "At this point, Pitch," she began to answer, "I'm not sure I could do anything anymore. But before I...well, before, I was a Geomancer."

Cynn couldn't help it; she had started to think about before she had entered her coma. She remembered the dining hall in shambles. She remembered standing in front of a masked man, holding her rapier. She wondered where her rapier had gone; she'd have to look for it later, she thought. She remembered being cut and cut by the man for what seemed like hours, never losing faith that she could stop this...murderer. He was a murderer, and she knew that she could take him, either by one way or another. It wasn't the confidence that she had exhibited a few minutes ago, but something different.

Suddenly, she became conscious of her scars. There was the one on her throat from when she'd been ambushed in the woods. It was old, and she paid no real mind to it. Then there were three on her right forearm, and two on her right hand; those made sense, as the murderer probably tried to get her to drop her weapon. Moving that hand left, she felt four more keloids on her lower abdomen and two higher up, with one of those two in the middle of her chest. The puncture scars were easier to find. There were five of those; one where one blade of the masked killer had run through the outside of her left arm; one on the front of her right shoulder; one on her left thigh, and two on her right. Cynn didn't feel shame at the scars. If anything, they filled her with a sense of triumph to know that she had survived that. It wasn't enough to make up for now having to play catch-up with everyone else, but it was something to start with.

Noticing that she must have looked like she was feeling herself up, she jerked her right arm away from her leg and placed it back on the table. Her cheeks flushed red, which was more pronounced when viewed in conjunction with her white hair, despite how dirty it might be. She looked at pitch and tried to talk, but it seemed her social ineptitude had finally caught up to her.

"So, P-Pitch..." she began, cursing herself mentally. "How...long have y-you...studied at this Co-College?"