The thrall began to speak, answering the questions posed by the vampires in the group. When he addressed Willa's inquiry, she felt a slight jolt of surprise and realized that she hadn't spoken a word to another person, alive or undead, for months now. Willa wasn't particularly keen on striking up a conversation with Stella, who would have ignored Willa if she did anyway. As the thrall elaborated on the plan formulated by "X", Willa found herself feeling overwhelmed. Willa had never even heard of one or two of the Barons and Baronesses he mentioned-or, at least, she didn't know their names but knew [i]of[/i] them. The thrall's whole explanation was flying over her head. Willa had always known that she lived under a metaphorical rock as a vampire, but the newfound knowledge that she lived under such an enormous metaphorical rock left her reeling. It made sense, though; Stella didn't need or want Willa to understand the politics of the vampire world, she just needed Willa to be able to feel physical pain. 

Willa had an uneasy feeling in her gut that intensified as the thrall went into more detail. It all seemed too risky, too chancy...but then again, it would be worth it if this intricate plot of X's succeeded. That, Willa was sure of. She had everything to gain and nothing besides her undead life, as miserable as it was, to lose. And dying didn't seem so bad when Stella decided to pay Willa a visit. But still...Willa couldn't help but to wonder how in the world X got a hold of her. She didn't even know that she was going to go out and feed until a few hours before she went. Was this somehow a trap that Stella was involved in? Why would Stella want to ensnare Willa though, when she could kill her in a heartbeat if she chose to? Could this be a ploy meant to deceive the others in the room, or were the others in the room also a part of it? Willa gave a derisive snort at that thought; it was arrogant of her to even consider that she was important enough for some kind of well-thought out plan. 

While Willa was wrapped up in her thoughts and the questions swimming through her head, she listened closely and tried to make sense of it all. The female thrall made a call, and the male thrall suddenly was strangely excited; and Willa waited in anticipation for whatever it was. What the [i]hell[/i] was going on?

Willa got her answer a few seconds later. The air began to press down on her, and [i]something[/i] seemed to force its way into her body, into her skull and stomach and lungs and arms, coming from everywhere yet nowhere all at once. Willa instinctively thought of Stella, imagined her glaring coldly down at Willa while she screamed, her green eyes as emotionless as ever...but no, it couldn't be, because this kind of pain was on a whole different plane, and Willa somehow just [i]knew[/i] that it was beyond Stella's ability to do something like this. She gasped softly as the sensation pressed outward against her flesh, feeling as if she was about to explode into a million pieces.

The uncomfortable feeling stopped just as quickly as it had started. Power, pure and insane [i]power[/i] rushed through Willa's veins like water bursting out of a dam. It was like a nearsighted person putting on glasses for the first time-everything was strikingly clear and defined. Willa could sense even the smallest degree of pain. She found a slight itch just as easily as she found a gunshot wound; the pain seemed to undulate and pulse inside each vessel, and Willa could [i]see[/i] it even though there was nothing there. And everybody in the room, no, everybody within a one-mile radius seemed like an open box. All Willa had to do was pick a box, and then the ache in her bones and the soreness in her limbs and the throbbing of the last vestiges of pain from Stella's visit a few weeks ago would all be gone, packaged neatly in one of the boxes. Willa found herself subconsciously running her fingers lightly over the scars that had formed on her face, her limbs twitching slightly. When she looked down at herself, the pain was practically tangible. She could pick it up and throw it all into someone else without breaking a sweat.

And then...it was gone. She was normal Willa again, the Willa who walked with a permanent limp and never lifted her eyes off of the ground, the Willa who always had livid bruises dotting her skin like sprinkles on a cake, the Willa who was frail and tiny and weak and couldn't beat a five-year-old in a fight. All of a sudden, Willa craved more of that power. She wanted to feel like that again, to feel like she was something other than a box for Stella to add and remove pain as she pleased. She glanced down at herself, filled with the irrational hope that she might be able to practically touch the pain inside her again, but of course there was nothing besides her ratty sweatshirt and worn-out jeans. She was keenly aware of what she must have looked like in the eyes of the other vampires, with her skin stretched tightly across her gaunt frame and her hollow cheeks and eyes that sank deep into her skull and scars and bruises covering her face-and she [i]hated[/i] it, hated feeling powerless and at the mercy of others, but most of all she hated feeling like an object, hated feeling like a box for pain. 

The vampire who Willa thought looked like he came straight out of a murder mystery began to speak, replying to the vampire with claws. She cast her gaze around the room and saw that the others seemed just as shaken and disoriented as she did, meaning that X did whatever X did to all of them. Murder-mystery vampire proposed a blood pact, and Willa found herself teetering on the edge of the fence. It was true that she had nothing to lose but her undeath, her worthless miserable undeath...and yet Willa still clung on stubbornly to this undeath. The entire situation was fishy, and if they were caught, things would not look good for them, least of all for Willa. She already knew what would happen-Stella would tell whoever was in charge that she had nothing to do with it, and then Willa would be killed, and this time it would be permanently. But oh, to feel that kind of power again-that made everything worth it. Willa would endure Stella's beatings for another twenty years if she had to if she could have power like that one more time. 

The chubby man in a hat said that he would offer his assistance. Willa nodded, clearing her throat awkwardly. "Me too," she said softly, staring at her hands. There was a slight tremor in her voice, but when Willa lifted her eyes from her hands and let them dart around the room, it could be seen that there was a determined light to Willa's formerly meek and frightened expression.

"I...I'm in."