Henrietta blushed and looked self-conscious as Timothy asked his question. She coughed and answered, not meeting Timothy's eyes. "About that, um, so far, my mind reading doesn't really have a limit to how far it can extend. I can turn it on and off and I can focus on a particular person if I want to, but for the most part, no one is really able to - um - escape." Henrietta peered sheepishly at Poppy and Timothy. "If it helps, I don't really read anyone's minds at night. The teenage thoughts of hormone ridden boys and girls during aren't exactly the kind of the you want to be seeing." --- The limbs disappeared back into the scarf, vanishing like it was never there. Several older students snickered; they knew what was coming next. "Haaah~ That's so much better," called the voice from earlier . . . from underneath Thisa's skirt. A hand lifted the hem slightly and a short, young man crawled out from underneath. "Thanks for standing Miss! The shadows from skirts are so much easier to exit from!" The young man had spiky black hair, and an impish face that shone with a child's playfulness; his eyes were brilliant green. He wore a long brown trench coat, jeans and finger-less gloves. He was kneeling down and grinning at Harold and Thisa ear-to-ear. Say hello to Michael Rezzo, "Night Stalker"

Ione arrived to her room and almost immedietly took the talisman off of Paige. She needed someone to talk to right now. It would take some time for Paige to get her strength back, but that also worked on her favor. She could get her thoughts in order while she waited. _'Why did I say that? Saoji wouldn't have left if I had just kept my mouth shut. But well, he seemed really interested in Henrietta. Maybe this works both ways. I may have to avoid him too now, if he gets talking with that girl.'_ She slowly got into a sitting position and hugged her knees, while looking at Paige slowly regain mobility. She also took her hat off, it seemed suffocating. **"Geez, what was that for? You don't have to get so angry about a simple slap! It's just... being... friendly? Ione..."** Ione was taking the bands off her hair, letting it free again. Her hair was really long, though her usual hairstyle didn't reveal that. **"Why are you crying?"** Paige's question drove it right home. She was startled at the mention of her crying. She quickly wiped away the tears with her hand, though she had just noticed them. **"I... I... I don't know! But I'm okay. I swear it... I am."** She fought her tears back and they stopped. She was surprisingly good, after all, when it came to keep the tears in check. She thought he had the same control over her emotions, but it didn't seem like it now. **"I just felt lonely, that's all. I'm... really glad you are here, Paige."** She said, smiling at Paige. Paige smiled wistfully and was about to hug her friend, but then the knocking on the door interrupted their moment. Ione was about to shout at them telling them to get away, she just didn't feel like taking any kind of guests right now. However, when she heard it was Saoji, she felt relief in her heart. She was happier, even if a little bit. **"Coming!"** She shouted, from inside the room. Paige was a bit disappointed that their emotional moment was interrupted, but she was happy to see Ione's spirits going up again. She quickly stood up and took off any dust that may have stuck on it with her hand. After clearing her throat, she was finally ready to open the door. She opened the door. **"Welcome."** She said, in her usual cold tone. **"It's good that you came."** She changed her tone yet again, this time sounding a lot more cheerful... Maybe the way a girl her age should speak. She was also smiling. It wasn't a big grin, but it was indeed bigger than the other smiles she had showed Saoji up until now.

Saoji gasped when Ione opened the door. Her hair, once again has won him over. Wow...he didn't expect her hair to be that long. It made his medium length, silver hair look like childs play compared to hers. She seemed very happy to see him as he stepped inside, looking around her room. He was very impressed with how she kept herself. Another thing they had in common, they were both neat freaks. Surprisingly, he wasn't as freaked out as he was before; now that he was in her room already instead of having to patiently wait for this moment to come. He looked over at Ione and smiled. **"This is really nice, Ione! We have something in common, you know? I hate seeing things messy. I usually try to keep my room as clean as yours. So...where can I sit?"** he asked, not wanting to be rude just standing around. The book in which he carried, entitled..."The Truth About Revolution" was kept underneath his arm. He held onto it as if it was his golden treasure.

> Henrietta peered sheepishly at Poppy and Timothy. "If it helps, I don't really read anyone's minds at night. The teenage thoughts of hormone ridden boys and girls during aren't exactly the kind of the you want to be seeing." "Yeah, I would imagine," [Timothy](http://www.roleplayerguild.com/topics/75166/posts/char#post-2323135) agreed, smiling still and mildly regretful at thinking the thoughts that were making Henrietta's cheeks charmingly flushed. But then again, he reasoned, he was not really at fault, because he surely cannot be in control at what comes to mind immediately upon seeing something. No-one could fault him for finding Henrietta beautiful; he was just a newcomer amongst a massive horde who thought the same, though he was quite closer to the center of it, he thought, being able to converse with her freely as of the moment - and he hoped he would continue to. She didn't seem like a bad girl. "Well, at least I know I'm completely safe at night." He leaned back, and relaxed his shoulders against the chair. "Or not. With your powers, we're all probably, for the lack of a better term, damned either way. But yeah," he rolled his eyes, trying to find something else to say, but finding none. "That's that." _"That's a nice concept. Damned either way when it comes to her. Are we to resign ourselves to this philosophy?"_ Cadwal wondered, mentally stroking his ghostly beard. _"I wonder if she can manipulate me, though."_ _"Well, she can hear your thoughts, Cadwal."_ _"Speaking of thoughts, I'd love to know her reactions to the shite you come up with every night on your bed. I mean, I've met some risque poets before, but you-"_ _"Bloody hell, mate, don't tempt her!"_

**"You can sit wherever you want. The bed is comfy too. I need to wash my face, so wait a bit."** She said and stepped into her room's restroom, she had to erase any kind of proof that may or may not remain of her crying. It'd be really embarrassing if Saoji noticed that. She would also use that opportunity to talk with Paige. It was something good that she didn't have any roommates, so she didn't have to explain herself to anyone for just stepping into the room without warning. Now, the problem was Paige, she most probably only heard bits and pieces of the conversation from before due to the talisman. **"So..."** Here it came, what Ione was expecting to happen sooner or later. **"What's that guy doing here? Was he the one that made you cry? If so, then I....!"** Ione washed her face thoroughly and then looked at Paige with such an intensity she started feeling physical pain, even without a body. **"Touch him again and I'll have you exorcised."** Paige seemed really scared and just nodded. **"Great, then."** Ione went back to the room where Saoji was in and proceeded to put the movie in the DVD player. **"I hope you didn't wait too much. Would you like something to drink? I only have some tea, sadly, but we can get some sodas at the end of the hallway."**

“Thank god!” Poppy couldn’t help but say when she realized she had at least a little bit of privacy. Then, realizing the connotations and implications, quickly added, “Not that I’m doing anything _emphasized text_inappropriate or anything. I mean, I am a teenager, but I don’t really participate in _that_ kind of activity, like, at all. Not that I’m a loser who can’t get a boyfriend! But, uh, um – _shit_.” Poppy slumped forward and her eyebrows furrowed broodingly. The air felt thick with awkwardness, but that could be just how Poppy perceived things. This was the problem with the blonde – she was a walking blob of humiliation. So, Poppy had two options – stay or flee. And, well, fleeing looked like a really great option at the moment. It helped that her stomach was grumbling at the moment. “Uh, so, um, I’m go’nna go get some grub.” The blonde hummed, standing up so quickly that the chair fell backwards and thudded loudly to the floor. Heat rose to her cheeks and she scrambled to lift up the chair, setting it gingerly back on its legs. Then, as if a polite courtesy rather than a genuine invitation, Poppy said, “You guys can come with if you want to.” Without waiting for a reply, she darted from the room, not caring if they followed or not, and towards the East cafeteria. She arrived rather fast and approached the food – it seemed pizza was on the menu today – and proceeded to put two slices on a plate. Next to her, a brunette piled pizza after pizza onto her plate. “Think you have enough?” Poppy weakly joked and, then, cringed. “Not that you’re fat or anything – or ugly. No, you-you’re pretty and, wow, what a nice figure. Not that I’m hitting on you or nothing! I swear I'm not a perv!” For the many-eth time that day, Poppy’s face resembled the flower for which she was named.

Pizza in mouth, Belle turned when she was spoken too. Her brow rose at the sight of the tongue-tied girl before her. A small chuckle escaped her lips through the pizza which probably didn't look too attractive at the time. She set down the plate on the counter and put the pizza in her mouth on top of her leaning tower of pizza. **"It's nice to meet you too."** Belle joked, smiling widely at the girl. **"And yes, I do have enough. Want to eat with me?"** She asked, already picking up her plate and pushing the girl towards a table. Belle never was one for 'no's or waiting... **"Oh, and thanks for the compliment."** She told Poppy as she pushed her, chuckling. She found a clear table and stopped pushing the stranger to take a seat. Already shoving a piece of pizza into her mouth, she motioned for the girl to sit on the other side of her. **"I'm Isabelle Freyone but feel free to just call me Belle."** She introduced herself, her eyes flitting to the side to look at the commotion happening with the uh... shadow guy. She blinked, watching them before turning to look up her strange new friend expectantly. Only now, did Belle actively look at the girl. Blonde hair held in a messy bun framed her face. Soft radiant skin made her blue eyes seem soft and warm and her peach toned lips plump and kissable. _She'd be lovely to paint..._ Belle thought casually to herself. _Indeed. Such beauty is rarely seen for what it really is._ Muse replied out of nowhere. _Did you enjoy your nap?_ She asked. _It was most lovely. As is this girl before you. What is her name?_ _ I don't know yet._ _Find out! I must know the name of this comely beauty. I think she may be our new muse, dear one._ _That's what I was trying to do, Muse!_ **"And you are?"** She asked, dark brown eyes searching the girl's face.

Who was this, this... arrogance just God damn popping out of such a private place like that. Thisa wouldn't be surprised if the guy got punched in the face regularly, and if he didn't well he very well deserved it. She was furious, more then just furious she was straight up pissed, the urge to beat Micheal into a pulp was greatly rising, yet obviously doing so would be a really bad idea no matter who he was. Thisa grabbed Harold's shoulder with a clenched hand and pulled him in, perhaps a bit abruptly. She whispered in a soft, but sharp tone, *"Whatever happens I need to you keep me pulled back, really if things get worse I want you to do whatever you can to keep me held back... use force if you need to, just whatever happens I don't want this to escalate."* Thisa breathed deep, closed her eyes and counted to ten. She released Harold's shoulder, stood forward starting straight at Micheal with anything but a friendly look. "That wasn't very polite, don't know how often you pull that kind of thing off... but if you're looking for allies that's not a good way to go about it. Still I guess you're not here to just to prank, what do you want I wonder."

Henrietta giggled. "Oh, a poet are you? Well, I might just want to check those out sometime. I'm interested to know just what are the subjects of your master pieces," she said teasingly. Henrietta was mildly amused with Poppy's little outburst, and would have offered to give some advice on getting a boyfriend (lord knows she was good at that) but Poppy had already up and left. The girl pouted a bit but decided to let hew go. "Well, if you have to. Stop by the Orchestra room sometime. I'm the head of the club, as well as the head of the Beautification Committee, so if you ever want to have a talk with me, just stop on over, okay?" she said, with a smile that promised great things if she did so. The girl turned to Timothy. "Now, you were saying something about helping us out with our journal write-up? Let's see, you can handle Bill and Lily over there, and I'll help Misha and Ronda. That way we've got an even split, okay?" --- Michael grinned, seemingly oblivious to her vitriol. "Not a prank and not looking for allies; places to hide however . . ." The seniors snickered in the background. It was always like this with him, it was why the higher years stopped wearing skirts; if you looked closely, all the girls who were third year or older were wearing jeans. Skirts meant shadows and shadows meant places where Rezzo could suddenly pop-up. It was also the reason they stopped wearing large jackets. Michael continued. "Anyway, I gotta hide from Anderson and what's-his-face. I have no idea _why_ they think I should be the judge of there fight bu-" _"Michael!"_ shouted a voice from the entrance. The young man made a face and promptly melted into the shadow of his trench-coat. A voice came from the _inside _of Thisa's jacket collar. "Please keep quiet and don't tell him I'm here. It would suck if he found me, and I really don't want to have to hide all the way in the dorms." Meanwhile, a tall young man with dirty blonde hair stormed into the room, accompanied by a black haired boy who looked a few years younger than him. The blonde had an impatient look on his face and was swiveling his head here and there. The people in the cafeteria reigned in their laughter, but it was a _fairly _poor job. --- **Time Left Until Meeting: 3h : 5m : 20s**

[Timothy](http://www.roleplayerguild.com/topics/75166/posts/char#post-2323135) did not have many friends, even before he came to St. Dymphna. Maybe it was because he lived in the worse part of town, but his sincere niceness was treated with suspicion by most of his peers, and his Christian indoctrination made him abstain from all the sleepovers, the parties, the movie night-outs, the young love, and perhaps even the vices of smoking and drinking while still a minor: things that he should have all experienced by now, before he turned 17 four months later - but haven't. He spent most of his time in his room, preoccupied always in his own little world of historical glory as he summoned forth (and interrogated) past Crusaders and meditated on Cadwal's lectures, if he wasn't being a good boy and studying. At his former school's cafeteria, he thought he would find good company at the nerds' table, but was turned off by their rampant watching of hentai and other sexual deviances. Looking back, most of his interactions with people of his age group involved them copying the homework they didn't do, or doing the group project by himself. Not that he minded all too much, but Timothy was still a teenager in a modern world. And he found it just a bit shameful. Maybe it would be the same here, as after he had his little goodbye wave ignored by [Poppy](http://www.roleplayerguild.com/topics/75166/posts/char#post-2323135) and he sat down with his new charges and inspected their papers with genuine interest, guiding them on with his esoteric knowledge without intention of receiving any form of compensation other than a little gratitude. Or, he as stole a small, innocent-enough glance at Henrietta, maybe it would not. Either way, he would be fine with it all.

Harold's mind was still reeling from the sudden apperence of Michael from UNDERNEATH Thisa's SKIRT of all places. Harold was suddenly having a very, very bad day. And it seemed likely to only get worse. Thisa had squeezed his shoulder quite heavily, almost to the point of being painful, and had talked about stopping her should she try something. Apperently she was more on the *from skirt* more than *How did he get there*. Not that he blamed her. She DID just have some random kid she doesn't know come from her *skirt* of all places, and act like he didn't care at all. About her, her skirt, his practical teleportation, the stares and laughter of everyone around them. Not a single care. When Michael explained what he was doing to Thisa, Harold's mind just had a moment where it shut down. This kid, didn't care at all. Period. And it was all just because he wanted to get out of *judging a fight*. That right there made Harold very....annoyed. This kid was obviously very irresponsible, and didn't seem like he had *any* brain at all. He wouldn't be surprised if that *was* actually the case. Either way, Harold was about to speak up and question the teen, but then he disappeared again. Harold *thought* heard he a guy's voice come from somewhere near him and Thisa, but he couldn't be very sure. He also spied two boys running into the cafeterria, both seemingly intent on something. Or some*one*, as Harold remembered just *why* Michael was hiding. "Ah....would the pair of you perhaps be in pursuit of a boy that is capable of traveling via shadows?" Harold asked in the best tone he could put together with his muddled mind at the moment.

He's in her jacket now... just in her jacket now... Thisa has no idea how this... pervert is able to do all this. Hell this guy has no respect for others and does whatever he damn well pleases, and worse of all she was at the center of all of it. Micheal was hiding from people, no idea why, no idea who, no idea why in God's name she should care about this arrogant kid in the first place. Thisa clenched her fists, and closed her eyes attempting to control her flooding anger, rage isn't her right? She doesn't like to get angry, she doesn't get angry, hatred is not her. In the end however, Thisa's mind and body simply went numb, she can prevent the emotion but she can't control it. **"God damn all of this, why in hell's name would I hide YOU? In the first few minutes, NO in the first mere SECONDS you assume I'll be fine with just harboring you in MY jacket?"** the dam holding back just sheer emotion burst, **"No,no,no,no,no just flat out NO, I will NOT hide you!"** Thisa was little more then a creature of rage at this point...

Poppy was overly-relieved when her new-found acquaintance didn’t react negatively towards her rather rude comment – not that she meant it to be rude. Maybe that was why the blonde allowed herself to be nudged towards the table, focusing on maintaining her ever-failing balance as she hobbled forward. Poppy flopped into a seat, wiggling her body to get comfortable and began to munch messily on her pizza. She always had a particular way of eating pizza: she folded it over horizontally and ate it like a sandwich, and so that was what she did. Sauce dripped from it and onto her fingers which she sucked on greedily, not wanting to waste a single drip. It was whilst sucking on such a drop on the backside of her hand that she realized the girl was talking – introducing herself it seemed. Poppy licked the slop quickly, swallowing and offering her clean hand, smiling lopsidedly, “I’m Poppy O’Conner. It’s great-uh, to meet you, Belle.” It was only this time that Poppy actually took a good look at the girl before her. She was pretty, like super-pretty, and Poppy got the itch to squirm in her seat again as if it could quell the insecurity rising up in her stomach. Then, she got the overwhelming urge to pet her seemingly soft black hair. Instead, she fluttered the hand uselessly in front of her face as if waving something off, before saying, “Sorry, I’m a messy eater. Get it, uh, everywhere and stuff. Yeah.”

The two older males approached Harold as he spoke to them. "Yeah," growled the blonde. "Short kid, black hair, unbearably childish and -" His little rant was cut off for Thisa's much, much larger one. The two of the rounded in shock at her little outburst and they quickly realized just _why_ she exploded. Everyone in the cafeteria burst into outright laughter. "Man! How many does this make now?" asked RSA. One of the females in the crowd curtly replied, "47, about a quarter of those were male." "It's funny every time I see it," chortled RSC. Several students agreed, several did not - but those were mostly students that were victims themselves. It was still a bit funnier to them though, now that they weren't the ones being victimized; it was a schadenfreude like feeling. Meanwhile the two males practically teleported in front of Thisa. The large blonde grabbed her by the shoulders and shook her roughly. "Dammit Michael get the fuck out of there and get your lazy ass to the field." "For a man asking to be his lieutenant, you're quite demanding, not to mention disrespectful," said the shorter black haired youth. He then narrowed his eyes at the larger boy. "Also, I'd appreciate it if you not go blind with stupid and realize you are also shaking down a girl who is a head shorter than you and only half as wide." The blonde snorted and ignored him, still gripping the girls shoulders. He glared at Thisa - it was an expression of impatience and very closely resembled an enraged bull. "Listen girl, tell that little idiot to get his ass out here so we can both get on with are lives, eh?" The shorter boy was now outright glaring at him. "Lietman, I am warning you, one more toe out of line and I will ignore your challenge of my position and put you down right here." Silence spread through the cafeteria. No one was laughing anymore; if things escalated past this point, then there was going to be a full on Ability-powered brawl on their hands, and it was between two lieutenant-class students. Some people very quickly and silently made for the exit. Others stood and watched with bated breath, while some in the sidelines got ready to intervene. One man approached Harold silently. "Dude, let's step out of this real quick okay? You're a bit too close for comfort here." --- Henrietta waved goodbye at her friends. They were headed off to their respective rooms, fully satisfied with the work they had completed today. "Heh, we did a good job. They _might_ have actually learned something today," she said. It might have been mocking, but there was a hint of familiar affection in her tone. She turned to the only remaining person in the library. "Well Tim, I've got to go now, but if you ever need me for something or just want to talk, stop by my classroom or the Orchestra room. It was really, really, really nice to meet you, by the way. I haven't had anyone new to talk to in _years_. " Suddenly she leaned forward and gave Timothy a slight peck on the cheek. "And there's your well deserved reward. See you!" With a wink, Henrietta left the library without giving Timothy any time to respond. The librarian looked like she nothing unusual had happened and carried on with her work.

No. It wasn't going to be like before. That one meaningful parting act was the sign. [Timothy](http://www.roleplayerguild.com/topics/75166/posts/char#post-2323135) could not help but stare dumbly at the angel's back as she left him to stew in his own stupidity in the library with only its indifferent librarian to keep him company. Seconds went by before he could feel his fingers again, and his first act was to bring them up to his cheek where she had kissed him. Those soft, pink lips -- they graced him at _this_ part, where his index and middle fingertips felt. The area felt sweetly hot, but unfortunately for Tim's wandering romantic imagination, it wasn't her lingering warmth; it was simply him flushing brightly not unlike [Poppy](http://www.roleplayerguild.com/topics/75166/posts/char#post-2323885), all the way to his ears. In his mind, the silence of his frozen thoughts was broken by a repeating smacking sound, quite stark against the deathly quiet. And in the backdrop, a mild snickering could be heard. Cadwal was slowly clapping his ghostly hands, and trying to contain himself. _"Cadwal..."_ was the only thing Timothy could manage; he was going to tell him to shut up. _"Hah! You...,"_ the ghostly knight struggled, _"Didn't expect that, did you?"_ _"... I... I did not."_ _"Oh boy, but, ah,"_ he finished laughing, though annoyingly for Tim he had dragged it out first. _"Don't think of it too seriously."_ _"What... do you mean?"_ _"The gesture might be meaningless. Girl like that, the sincerity is questionable."_ _"You think?"_ _"I think? You **know**. Or have you forgotten that she compared herself to Satan or that she described herself as a manipulator? Don't tell me you were so blinded that you utterly believed everything she said, just because she was nice to you? She's one of the gang leaders in this school, and one who is feared for specifically the thing you're falling a victim of."_ Maybe it was because he couldn't think straight yet, but Tim found himself in agreement. Yet, he was still opposed to the idea that he was being played like a fool. _"Well, I-"_ _"Hold that thought,"_ Cadwal interrupted. _"Let's talk of this where we can at least pretend to have more privacy. You look like a mess, boy, and you don't even have to look at a mirror. I think we're done for the day. Let's get back to your room."_ _"Yeah,"_ he finally let go of his cheek, resigning himself to Cadwal's counsel. _"Let's."_

The blonde's shaking did little to help the situation in fact only serving to further fuel the fire that raged in Thisa's mind. She jerked back as to break any grip of the blonde's that may have still remained, she needed to be free. Thisa without a second thought discarded her jacket, underneath was nothing but a white t-shit, she usually doesn't take off her jacket anyway. Next more drastically she practically tore off her skit, without a scrap of care for modesty all she wanted to do was rid herself of shadows. Without her regular clothing there was a lot less to the imagination as her full figure, details omitted, was free for all to see now no longer covered. Thisa cared very little for the situation between the two lieutenants, no she had something else on her wild mind. **"HEY you assholes, LAUGHING at my expense rather then actually helping like any HALF-decent human would do! Every single one of you has decided to get the hell out of here now that shit is getting tough, NO fuck this FUCK every little bit of this. NO!"** Thisa's full rage was now directed to the crowd of students who still remained. A small part of her conscious resurfaced telling her what she was about to do was against so many rules... but she quickly stomped it down. Thisa focused her energy in a small space in front of her, willing metal to bend at her will. Pieces of metal started flying to this single space as if attracted by a powerful magnet, and in a place like the cafeteria there was a lot of loose metal, silverware, food trays, fallen screws from furniture, and even objects like Harold's own laptop. The metals collided into a single quivering mass of molten metal, akin to what the formation of planets must look like. Once this ball was almost as big, if not larger then Thisa herself, she started to mold the ball into a human shape. It took form quickly, and before long a machine in its full shape stood its ground. It was a robot, in a way, very tall at seven feet, it looked like a metal knight complete with a large tower shield in one hand and a scimitar in the other. Its body looked like a full set of gothic plate armor colored silver. The knight shifted, wiring of motors and servoes could be heard as it moved. This was her ability *Finely-Tuned Mechanisms* to create machines out of metals. With her knight in toe Thisa stared into the crowd, trying to stand straight the creation of the knight was extremely taxing due to its size and sheer complexity for even basic function. Thisa wheezed, she was unprepared for the amount of energy it would have taken, but she had to make a point, she had to make a FUCKING point. In the very back regions of her mind echoed *Help me Harold... I can't stop...*

Belle tried her best to avoid the snicker coming out of her mouth as she watched the girl shove pizza into her mouth. She couldn't really say much since she'd been doing the same thing moments before but something about the irony of it all. But the girl had a lovely name as well. _I agree._ Muse spoke suddenly, sitting next to Belle, his black shadowy legs crossed. **"It's nice to meet you, Poppy."** Belle returned, smiling. **"And... me too, to be honest. And I don't usually eat with other people. But I just came out of my work space after finishing a piece so I'm letting myself mingle. It's good to do sometimes."** She explained, chuckling as she grabbed a piece of pizza. She dropped it, however, at the outburst of a girl nearby. Blinking, Belle watched with a curious eye, a rather strange curve formed at the corners of her mouth as she watched the girl's powers begin to work. She turned to see metal objects flying over to her, people barely dodging the torrent of metal rushing at them. _Another person I wouldn't mind painting..._ Belle observed. _Indeed, something else I can agree with. There certainly are interesting beings here in this place._ Muse spoke from his lazy position. _Yes! I'm glad we came here._ Now intent on watching what would unfold, Belle, with pizza in mouth, stayed turned towards the event unfolding before her and watched like one would watch a TV show.

Harold quickly took stock of the situation. And it didn't look that bad- No, it was horrible! (No thoughts like that!) Harold also noted to his complete pleasure, no, dis at that, that Thisa had ripped off her skirt and her jacket. If she remembered this, she would probably be highly displeased....although Harold wasn't. No, he totally was. He's just messing around. Yup, completely. Messing. Around. Anyways, Thisa seemed to be having a major breakdown right now. And with the ways things were looking around the cafeterria, he might just end up being the only one able, and apperently willing, to calm her down. I mean, she summoned a **Knight** out of nowhere on a whim! Who would want to possibly envoke her malice? Harold was by no means a masochist, but he damn well didn't believe he'd let his best friend just have a meltdown and a murder spree because of some imbiceile kid and a bunch of self-absorbed teenagers, not after that humiliation. So Harold took a step forward, towards Thisa. "Thisa! What are you planning on *doing* with that....glorious machine?" Harold was obviously more than slightly shaken up by Thisa's newly revealed ability to build....a Machine....from NOTHING!....Wait. She used his laptop. Harold's eye twitched. It twitched again.... "OUI! YOU BASTARD! WHAT THE HELL DID YOU DO TO MY COMPUTER!?!?!" Harold suddenly blew up after realizing what happened to his laptop, unleasing a rage induced shout at the top of his nerdy lungs. The Knight didn't move, but it did speak not like a normal instead its voice resonated within Harold's mind and only his mind, *"I did nothing with your device, the Maker saw it fit for construction."* Harold took a moment to process the machine's words. His rage induced state was....not really in the mood for logical or deductive reasoning of any kind. "SO WHAT!?!? WHAT MAKES YOU THINK YOU CAN JUST TAKE MY FUCKIN' LAPTOP THEN!?!?! DOES IT LOOK LIKE YOUR MAKER? CAUSE I DON'T THINK IT DOES!" Harold....was in a problematic state himself. Not that anyone in the area would probably be able to understand just *why* he was so upset with the Knight itself for taking his laptop. But, that didn't change the fact that he was not in a good state of mind to be around either. A few of the older students started wondering if they would have not one, but *two* new students showing off their abilities in broad daylight. *"I did nothing with your 'laptop' nor does it look like the Maker"* The Knight started holding a full on one line conversation with Harold it seemed. Harold tried taking a deep breath to calm down a little. He knew, in that little part of his mind that was allowing him to keep his vision from fading to black, that was also still capable of thinking. Not that he was doing really well with utalizing that part mind you, but he was trying. It wasn't as bad as his Desktop. When that thing went down....well, Harold may, or may not, have become an arsonist for the day....maybe. Calming himself to actually think clearly, even though his sight wasn't really, Harold started to notice the fact that Thisa had *summoned* a *Machine Knight* just out of the blue. He had never encountered such a feat before in his admittedly short lifespan. Then he realized something else. He was talking. To a Machine. And it was TALKING BACK. Harold was starting to wonder if he had lost his sanity instead of his emotional control at the moment. "You're....talking to me....what the hell? How!?!?!" Harold was now going through a complete emotional breakdown as far as he was concerned. He felt like he'd be going through a multitude more of emotions before they'd get out of this damned situation. *"Yes I am talking to you, as a human you should not be able to hear me, however you do. I do not have a reason."* The Knight replied equally cool as ever. "Do you....know anything about this school? Or about your ahm...."Maker"?" Harold was desperate at this point. He knew that the sooner he could figure out *how* he was managing to talk to this Machine, the sooner he could get out of this situation....and promptly break something. *"No I do not. As for the Maker my only objective is to serve."* (Well, that's a pretty depressing existence). "Why do you serve her then? Because she made you, or because she has a logical choice of action that you agree with?" (....or something? It's a Machine Harold. Work with it! I Don't....I wanna hit these *idiots* who're just standing there looking just as stupid as they probably work....maybe I should focus on the Knight?....yeah, let's just....do that.....). Harold's mind was racing right now, and he seemed to be putting a strain on his own mind with this conversation. *"There is no reason, it is part of my existance to serve."* Harold was a little, no, more than a little displeased at that answer. A Machine who's sole purpose is to serve? Really? (....well fuck my life.) "....to serve..." Harold was muttering to himself. He was trying his damnedest to come up with a way to keep the knight that was starting to look more and more....lethal with each passing moment....from choosing him to be it's first target. "....What are you to do in your....servitude?" The longer he took the worse this situation got. "Protection, I was summoned for protection in the Maker's need."* "Protection from what?" Harold spoke up again. *"From harm."* This appeared to be the sole reason behind the whole serving bit that the Machine had going for it. Not a very complicated one, but.... "That's impossible though. You, nor anyone else are capable of protecting your Maker, nor any human, from harm completely. Your existence then is worthless. What do you have to counter that Mr. Knight?" *"It is logical to say so, however only right now is protection it my objective, as long as the Maker is protected now I am fullfiling my objective. It is ONLY to protect the Maker."* "What harm are you protection your Maker *from*?" Harold started into another part of the questioning session. *"Physical harm." "What would, or is, physically harming her then?" *"Any action that causes pain from physical contact to the Maker and only the Maker."* The Knight answered. "What is it that would be trying to cause said harm to your Maker, thus requiring your existence to protect her?" *'Any human, or other living creature." "And if they were to leave?" "It would mean nothing until the Maker wills my objective completed."* (....again, fuck my life.) "Ahm....Fine then. Stay with your Maker and protect her....I will....try to get the rest of the humans and animals in the immediate area to leave, thus granting a greater level of protection for you Maker. Would that be alright with yourself and your Maker?" *"I know your intent, I will say that will do nothing unless the Maker wills so."* "Ahm....well, I suppose working would be in my best intentions then, would it not?" Harold asked rhetorically. He then turned to the crowd that was still in the cafeterria and shouted out: "IF YOU DO NOT WISH PHYSICAL HARM OR DEATH UPON YOURSELF, LEAVE. NOW!" *"No"* This was the simplest answer that Harold had been given yet. Harold quickly spun on his heel and faced the Knight once more. "What do you mean, No?" *"No as in logically I do not see how this would have the Maker will my objective complete."* "It will remove any physical harm that is likely to be done to her beyond myself, and you. And I damn well do not plan on harming Thisa right now. I don't even understand how she managed to build you yet!....or have my laptop back for that matter...." Harold muttered the last part, hoping nobody heard him, but otherwise was trying to keep up with this completely logically thinking Machine. *"It does not matter what conditions are met, it is my purpose for exisiting however in the end the Maker's will is above all."* This Knight was obviously a downer on life. Not that Harold really complained, but this conversation had really started to make his head hurt. "....Alright, alright." Harold sighed once more, racking his already strained brain for an idea. "What is it that has caused Thisa to become enraged exactly?" *"Mutliple factors, lack of respect, lack of empathy, lack of support."* (....oh....fuck....my bad Thisa....) "-ahm-....Is it possible for me to "solve" these factors and calm her down?" *"Yes."* "Do you know how?" Harold didn't have time for the nonsense that this machine was pulling on him. *"Yes."* "Could you perhaps, Explain how to me?" This was frusterating on so many levels right now. *"In what way?"* "What is an efficient way in which I can calm down your Maker and keep this crowd from being harmed?" *"Human comfort."* "How can I specifically comfort her so as to calm her down?" "Physical contact, or words."* "Which would work better for Thisa in this situation?" *"I have no emotions and cannot say."* (This is such bullshit.) "....May I go comfort her then, Mr. Knight?" Harold was at witts end. He was beyond thinking of anything else to as the knight as of now. *"Yes, provided you bring no harm. Also because of who you are."* "Who I am? What does that have to do with calming Thisa down?" *...Only the Maker knows, I do not. Go now, you have premission."* The Knight gave its final answer. "...Alright then." After bringing the (more than)20 questions to an end, Harold slowly walked over to Thisa now, hoping to God that he didn't do or say anything to provoke Thisa or the Knight into killing him. "Thisa. Thisa, would you be able to spare a minute of time to hold a conversation with me, perhaps?" Harold really, really wanted her answer to be a firm, solid, and possibly angery-sounding 'YES'. Mostly because he didn't want to die, but also because he wanted to talk to his best friend. And he'd be damned long before he gave up on her just because she made a Knight. That's actually a rather enticing thing, at least in Harold's mind.

The moment Thisa had summoned her Knight, everyone in the cafeteria stared at her in shock; they had expected a meltdown, but not from her. This shock lasted for about two seconds before they realized that there was a seven foot tall Knight made of steel inside the cafeteria and a slightly hysterical girl behind the controls. Those inexperienced with such things quickly ducked out of the way, but the same cannot be said for the seniors. They were by no means the best in the school, but years of belonging to a group that taught them, and years of starting fights, ending fights, and generally being in this school taught them one thing: Never, _ever_ remain inactive in front of a persons abilities. There are those that _did_ react, and then suddenly the area was filled with an explosion of motion and power and general chaos. The moment Harold finished his conversation, wings sprouted out, lightning cracked, ground shook and generally everyone was prepared to go full-power total kill on a single robot. Anderson, the short black haired youth beside the taller blonde, Lietman, huffed and suddenly the room about Thisa bent in her vision. He had the ability to manipulate light and was currently playing with the light in front of Thisa's eyes. . Thisa's perspective was skewed all over the place and constantly shifted every second. Lietman snorted, unimpressed by Thisa's display and vanished. In a split second he was back and on top of the Knight, a drill in hand he jabbed it on top and speared through its shoulder before disappearing and reappearing with another drill. Michael was taking his hands out of his coat and then sticking it back in. What was actually happening was he was grabbing some rather sharp pointy and _very _conductible objects and sticking them inside the Knight, Several students in the background helped in their own way. One threw lightning bolts at the Knight, blowing of its body parts bit by bit; a second student froze its legs and was quickly freezing more; another stood in beside Harold ready to bail him out if things got rough - he was now also covered in head to toe in granite. He grinned at Harold. "I see _someone's _new to the whole 'ability' thing." It was around the this time that the commotion in the library called the attention of several individuals, who were now on there way. Actually, seeing as one had the ability to move at sublight speeds, he was already there, with another one it tow . . . He was taller than the robot itself, standing at 7'14 feet and with muscles rippling all over, his body resembled a bear more than a humans. Red hair, green eyes and dressed in simple jogging attire, Jason Grant stepped into the cafeteria with Louise Sophoro riding on his back and looking sick. "I - urgh - want to puke." "I told you wouldn't be able to handle that," responded Jason with a smirk. He turned towards the chaos and frowned. "Now just what is going on here?"

The late afternoon tranquility, as [Timothy](http://www.roleplayerguild.com/topics/75166/posts/char#post-2323135) took the scenic route on his way to his room to reflect upon the day so far, was shattered by alarmingly loud noises as he passed by the cafeteria. Thunderclaps hammered at his ears and shook the air like cannon fire, startling him on his toes. His fingers, through instinctive reflex, already gripped tightly his crucifix pendant as he looked bewildered in the general direction wherefrom the unholy cacophony emanated; and not long after, he was sprinting after it. He burst through the entrance of the cafeteria and the chaos that made a wreck of the place was worse than he imagined at first. It seemed that almost everyone had activated their abilities and was now hammering at the most obvious target at the near center of the room: an armored titan, a hulking parody of man cobbled together from nearby scrap and whatever else was available and now forced to walk and swing and swipe by its master. But who directed it? He couldn't know. Far too many things were happening all at once. But, he thought he could make out a familiar face or two through the hurricane of firepower. _"What a ruckus!"_ Cadwal understated, exhilaration unhidden in his mind-voice. _"It's almost as bad as when I first entered Jerusalem!"_ A girl with wings then suddenly swooped by Timothy, sending a gust of wind that almost voided him of his glasses. _"Bloody hell, boy, that one's got angel wings!"_ "What in the **_hell_** is going on here?!" Timothy yelled, his face contorted in confusion and a bit of ire. Though part of him wanted to summon a Holy Ghost or two right then and there, he did not want to act too rashly; he had just discovered that he was part of a ring of idle bystanders, and this probably wasn't a gratuitous free-for-all. But he still held the silver that hung from his neck. If something went wrong, a few words was all it took.