Worser and worser.

Horror and dread slackened the Aberration's jaw as he caught sight of the mobile forest, their incomprehensible numbers rendered into mere shadows as the dust storm broiled towards the lighthouse. Visibility had been bad before, with the steaming wall and storm and darkness and whatnot, but now?

Too many angles. Too many openings.

What if the lighthouse was already surrounded? How many of them were out there? It didn't matter. They needed to get away, all of them. As long as they were away it was fine. The disadvantages were overwhelming and they needed to leave now but that wasn't possible with their strongest three too wounded to move.

As Ernie forcibly lowered Siena, Lily and Brent back into the tunnels with the rope, he shouted into the communicator, unable to keep the panic from sharpening his tone.

"Fucking Christ, Emma, hurry!"

Emma was racing behind Marcus down the steps, Determination still at the top but doubtlessly not far behind. Ernie was yelling at her through the communicator, but as she rounded the last set of stairs she caught sight of him hovering by the trapdoor, ”We’re here, what the hell’s going on?!” she yelled, the panic in his voice raising her own.

Marcus was very careful not to let his own panic add to the quickly growing mix. The fact that he wasn't immediately using his stasis as the dark monster ripped through his friends meant things were better than he'd expected, and the watered down puddle of blood that was quickly forming around the torso of a man he didn't know most likely meant one of the Amigos was down.

It was a start at least, but irrelevant if they weren't prepared for the next.

Brent tumbled down into the tunnel, starbursts of pain reminding that his upper half was functional at least. What he had seen in 'broad daylight' was enough to alarm him, as even the small victory of three members of Unit B being able to take down the shadow beast with a combined assault didn't mean all that much compared to the accelerated ferocity of the sandstorm or the unending hoard of tree monsters. Wrenching the night vision goggles off his helmet, the arbiter blinked at how dim the tunnels looked, before offering it towards Lily.

"Put these on," he said, a silver jolt causing it to disassemble, reassemble, twist and screech. If his strange intuition was correct, it could now see through objects, filtering them out at the wearer's mental command. "You'll be able to see through all the dirt if you will it. Guide your chains to where Hazel is, Lily. Tell us when you've made the connection."

He wanted to say more, so much more, but Brent took in a deep breath instead, looking down the long, long path back to the estate. Keep it simple. Keep it clear. Fuck, it would suck if the goggles brought down now.

"Emma, we're going to heal Hazel and the others from here to avoid being seen. Siena, prep the pain-jammer."

"Ernie still has my phone." Concise. Clear. It was the best that Siena could do in the wake of everything. Fear and fury twisted into each other, an intimate dance that Siena didn't want to be familiar with. Didn't want to think would become a regular thing because she'd tried so hard not to let it. 'Just like before, Siena.' Hold everything down until the words came out right. Wrong? No, right. That was the correct turn of phrase. Faint pulses of pain trickled through the mental wall, no longer blinding, but still present. Not enough to ground her. "Lost my other source at the estate." Along with a plethora of others. Grey eyes trailed from the self-induced slice in her bad arm to the crimson ink that still stained the skin, an easy distraction from the chaotic buzzing in the back of her head, spilling into each crevice like the boiling sea.

Hot, cold, hurt, pain, heat. There it was. That was the word. Heat.

Fury and fear twisted again, and Siena tried, to no avail, to separate her heart--still hers? It didn't feel right--and her head. The fingers of her good arm found comfort in picking at the injury, another fresh coating of discomfort and vermilion accompanying the action. Another swell of both hurt and pain to dampen the heat. Hers. Not hers. She didn't know anymore. "...might be able to manage it without the phone, but I'd rather be sure."

The phone dropped by Siena's feet that instant, unceremoniously.

"Just get a tulpa down there with them. We've got a lot of people who need healing," Ernie's gaze remained on the swirling sandstorm outside. "Then we're leaving."

"How bad is it?" Marcus whispered, leaning in close to Ernie. He'd only managed to see a little bit from his perch atop the lighthouse, and he was painfully aware of how much worse the situation could get in the short time in took for him to run down the stairs. The rational part of his mind desperately feared the answer he'd get; Ernie's stern tone and quick barking of orders was pretty much all he needed.

"We're probably surrounded by nightmare trees but at least Cal still has her arms."

"Siena, Emma," Brent called sharply, "Tell me when you're ready."

The clatter had barely reached Siena's ears before she was moving, snatching the phone from the ground like a lifeline, droplets of blood coming off her fingers and onto the battle scarred screen like small rubies. Relief came as a violent, crashing wave to calm the panic that had threatened her, only to remind her then that the heat was still there. A careful breath, a sudden focus on the screen and the words to pull herself away. Not hers. Not her. A few taps brought up a familiar page, a familiar setting, and the process started again as Vale's name placed itself once more onto her neck.

All at once, it was too much. Everywhere, further than her eyes could see, further than she could have reached with his ability to weave agony into the nerves, it struck her. Pain. Everywhere. Before her, above her, around her, too much. Too much! Jagged gashes, rent flesh, broken people. Taking the pain away blindly would have been a stupid move, said the cool logic that Victor brought with him. She would never be able to distinguish between friend and foe if she couldn't see. That had been what she'd craved from Victor, hadn't it? The distinct division between what made one human and what made them more less.

She hid as much as she could with a carefully measured, if uneven, breath.

"I'm ready." The words were clipped, she could tell. Her eyes fell to Lily, a muted sense of concern and pity digging at the gap left behind. One that would at least slow the fire, came the selfish thought. "Not all at once."

Emma gritted her teeth. She couldn’t. She can’t. She had to. They were all as good as dead without Lily’s healing… but Determination wouldn’t like this, she knew. He had said so in no uncertain terms: She had to stop using the Tulpas as sacrifices.

But could she just watch her friends die? Worry about the lives of her Tulpas while real peop-

No, no, that wasn’t fair. She couldn’t not think of Determination as a person, not after the week they’d spent at Zhang’s manor, and she also had to accept the very real possibility that her other Tulpas were just the same as him. It was such a fucked situation. A zero-sum game between Tulpas and people, or so it seemed if Ernie was correct about how dire their situation is.

She wanted to tell herself it was a dilemma, but it only took a few seconds to make the decision. She couldn’t bring herself to tell Brent no. She had to get tougher. She had to get harder. She’d decided that, and it was time to follow through. No one dies, no matter what.

Not again.

”Ready.” she said, no uncertainness in her voice. It was Devotion, she decided. The Tulpa appeared by Siena, Brent, and Lily, ”You guys need healing first, right?”

Not Determination. Probably felt bad about it, huh? WIth the pieces in place, all Brent could do was wait, his hand over the goggles as Lily looked about, her mouth slightly ajar with surprise and then amusement. What the hell was she doing, undressing everyone with her mind? A tinge of annoyance emerged, his 'blindness' irritating when so much was going on, but soon, those black threads shot out, one racing through the dirt wall of the tunnel while another linked to the unspeaking tulpa that Emma had manifested. Sucking in a breath, Brent made eye contact with Siena, nodding once.

"Cuff transmit," he spoke, "Lawrence, cover Hazel's body with your own. Lily's going for a heal, so make sure it's not obvious. Once it's mostly done, drag her back into the lighthouse. Right abo-"

And that was when the injury was transferring, the iron stench of blood striking his senses like a sledgehammer, Lily's expression contorting viciously as a foreign pain invaded her body. She keeled over, thick, crimson ichor seeping through her clothes, and just as quickly, Devotion was eviscerated by the transfer. Amethyst eyes flickered from one to the other. The arbiter shouldn't have to say anymore from here, right? They should be used to this unpleasant method of healing by now.

As the process began, Siena let her focus linger on the events, took her mind far away from the distant feeling of...what was it? Lingering just beneath the surface of the heat, hiding itself as though it didn't want to be acknowledged again. The brunette didn't have time to try and identify it, instead sensing the sharp feeling of pain, not on her. Around her. Near her again. How would they react if she told them how it translated with Victor's name? Though there was a subtle desire to keep it anchored, the brunette knew what she was there for. The agony was silenced, pulled away with speed far greater when she wasn't carefully plucking apart the different strands of pain and sensation. She silenced both, and when the flash of agony appeared again on the shadowy creature before her--

...it felt pain?

For a moment, Siena's brow furrowed, her gaze flicking from the creature to its summoner. Her senses weren't lying to her, but it felt oddly out of place. Taking a quiet breath, the girl muted the pain from the creature too, her hands once more finding solace in picking at her own injury.

"Be careful, Lily. The injuries you take won't feel like anything from this point, but they're still going to be there."

"Callan next," Ernie ordered, "This one's pretty bad."

As he spoke, he looked back to the communicator. Too many dots still outside. With an impatient click of his tongue, he hit the 'All Channels' option. "Pull back. We're retreating back to the tunnels."

"How many of us are still out there?" Marcus asked, his eyes scanning through the sandstorm for Callan's telltale beacon of aquamarine.

"Six."

A pause as he caught sight of Chris' icon roaming around, too fast to be human.

"Seven," Ernie raised the phone to his mouth again, "Chris, get out of the storm. If you can't turn back human, just retreat in any direction but the mansion. There are probably still Amigos there."

"Do we have a plan? Because we're about to end up in the world's worst kind of sandwich." Marcus said, trying in vain to hide the cold fear that snuck through his voice. For all he knew, these were his last moments; he was finding it hard to remain composed given the situation.

Ernie blinked, clearly caught off guard by the question. Had they ever had a plan in the first place?

"We run."

Always running. He'd never stopped.

"The maids should know about the tunnel's other exits. Get everyone in here, block off everything behind so no one follows. Best case scenario, there's another safehouse on the island where we can hide out until the Amigos leave."

"Short and simple. I like it." Marcus said, eyes darting back outside. Truthfully, he hated that plan; if only because of how many times he'd done it already. But there was nothing else that could be done - they were basically outgunned at every available turn. All they could do was run away and regroup, as shitty as it was.

"Got a cart over there to push those that are KO'd," Brent spoke up as Lily continued to transfer, this time lacerations emerging on her body. Painless, she picked at her wounds while the arbiter looked away. "Who else are we missing?"

Emma chewed on her lip, thinking over the plan. Another Devotion appeared in the last one’s place. ”We should hurry up. The longer we wait the worse it’ll get.”

"Zoe, Kusari," Ernie recounted as he ushered Sophia, Christmas and Grant towards the tunnels, "Allison, Chris, Lawrence and our big three. Hurrying is a very good idea."

As he briefly snapped at Sophia and her birdcage, he could see Sander and Cal moving back already. Good.

That was a lot of people. As the black threads retracted from the dirt, moving instead to the people present in the tunnel, Brent realized that he could feel his lower half again. From the tips of his toes to his pelvis to the fact that...yeah, he figured that was the case. Bouncing up to his feet and deciding that he was definitely going to have to make Lily donuts again, the arbiter brought his x-ray goggles to his own eyes, an amethyst light radiating from its lenses. The map was useful, but only for tracking allies. Their enemies, however...

Filter out the dirt. Filter out the sand. Filter out the rain. Filter out the walls. Filt-

Too far still. It was no longer the limitation of the x-ray capabilities of his equipment, but more a matter of range. Clicking his tongue, the arbiter decided not to burn through it and lifted it down. Just silhouettes, uncountable and getting farther away. A breath of...relief? or disappointment?

"Looks like they're booking it too," Brent reported, ignoring the dampness in his nether regions. "Just gotta watch out for the group that attacked the mansion now."

It was too late for Siena to protest by the time she'd realized that the quickly dampening sense of pain included her own. The cut that she'd been picking at absentmindedly had healed, her ankle no longer throbbing, her shoulder no longer tender. She would have said something, should have, but there were too many other things to focus on. Things like people that weren't present, hostiles that weren't accounted for, hostiles that were. Brent's mention of the group at the estate sent another mixture of fire and ice through Siena's spine, sapping another portion of self-control to keep from turning Vale's abilities against anyone. Fury and fear, something in between. She could still sense pain, but it was distant and fuzzy. Too far away to make out more than a presence, like watching the horizon.

"How likely is it that we'll actually get everyone back?" Despite her best efforts, the words came out flat, quieter than she'd wanted them to. Not enough behind them to cross the border of hollow--or maybe it was because she knew they were. Siena didn't have time to linger on the thought, her focus redirected to crafting the next words with careful precision. How many are acceptable sacrifices? No...she couldn't say it like that. Her fingers picked more violently at a wound that wasn't there, pinching skin to no avail. "I don't think everyone out there is prone to listening to reason. I doubt it's wise to wait until they will."

”Doesn’t matter. If they don’t want to retreat we’ll make them. We’re outmatched.” Emma sighed, tousling her hair, ”If we’re getting out there for the injured we should do it now. Before the other group decides to show up.” Emma said, turning towards the lighthouse door. The form of Determination grew next to her, ”You ready?” she asked both him and the others.

For once, it seemed, the Tulpa didn’t respond, offering only a curt nod.

"And how do you propose convincing a dragon to retreat?" Siena questioned, the concern legitimate despite the not-quite-there intonation. Not that Chris was the only one that applied to--if it came down to it, Siena had her doubts on whether Zoe or Kusari would retreat. There was an emphasis on the former, the latter a concern if only because Siena's experiences with the regenerating Arbiter had been rocky, at best. She might be willing to back down, but memories of their disaster of a rescue attempt refused to let the bookish mage believe it would be an entirely simple task. "Going out there blindly will probably only get you hurt. It won't prevent anyone else from burning."

Quietly, without hesitation, Siena let her eyes trail back down to her phone, emotion trying to wage war on reason, but crippled by the presence of someone that struggled to feel far too many things. Not quite whole. Not quite there. A pause as she considered the next words. "I don't feel many significant injuries remaining, but there is a constant static of pain on who I assume are our teammates. Going out without a solid location or escape plan will only increase the number of people that will have to be carried back through other means."

His student was full of all sorts of surprises today. Ernie kept track of the discussion with an anxious ear. He'd been thinking the same thing of course, but it was Siena who managed to voice them. Something he probably wouldn't have had the guts to do.

"The ones out there know the consequences of staying," Ernie started cautiously, thinking of Zoe's words, "And that's their choice. They wouldn't want us getting ourselves fucked up from going out there and trying to give them help they never wanted."

Emma gritted her teeth. She wasn’t going to win this argument, maybe Siena could be swayed, maybe, but Ernie? Plus, she had no doubt Brent wouldn’t be interested in batting for her side. She couldn’t do anything by herself, could she?

Instead of continuing, Emma stood silently. A sharp ”Fine.” was what she finally offered. It looked like she wasn’t so courageous after all.

As soon as she had reached Lawrence and Hazel, Callan wasted no time in lifting the aberration girl's limp body, slinging her carefully over one shoulder as easily as one might move a sack of styrofoam peanuts. As much as she distrusted Hazel for what she'd done, she of course would never consider leaving her behind. Doing her best to keep Hazel facing away from the sandstorm's source, she extended a hand towards Lawrence, offering to lead the way since the piercing bits of earth, though distracting, didn't seem to cause her actual harm. "Ready?!" she shouted above the abundance of noise.

Lawrence took the hand with relief, glad that they seemed to finally be doing the sensible thing and pulling back. The old adage 'No plan survives contact with the enemy' was one thing, but it seemed like every conflict they involved themselves in ended up in an uncontrollable cluster fuck that finished worse than it began. They had, seemingly, accomplished nothing again, although that was hardly surprising given who they were trying to take down. There was a reason he had stopped Zoe from running out, now in spite of that he wasn't even sure she was still alive.

Still, a few of them were, and they needed to salvage what they could.

“Yeah, let's get out of here quick as we can.”

Callan gave a curt nod and pulled Lawrence to his feet, shifting her grip to his arm. She held on tightly, pulling him forward at an almost uncomfortably fast pace considering the piercing sandstorm. The lighthouse wasn't too far away, allowing the three mages to reach the door without much trouble otherwise. Sand and storm violated the room as soon as Callan turned the knob and the heavy door flew open with a loud crash. Laying Hazel down, she made quick work of closing it. With a shuddering sigh, she turned around to survey the room. The bloodied yet uninjured Lily stood amidst the majority of her classmates, one new face, and a few staff members. Only a few.... "Oh-- fuck!" she gasped.

Honestly, it was a bit of a relief to Lawrence seeing how many of their classmates were left. While he wasn't going to say their lives were worth more than the people on the island, he still at least had a more personal connection to the team than the locals. While not everybody had gathered there yet, a lot of the ones that would have the hardest time surviving had, and that was almost as good as he could hope for.

So, in contrast to the mage beside him, he breathed a sigh of relief.

“Looks like most of us made it out.”

Most, but not all. Not a number Callan felt satisfied with. Especially considering how many they'd already lost.

"There's some staff missing," she said, tense, "I can't just leave them out there."

“Do you even know where they're at?”

Most people Lawrence would oppose leaving- and even would actively prevent from doing so. Callan wasn't exactly someone that was easy to kill under normal circumstances though, and he wasn't exactly keen on abandoning people to die even if he himself wouldn't make the attempt under the current circumstances. He was keenly aware of what his limits were.

Callan paused, as if the thought hadn't even occurred to her. She remembered where they'd been. Then that aberration boy appeared and the sandstorm picked up. She hadn't seen any of them since.

"No, but I'll find 'em. They can't be far. Probably just couldn't find their way back to the lighthouse in the storm."

“Yeah, but if they can't find their way to a large building in the storm, how are you going to locate them? You can't stumble around blind Callan.”

Ungrateful was perhaps one word to describe the look Callan shot Lawrence in response to his remark. With a derisive scoff, Callan turned and reached for the doorknob.

"I'll be fine," she said sharply, "Got you and Hazel back here without any trouble, didn't I?"

Another group of people that had made it, and Siena couldn't help but feel some faint surge of relief, but the Arbiter had to flick her eyes through the faces. People she recognized as teammates, a few stray faces that were blurry-but-familiar memories of the estate, a face she didn't quite recognize. Was that safe? A cool reaction to the chaos at hand. There were still faces missing. Zoe, for one. Chris too, but in their situation, he would have changed forms, right? A dragon was more durable than a human in most aspects. Crimson eyes flicked back up to take another headcount. Hazel was unconscious, and--oh no.

'What is she doing?' The thought hadn't even managed to clear before Victor's influence took over. A sharp lash of pain, carefully measured, carefully imitated, and calmly dispensed as though it were simply a scolding. Not enough to completely shut someone down, but enough to stop the average person. Victor's influence, her actions. Siena felt her eyes widen a fraction as she registered exactly what she was doing. Surprise and horror melded into a new being, stronger and more vicious than either one on its own. The girl took a sharp, quiet intake of breath, started to remove the sensation, but then felt a chilling demand stop the action.

'Continue. They'll never listen if you don't show them how monstrous you can be.' It was hard to distinguish whether those were her own thoughts, but it was easy enough to obey them. If she could have averted her gaze from her target, she would have. Didn't want to see the reaction. Didn't want anyone to see that she might revel in creating a new tapestry that they would never know. Instead, the brunette clenched her fists, grit her teeth, and wished she hadn't started what she didn't want to finish.

It took a moment before Callan realized the bad feeling as her hand wrapped around the door's handle was far more literal than she was comfortable with. She froze, retracting her hand in alarm as if the metal could be the source. What the hell was that? Like the distant memory of a dull ache in her muscles. Her previous injury? No, not that. Brow furrowed in confusion, she reached for the door again.

The feedback was...not nearly enough. Siena shouldn't have been surprised, but the brunette couldn't stop herself from blinking once or twice in surprise. In the back of her head, quietly, there was the soft influence again. Victor's distance, her father's influence, a desire left behind to fix, protect, heal. Had Siena not stopped the second attempt before it could start, she was certain that Vale wouldn't have hesitated to increase the output. That she wouldn't have hesitated to let it get worse to prove what she could, would do if she had to.

"Callan, wait." The words came out flat again, not quite there again. The gap between herself and her emotions. Crimson eyes didn't tear away from her roommate, holding back the instinctive urge to use pain to convince instead of words. Not her. Or...her? Lines were blurring too quickly. "It's...unwise to go back out there."

'Because I can't guarantee that I won't go further.'

The feeling came again, followed by Siena's voice. Even then, Callan didn't put two and two together until she turned around and noticed her fellow arbiter staring at her with crimson eyes. A look of stunned betrayal crossed her face before she could try and mask it. Unwise? Zoe... Hazel... now Siena? Her temper flared, but she resolved not to address exactly why. Now wasn't the time.

"I'm not letting anyone else get left behind!" Callan retorted stubbornly, "So whatever the hell you're trying to do, you can stop now."

"It's not a matter of leaving them behind." Siena did her best to ignore the look of betrayal that crossed Callan's face, felt a pang of relief over the fact that Victor couldn't feel things like guilt or remorse without a thick blanket stifling it, and kept her own expression as level as possible. Necessary. This was absolutely necessary, she told herself. She withdrew the pain, held herself in check, and crafted the next words with carefully calculated precision. "With Hazel unconscious, our only immediate offensive potential if we meet the group from the estate is Sander, and I doubt that what people are combat ready are going to be enough to protect those that aren't."

Crimson eyes flicked toward the door, thought of the people outside briefly.

"Chris is probably not foolish enough to stay out there without becoming a dragon. That should be enough to protect and retreat with the others." After all, he'd already carried three on his back once. There was little doubt in the Arbiter's mind that he would be able to manage it again if necessary. Cautiously, the girl crafted a lie. A pristine one, immediate and unflinching. "The strongest barrier I could produce couldn't stop one shot from the group at the mansion. If we come across them, we'll need you."

Siena spoke and Callan listened, though she was taken a bit off guard by her way of speaking. The idea of putting so little faith in the other offensive mages and yet so much in Chris alone wasn't enough to budge her resolve, nor her expression. Siena's final statement did, however, carry with it a visual impact. Brent and Siena had witnessed what was on the other side of the tunnel. What had killed Greg and likely several soldiers by now. It was a strategic retreat after all. It wasn't ideal, but what else could they do?

But still-- it didn't feel right. Callan couldn't get the image out of her head. A short, measly row of mages in black and white standing between them and an unknown enemy. Risking their lives to try and keep them safe. Was it vain to assume they weren't capable of handling themselves? She grit her teeth, knuckles white. Maybe it was the wrong decision... but it was how she had to do it. Nobody else needed to die here. She could do both.

"I understand... but I can't. I'm sorry, but I have to go! They need help!" she declared, trying to keep a level head. Stay. Go. She could do both. "I'll be right back!" At that, Callan spun back to face the door, wrenching it open.

'No, no, no!' Everything fell apart in one fell swoop. Siena tried her best to piece things back together, Victor demanded that she either let go or cut loose. She could stop Callan. Probably. If she stopped holding back how far she was willing to go. If she dropped everyone in the immediate area and sacrificed control of output, then even with Cal out of sight, then...! The Arbiter felt the surge attempt to rise, felt herself plucking at strands of memories of how many times she'd experimented with the sensations that she could create while Vale was guiding her, and then everything ground to a screeching halt when her attention was brutally wrenched back to ground level by the sound of their cuffs coming to life with voice.

"They have Angel, at least... I think they do. Anyway, I have a plan. Though, it could easily kill Angel if they do have her, so if anyone has a better plan, share it. Otherwise, Chris, I'll need you to land near the lighthouse. Prepare for takeoff immediately. Zoe and Kusari, you'll need to be ready to jump on immediately."

What?

She had nowhere else to turn that surge, so she pulled it in, turned it against herself, and bit her lip until she tasted copper, grimaced and swore under her breath as she just as quickly dampened it into a dull ache that kept her where she needed to be. Too late. Callan was gone, lost in the static of the outside and far beyond her ability to accurately pinpoint with Victor's draining presence, and the others were going to be pulled into a suicide mission just as reckless as the one she'd agreed to with Brent. Damn it. Her fingers scraped at the screen of her phone, the dull ache sharpening into something more severe to hold back another wave of heat that threatened to close the distance that Victor had created. Through grit teeth, she searched for a new mark as the crimson started to slip back into the storm.

As soon as she'd swung the door shut behind her, pulling against the harsh sands with ease thanks to her super strength, Callan bolted towards the place she last remembered seeing any of the staff members. It was a relief not to feel the unsettling itch of Siena's ability as she left. Perhaps that wasn't the best sign that she had Siena's blessing, but it was better than being attacked. She was getting pretty fed up with having to keep an eye out for both her foes and friends. Allison's transmission alone was certainly enough to send her nerves into a tumultuous offset, however. What kind of plan was that? Jump on Chris and start flying to the ferry? They had no idea what was over there!

One thing at a time!, she urged herself with a curt shake of her head, resuming her run through the raging sands, searching for any sign of white ruffles and black fabric.

A week deadline. As usual, for any questions refer to the GMs.

Two maids are in the lighthouse lobby, swept off their feet but alive. A maid and butler are in the tunnels with the students who retreated.

Ernie and Christmas had already gone on ahead, the coast declared clear by the rope-slinging aberration. Emma, Marcus, Lily, and Sophia, despite being as wet as they all were, appeared to be in relatively good shape as well, but as for the birdcage the seer brought with her...that soaked bundle of feathers didn't look all too good. A wince, instinctive, but then Brent realized that he didn't even know whose bird it was. Did the brunette have a bird? Or was that just one of many pets were brought along for the ride?

Still, no one looked as if the flood had killed them immediately, and slowly, the waters were draining out, deeper into the tunnels. His boots squelched against the path, turned a quagmire by the seawater. The stench was still ever present, but it masked or washed away more unpleasant odors and soon, he was walking towards the only person who remained standing, remained silent. Siena, sporting unnaturally blue eyes, that of a painting rather than a photo of the sky.

In her own little world already, eh? Complete with sighs and gestures and all that stuff.

"Yo," Brent said, slapping her on the back, "Don't space out now, 'ena. Still don't have any sort of confirmation regarding the mansion group."

The connection faded out before the name, an odd sensation of knowing that it was still there, but still the girl remained in place, took a moment to regain herself. Heat still burning dimly beneath the surface, the same and yet entirely different from the one she'd harbored before being doused in seawater. Not hers. At least that much, she knew. Siena took another soft breath to try and soothe it, only ended up feeling another shiver creep through her--cold this time, not fear--and told herself that she needed to start thinking of what to do next. Absentmindedly, her thumb swiped across the screen of her phone, scrolling through selections despite her eyes being focused on something not there.

'Hopefully Chris will get back t---WHA?!'

Had she been in a state further from frozen to the ground, her reaction might have been more violent, more combat oriented, but between the chill and her draining stamina, Siena did the next best thing in her repertoire. Her body stiffened, back straightening at the impact, eyes snapping up--it was like watching an animal learn how to play dead while standing compressed into a split second. The remainder of the name escaped all at once, blue eyes swallowed once more by grey as her heart remembered how to beat again.

"J-Jesus Christ, Brent," the girl breathed while slowly allowing herself to relax as much as she usually would, a strained, hollow weary shadow of a smile crossing her lips out of instinct. "Glad you didn't do that ten seconds ago, I guess."

She really must have been out of it if she figuratively leapt up into the air with surprise. Taking a small step back, Brent managed a not-really grin as well. "What, were you gonna sucker punch me like Marcus?"

"Ten degrees prevented that, n-not ten seconds." Despite her best efforts, the girl couldn't keep another shiver from marring the words. Taking a deep breath and wringing at the bottom of her slip with one hand, the brunette glanced up, her attention somewhere beyond the "ceiling" above them. "Chris should be regrouping with the others. Hopefully we'll be in one group again soon."

Her gaze dropped from the ceiling, and she wondered if it would be less draining to allow the division to stay in place.

"How high do you think the chances are that the group at the estate has been eliminated already?"

That mind link technique then. Useful stuff, if it could let her communicate with people whose locations were unknown. Well, if Chris of all people were moving about on the surface, it was a good indication of the states of Callan and Sander, at least. Kusari was functionally invincible as well, which left only...Allison and Zoe. He clicked his tongue, glancing over at Siena's soaked form as well, before making a snap decision. The dragon wasn't in combat anymore, and perhaps that great flood was simply the Amigos' last warning for Unit B not to pursue. So now...

"Let's get upstairs first," Brent said, shrugging off his parka, "If the estate group can evade gunfire from Zhang's guards for an extended period of time, I'm fairly certain they're still alive and kicking. Probably knew to run when things got bad. We have a better chance in broad daylight though."

Least they'd be able to see the laser beamer coming, considering how the neighboring forest had been all but razed by flame and rot.

"You got dunked during the flash flood, right? Take your clothes off and put this on before you freeze to death."

'...huh?'

Siena blinked once in surprise at the suggestion, attention falling on the offered parka as the words rewound, sounded off in her head, and--nope. The reaction was still something along the lines of what the hell?

"U-Um...?" Eyebrows rose in a mixture of surprise, confusion, and...that was about all that managed to reach through the stifling. It took a moment longer before the logic of the statement started to settle in, thought coming to mind in efficient, quick bursts. Like bullet points more than real thoughts. Freeze to death. Hypothermia. Right, she was practically freezing. It wouldn't do much good to put on a jacket over wet clothing. It made much more sense when she thought about it.

'No, it doesn't?!'

"Thanks, but uh..." A pause. "You want me to what?"

Was it really that strange? Surely she had read those winter survival stories before, where it was the water chill, not the wind chill, that killed people? Reciprocating her 'what the hell' with his own equally baffled expression, Brent said, a little defensively, "What? Doesn't that make more sense than mutual nudity followed by body heat sharing?"

'H-huh?!'

Another blink, and had the division been smaller, Siena was certain the reaction would have been stronger. For a moment, she was left with a vocabulary that consisted of a few confused sounds, the word "what", and very little else. The fact that Siena doubted that there was anything beyond some form of concern didn't make the concept less startling. Her fingers dug deeper against the fabric of her slip, pulling the thin fabric against her skin, peach tones peeking through the areas where the clothing was pulled taut.

"I...uh, I don't th--" Siena cut herself off, a nagging feeling in the back of her head telling her that she probably didn't want to know how much worse that particular topic could get. Somewhere, she imagined, Gerwulf was throwing a fit--no, he wasn't.. "I...suppose that's fair enough."

...was she actually about to comply...?

Gingerly, she reached for the parka, another shiver running through her at the slight distance between her arm and her core. It didn't alleviate the cold, only making her more aware of the fact that water was still dripping off her hair, still soaking through her now-pointless coat, and clinging to her skin.

"Mhm," Brent nodded, handing it over. "Dunno what a safe place would be to change, but..."

Awkwardly turning around and using his own body to form some shitty human-shaped curtain between Siena and the others, the amethyst eyed arbiter shrugged lopsidedly. "I guess...go ahead?"

For a moment, Siena wondered how wise it would be to dart as far down the tunnels as she could to try and find an appropriate place to change. Not very. God forbid she came across another hostile...maybe she should have used a name to provide herself the privacy? No...that was petty in and of itself, and what would she have done that didn't attract more attention? Throw up walls? Turn invisible--that was a good one.

...but it would be a waste of her quickly diminishing reserves, said the cool, level-headed part of her. Only one way to go about it then, really.

Slipping her phone into the pocket of the dry article of clothing, Siena held it carefully with one hand, awkwardly undoing what buttons remained of her coat, shrugging off one shoulder at a time until it fell--it was so cold!--from its place, hitting the floor with a heavier thump than she'd hoped for. Grimacing, the brunette did the best she could to make quick work of the slip, peeling it off her skin where it stuck, shivering again when her hair started clinging to her, dribbling water on every available surface.

At least, she thought, there was nothing to really stare at.

With as much speed as she could muster, the brunette pulled the parka over her, secured it, and deftly pulled the hood up, bowing her head slightly as though it might aid in hiding her face.

...at least she was a little warmer.

"Done?"

"Y-yeah."

He turned.

"Wow, definitely brings out a different side to the outfit."

Heat, this type far removed from what she was used to, spread across the girl's face, quickly masked by the action of turning her face down and away.

"Wh-what's that supposed to mean?"

Brent grinned teasingly. "Indeed, what is that supposed to mean?"

Too lax though. They weren't out of it yet. The smile was removed once more, and he turned around a second time.

"Give me a sleeve, 'ena. Dry clothes probably won't be enough."

"Um...okay...?" While she'd seen what Brent was capable of, Siena hadn't considered the idea of enhancing clothing. What exactly was he going to do? Make it...even more dry? A burning curiosity started to catch, gnawing and chewing at the corner of her mind. It would be an interesting experience. As she stretched an arm toward the boy, her mind caught on to a different anomaly. "You...probably don't need to be turned around?"

"For your sake rather than mine," Brent said. "I'd recommend closing your own eyes too. Just saying."

Well, now that he told her that, the arbiter was dead certain Siena was going to keep her eyes opened the entire time. Feeling for her arm, his fingertips grazed her own, before sliding up and catching the cuff of the puffy parka. A connection was formed and from there, silver circuitry raced down his arm, flowed into the waterproof apparel, fused with the puffy down beneath, and filled the parka entirely until it was sheer silver light.

Then, it exploded, silvery threads and cloud-like feather down bursting outwards before reforming, becoming a coat that made her look much less like the Michelin Man. White with silver accents, the N0 NAME 'brand' was emblazoned on the back of the overclocked parka, while a faint, almost inaudible whining could be heard from that same area. Heating wires, powered by magic, suffused the coat with a comfortable warmth.

"Not a fashion designer," the arbiter smiled, "So I'll apologize for my lacking design sense. But hey, this should warm you up better than a mug of hot choco."

For her sake? And closing her eyes? Siena tried to rack her mind for signs of Brent's ability, but it occurred to the girl then that she'd never been able to focus entirely on its activation. The results spoke for themselves, but if there were averse effects, was it really wise for Brent to work his magic while she was wearing the item? Had he enhanced the goggles before or after he'd had them on Lily? She didn't remember in time to raise any protests before the parka shone with a silver light. Maybe that was why he'd suggested closing he--

'WHAT THE FUCK?!'

IT EXPLODED. Siena felt her heart stop in place for a second, eyes wide, voice and breath catching full stop in her throat as her body stiffened again, every muscle tensing until she was practically frozen in place. Raucous swearing and panic continued to deafen her ears as she remained frozen in place after the clothing had reformed, and Siena wasn't certain whether there had actually been any effect or whether the warmth was from a well blended concoction of mortified embarrassment.

"I--that--it ju--" Words were failing her, but then again so were thoughts at that exact moment. Evidently so was moving because still Siena remained rooted in place, looking much akin to a deer in the lights of an oncoming bus.

"Uh..." Wow, was he just accidentally triggering all her childhood trauma today? "Surprise?"

Surprise? Had the division not been firmly set in place, Siena was certain that she would have done more than pause long enough to take a careful breath to calm the rampant thoughts in her head.

"I'd say so, yeah." The words carried more than before, but it still wasn't quite enough for the situation, she supposed. The brunette thought back, again. Didn't he have to remain in contact to maintain the enhancement? That hardly seemed convenient or practical.

...but damn, if she wasn't feeling warmer already.

"But uh...thanks..." A pause. "This doesn't really seem like the most convenient way to move though..."

Brent pulled on the cuff until the fabric stretched over Siena's hand, before holding it there.

"Well, by the time it becomes wholly inconvenient, you'll be warmed up enough that the regular parka would do." A pause, and then a smile. "Better get up to the lighthouse before Christmas starts powerbombing Ernie, eh?"

Odd. It was undeniably odd that Siena didn't feel an instinctive need to try and pull her hand back. The thoughts that told her as much were disturbingly level and calm, as though reciting facts from an encyclopedia rather than really having input on the matter. Usually, that chilling part of her claimed, she would have tried. Had never really liked having unplanned contact, even if she did initiate it. Always the faintest brushes, just enough to elicit an appropriate response, not more. Never more.

The thoughts, she understood in equal measure, were simply covering for the guilt that was bubbling up in the pit of her stomach. Thick and dark, like tar that stuck to anything it touched, and covering everything with a generous coat as though it understood anything less would never make it past the chasm. Powerbombing--she'd know a lot about that, wouldn't she?

Such comprehension was tucked neatly away behind a half empty return of a smile. Equal measure. Equal return. There, but not entirely. Drained of what might have made it seem more genuine because she was just as drained. "Fair enough on both counts." She tried, to no avail, to put more into the words. Into the reflexive smile. Too tired, too weary, and Siena wasn't entirely certain that was only a physical exhaustion. How many more times would she have to...no. Better not to finish that thought, so instead, she filled the space with action. An awkward forward step to test the range of movement--it was about what she had expected. Not much practicality in moving if Brent wasn't too--not unless she intended to push him along. Her free hand slipped into her pocket, fingers tracing her phone for comfort as she spoke again. "I guess I'll follow your lead here."

"Then allow your loyal knight, Hathaway of Amaryllis, to escort you off this dreadful underground prison," Brent replied whimisically, walking off slowly, "Though the light at the end of this harrowing journey may merely be moonlight, a reflection of transient hope, it is this unworthy vassal's desire to see his charge attain a more tranquil state of mind. The darkness before daybreak has been a tiring time after all, Lady Maria, and if you do not wish to entertain this foolhardy knight's tittle-tattling, I beseech thee to rest thy razor tongue and thy beauteous countenance. From the vanguard, I benefit little from both, after all."

There was no need to turn around and no need to await any further response at that point. Brent had shot himself enough times in the heart for that little speech, after all. It really was weird, how he still wasn't tired even after all this crap. Maybe he really was better off as a human battery after all. Or a human bullshit spewer.

'What the hell?' It wasn't an exasperated thought, nor was it one of legitimate confusion. The words, though of little importance in and of themselves, Siena could grasp the idea of. A flicker of a smile, closer to real, closer to crossing the gouges, crossed her expression as she followed behind, her pace matching. He really did put everything he had into everything, didn't he? How unnervingly familiar.

And yet...

"You...don't have to do that." The words were as sincere as she could make them, but they were soft, quiet enough to carry little more than the small distance between them. Because even if, through the thick, suffocating blanket that she relied on so heavily, she appreciated the gesture, Siena didn't doubt for a moment that whatever payoff she could give wasn't worth it. "I'll be fine." Later, at least, when she had enough time to put up the walls again, to pick apart what deserved to stay and what didn't before compartmentalizing the rest as not her. Unvoiced thoughts that she pushed back because why the hell would she ever voice those out loud?

"But...thank you."

And despite it all, at least those words were real.

There was more to it. He did want to say more, after all. Want to be more direct. Want to be a little more honest. But Brent bit down on the tip of his tongue and decided against such self-satisfaction. Her gratitude was enough, and ultimately...he didn't have to tear apart her shell every time they talked. So the amethyst eyed youth chose to enjoy that small spot of warmth felt through the heated parka instead, the two of them trudging along in comfortable silence. A comfortable silence that became a little more tense as they arrived at the final obstacle, the ladder, once more.

"So...we doing this ladies first deal again?" Brent asked, turning around to get a look at Siena's complexion. "Or shall I take the initiative here and clear the path of any ruffians that may block your way?"

It felt like every time she saw this very ladder, there was something to prevent an easy climb. Grey eyes trailed up the rungs until their ending point before quickly coming back to a level position. At least this time, the obstacle wasn't something as severe as each of them having two limbs incapacitated. A fascimile of a nervous upward tic of the mouth, an imitation of the memory of a real one, appeared on command, the action made more to convince anyone around them than either participant in their conversation. Her fingers trailed once more over the screen of the phone in her pocket.

Without the imminent and overpowering need and desperation to reach the surface...

"I...believe I'll take the rear this time." Another strained imitation of a smile as she finally removed her hand from her safety blanket, motioning at the bare skin below the hem of the parka. "Given the circumstances."

"Makes sense," Brent replied, before that same teasing grin emerged once more, "Make sure you watch your back, eh? Emma might poke Marcus's eyes out if he gets an eyeful."

With those parting shots, the mega ultra smooth operator ascended three rungs at a time to avoid any sort of wrath Siena might bring down upon him.

"...And what are you? A fucking coward, that's what. You act as if life is stacked unfairly against you, but what have you done to counteract it? Every single problem that comes your way, you break down. Every death destroys you, but you've done nothing to prevent them, and don't fucking tell me you have. You aren't powerless. You never fucking were. You lied to everyone, and look where that got us! How much suffering could have been prevented, huh? When she was surrounded, you could have done something. Don't tell me that girl and her brother are still alive, they're as good as dead. I don't want to hear the stories of how you nearly saved someone from being killed, but it got out of hand. What's the body count? Ten? Fifteen? Oh, do we get to count ourselves as victims of your crimes, too? We're all fucked because of you!"

"I-I...I'm sorry..."

"No, no you fucking aren't. I'm not the one you should be apologizing to, anyway. This wasn't my project. I wasn't the one who you fucked over, not directly at least... too bad she's not around to put up with your shit anymore. Have a nice life Allison. I hope you and fuckface can live with yourselves." The door slammed shut, dooming them all to their fates.

Christmas had huddled in the corner as long as he could bear while ominous rumbling and pattering debris collided with the lighthouse windows, hoping the next person to enter the door would be Sander, mission accomplished, and they could go. Anywhere but a battleground. Lily took and transferred distant wounds near him and he could still feel the low thrum of his power on Sander, but it was hard--impossibly so--to convince himself to move. To stand up and do something more than shake in a corner and hope not to die. Fear shifted to a petrified numbness that at least allowed him the presence of mind to notice Ernie ushering people back into the tunnels, their escape route compromised by god knows what. Peeking out the window only netted him a view of raging sand and rain and Christmas felt relieved that was all he could see. He had tried to look. At least he had looked.

The tunnel had offered a comparatively cozier place to resume his fearful vigil, waiting for the unmistakable frame of a lanky roommate to return. Then the water had come instead, raging into the tunnels and barely held back by the heavy stone and wood of the trapdoor, the current pouring in from every edge and sweeping his feet out from under him, soaking him to the bone as it pushed and shoved him further back in the tunnel until he lay in a coughing, sputtering heap where the water's flow finally ended in puddles and a muddy floor. Freezing. The morning air was cold and the water stole even more of his meager heat away, his thoughts still jumbled and lost in the tide.

It took too long, he felt, for his eyes to orient themselves again. For his vision to stop blurring from the saltwater and dizziness.

The tang of seawater coated his mouth and tongue, but he had already coughed up everything he could.

It was cold. And he just wanted to curl back up under the sheets in the soft bed of the mansion, beside Sander.

Sander. Who was still outside in whatever had caused the flooding.

The muck that had become much of the floor sucked at his arms and legs as he tried to stand, stumbling slightly as he righted himself and looked for the ladder again. By some miracle the dim lights strung along the tunnel's ceiling had remained mostly functional and he could see others recovering from the shock as well. He was shivering, but that didn't matter as much as getting to the ladder and getting to Sander.

He had lost a shoe, maybe further down the tunnel. He couldn't tell. His left ankle ached slightly when he put pressure on it. But he wasn't sure if that meant anything. Sander would know. Would let him sit somewhere soft and warm and find out with him.

He limped, sniffling, towards the ladder, because Sander was still out there and he could feel it--wanted to feel it even as the tingling of his power ebbed and finally disappeared, the prolonged effect dissipating at the worst time.

A wet cough as Ernie clung to the rope. Not that he needed to, as he'd secured it around both wrists about five times each.

He'd scrambled back as soon as the tower of water began blocking the dawn sky. Practically shoved any stragglers or late entries into the trapdoor, uncaring of how they landed in the subterranean sanctuary. He hadn't turned for the maidstaff remaining in the lighthouse, nor for the classmates outside.

The door had slammed shut with the weight of Ernie hanging from the rope that pulled it down. Even that wasn't enough to dam the torrent assaulting them from above, beating and drenching and drowning out everything. But they were alive. He was alive.

Ernie hung there for a moment, shuddering, though it wasn't from the freeze drenching his clothes. Alive, he was alive. The Amigos were possibly still lurking on the island but he was still living and breathing. Even if the weight of imminent death had only been lifted for a minute, he'd take it.

"Here...I--" he spat out another mouthful saltwater as he responded to Brent's role call, "Ernie's still kicking."

Not having noticed Christmas making his way to him, the buzzcut Aberration began making his way up the ladder.

There was someone else climbing up, so Christmas tottered forward, uncooperative ankle hampering his movements until he finally reached the base of the ladder. But it only dawned on him then that he couldn't climb it--not until he could rest his weight on both legs without issue. Yet the thought of Sander outside without the vague comfort that a healing effect persisted on the blood mage propelled the small boy forward and he whimpered as his left leg refused to support his weight without a burst of pain.

The noise prompted the X-mark to turn and regard the small boy with a vague disappointment. He was that desperate to get up, huh? Cringing at the lingering flooding that poured with the action, Ernie began pushing at the trapdoor.

"Give me a sec to check if the coast is clear," Ernie said.

He was shaking and his grip on the rungs was precarious at best, but Christmas waited, because he had to. Because he was sure he couldn't push past Ernie even if dared to.

Ernie finally got the trapdoor open, rope stiff and primed like a snake about to strike. Hazel eyes peeked up and scanned the ground floor. Nothing. Just two maids who were ungracefully flopped on broken furniture like a bunch of wet towels. There was also that blue light in the distance, a distasteful sight that brought back the anxiousness he'd failed to repress during the battle. Old rumors of glowing Amigos and a 'bootleg Heph' trickled into his consciousness but...

We're safe now. Don't count your blessings.

"Floor's clear!" he announced to his classmates and lifted himself out.

But it took Christmas too long to get up the ladder and every other step the boy seemed to whimper pathetically. By the time he pulled himself out of the trapdoor he was crying, wiping streaks of mud onto his face with the dirty sleeve of his sweater as he tried to stymie the tears. Even that couldn't distract him from limping to the door, water splashing in his wake as he pushed it open to look for Sander.

"Whoa, whoa, you can't go out there!"

Christmas was pulled back roughly, held by both of Ernie's arms. There was still too much, too many people rushing around. Chris had bounded off. Sander was nowhere to be seen. Callan was running somewhere.

And Zoe.

He prayed that the situation would resolve itself. The battle still seemed so far from being over.

"You can't go," Ernie repeated.

”But...S-Sander,” he protested, the open door revealing a battlefield in flooded earth and some segment of a building that had fallen.

Still keeping Christmas in his arms, Ernie kicked the door close. "It's too dangerous."

The healer squirmed, struggling against Ernie’s grip until his bad ankle took the weight again and he cried out, falling forward.

All these strength-building exercises over the last few weeks and he still couldn't lift a freaking kid. Ernie felt gravity take the both of them and did his best to rotate and let his reinforced shoulder take the brunt of the fall. However, Christmas still suffered a knock on his side.

"Shit," Ernie hissed and sat up. His hand was still on the Arbiter's wrist. "Are you okay?"

Nothing but quiet sniffles answered him and it took a moment longer for the healer to finally ask, ”...Where’s Sander?”

Ernie felt that it was counterproductive to answer that. "Are you hurt?"

”Where’s Sander?” The question came faster. More panicked.

"Outside," A rapid-fire answer and a rapid-fire improvisation, "With Callan. Lily already healed him, he shouldn't be hurt at all."

This was pointless.

"Christmas, are you hurt?"

”B-But the water...” Already he was trying to get up, headed for the door again. ”I—I didn’t see him.”

The Aberration pushed him down by the shoulders, gentler this time. He looked to the phone. Thankfully, it was still functioning despite the indoor tsunami.

"Look." He zoomed on Callan and Sander's dots moving up the shore, handed it to Christmas who took the device with a trembling hand and stared at it fervently.

”Th-They’re r-right over there...?” He sat up, then tried to stand again, because if they were so close it should have been fine to go out—

His left ankle collapsed under him, finally unwilling to put up with anymore as the joint throbbed with pain and the blonde boy curled up on his side with his legs against his chest, trying not to sob.

Fuck, fuck, fuck. The last times Christmas cried in his company?

Crimen Culpae 1. Wisford.

Red eyes. Red hands.

Not again.

Ernie squeezed his eyes shut. Panic and hurt easily burst past the feeble barrier he tried to erect. After a few deeps breaths, hazel eyes snapped open.

"Lily, get over here," he called out.

As he waited for the other healer to arrive, the buzzcut boy put a hand on Christmas' shoulder, only to be met with a sharp stiffening of the healer's entire body, the tension knotting up under his fingertips. He tried reassuring rubs and shushing noises, like what his mother always used to do.

"Sander asked me to keep an eye on you," he admitted quietly, "You weren't supposed to get hurt."

Something like 'I'm sorry' tried to leave his mouth. Selfish, perhaps even insincere. Hopefully not. Ernie didn't let that weak solace pass. Neither of them deserved it.

"It sucks."

Of all the people to ask, Sander had asked Ernie to watch him. Mixed feelings collided in his stomach and Christmas was already making excuses for Sander: Ernie was the only one available. Sander was in a rush. No one else was willing to, maybe. It was supposed to make sense, but of all people, why Ernie? It was hard to sift through what he felt about Ernie as well, because there was a dark, seeping something that he didn't want to face. Didn't want to see. He didn't want it to be a part of him--afraid of letting it be.

But of all people, why Ernie?

The question drummed itself against his thoughts, trying to pound out an answer that he didn't have.

Christmas curled up tighter on the waterlogged floor, waiting for that nauseating rush of emotions to pass and for the jabbing pain in his ankle to subside. Even when he could heal himself, it was so slow. And of all people, why Ernie? He squeezed his eyes shut.

Sander chose that exact moment to barge in, still red-eyed and trailing smoke. The sight of Christmas curled up on the floor came focus first, and red eyes immediately flickered to Ernie kneeling nearby. It only took him three strides to get across the room, fists tightened and jaws clenched. Dark rage boiled in his veins alongside the bloodhigh, and Sander had to focus on Christmas so he wouldn’t immediately take Ernie’s head off. With a light tap on Ernie’s shoulder, he signalled for the Aberration to leave.

He hoped the message got across.

It did. Ernie scrambled back immediately. Too late to fix it. Now all he could do was pray for mercy.

Despite the resignation, the rope lingered by Sander and Christmas.

Sander only spared Ernie a brief gaze before leaning down and pressing a warm hand against Christmas' cold cheek, clearly more interested in getting the healer back on his feet.

"Hey." -He called out, stroking carefully -"I'm here."

The scent told him that there was no bleeding wound, but those could have healed before he got here.

Christmas didn't know where to look first, his eyes busy tracing the lines of Sander's face before finally locking with the red gaze. He wanted to ask about Ernie. Why of all people Sander had to ask Ernie, but the words wouldn't come then. Instead he placed a hand on Sander's wrist, lips trembling in place of words until he finally coordinated the right sounds on his tongue. "You're--You're okay..." he murmured, the sound of the confirmation the second most calming thing in the room.

"I'm okay." -Sander confirmed, hands snaking down around Christmas' back to slowly lift the blond boy up from the soaked floor. He then pulled Christmas close, uncaring as the cold water made contact with his heated skin.

Callan slowed to a jog as they neared the lighthouse. Sander sped past her-- eager to get inside it seemed. She immediately saw why as the door flew open and a startled Ernie scrambled away from Christmas, who didn't seem to be doing too well. She lingered in the doorway and exhaled, a faint smile tugging at her expression as she averted her eyes to give the pair some privacy. They certainly seemed to be getting along.

Cal vaguely noticed the terrified expression on Ernie's face (as well as the presence of his rope) before her attention turned back to her previously self-assigned task. Zoe, Allison, and Kusari were going to need some healing more likely than not. She hadn't stuck around long enough to know how much, but figured coming to the lighthouse to fetch someone would be the best course of action. While Sander helped Christmas, Callan stepped back outside, eyes scanning the debris-riddled cliff top as the sun proceeded to bathe everything in a soft, golden light.

A sick feeling, nauseating and heavy, festered in her gut as she caught sight of Kusari.

What was left of her anyway.

Speech and logic felt like foreign concepts in the moment. Unraveling her tongue just before her feet finally budged from the shock, all she managed to shout was, "OH, GOD!" before she started running again.

"W-WE NEED A HEALER!" she screamed, terrified panic clear in her voice, "NOW!"

"Like I told you, nothing you can do will kill me." The memory of Kusari's casual tone and pose as she'd reassured her that day seemed like so long ago.

Meanwhile, Zoe's previous statement rang in her memory as clear as a bell.

"I almost killed Kusari a day after we got here"

Amethyst eyes fell on Zoe as she muttered absurdly to herself. She noted that the telltale veins of death weren't anywhere to be seen, but what had happened here was obvious enough. She lost control. And she'd picked the one person she thought could take it. Rage bubbled up inside her, but was vastly outmatched by the fear. Callan ignored the blabbering redhead and dropped to her knees beside her fellow arbiter's body. Were these just remains or was she still in there? Reaching tentatively for Kusari's shoulder, she felt even more foolish than she had with the dead maid.

But Kusari was invincible, wasn't she? She'd be alright. She was... yes, she'd be fine. The scent of rotting flesh was almost too overpowering for the sick feeling that was still twisting her stomach into knots. One hand over her mouth, Callan grasped her shoulder and gave her a small shake. There was, of course, no response. And to make matters worse, Kusari's head jostled in place with all the weight to be expected of a human husk.

"Kusari?" she whimpered pleadingly, the hope draining from her face.

Realizing the one healer who had any hope of fixing this was still nowhere in sight, Callan screamed again, her voice breaking, "CHRISTMAS!"

He had heard the call for a healer the first time, but Sander was so warm and it felt safer to hope that Lily would answer instead, selfish as it was. When Callan called him by name, though, he blanched and shifted in Sander's arms, trying to stand only to realize his left ankle refused to support him. "Sander, C-Callan's calling..." he tried to explain, "M-My leg..." His eyes tracked the bruising on his legs from the watery tumble earlier, the sock on his left foot loose where the lost shoe had tugged on it before disappearing into the tunnels.

Sander followed the boy's gaze to the wounded feet, and his expression only darkened. He let Christmas lean fully on him, supporting both of their weight with an arm around the healer's waist as he rose to his feet. He didn't really like it when Christmas was using his power, for obvious reason. But Christmas could heal now, and Callan was the one who called, so Sander didn't want to ignore her.

"Okay?" -He asked, looking at the boy's leg now that they were both standing -"We should go help Callan."

Christmas nodded, the only answer he could manage as he wondered how and where he could cut. A reddened scrape on his right knee seemed a good place to start and he limped outside on Sander's support, unable to help the sharp cry that came from seeing the bloodied, rotting mess near Callan. He hid his face against Sander's arm, the image already seared into his mind. A quick scratch of the skin on his knee and a small whimper later, white mist poured out from the wound, spreading slowly as Sander nudged him closer so the mist would eventually reach Kusari. It sparkled to life around their torsos first, before drifting soundlessly towards Callan and Allison, then finally Zoe and Kusari. Skin and muscles knit together on the unconscious immortal and her natural regeneration pushed progress even faster. Minutes later she was mostly whole once more and the last layers of flesh were growing back over her body, looking to all the world like she was sleeping.

Callan followed the mist with her eyes as soon as it appeared, holding her breath and withdrawing her hand from Kusari's shoulder as it surrounded her. The skin reappearing was a good sign. That wouldn't be happening if she was dead, right? Her doubt didn't entirely vanish until the girl's chest, once more containing lungs, began to rise and fall. Callan finally exhaled, relieved tears pooling at the edges of her sight.

Her heart, however, was still pounding in her ears. Rocking back into a sitting position, Callan pressed her fingers to her forehead and tried to calm herself. With the panic dying down, the single remaining emotion was one she knew couldn't be handled recklessly. She'd addressed the issue poorly in the past. Not again. Still, she found it difficult to keep her head level knowing that Kusari had nearly died and felt every second of it. She reached forward and gave Kusari's hand a short squeeze before looking towards the culprit.

"Zoe!" Callan said sharply though she tried not to include any of the animosity building up just at the mere sight of her. It was clear that Zoe wasn't well, but pity was a luxury the abe couldn't afford. Amethyst eyes were cold as ice as they stared, unflinching. As outmatched against Zoe as she knew she was, this wasn't an issue she could ignore. Taking her arm off was one thing. But this....

Recalling the information about stigmas she'd gathered from Emma and Ernie those several weeks ago, it was hard not to relapse into her prior state of thinking. Ernie, Emma, Sander-- they were all her friends. She had to believe that Zoe was more than just her stigma-- but that didn't exactly help her case.

"You wanna explain what the fuck just happened?" she asked. Optimism for an adequate answer was in extremely short supply, but she wanted to be fair. Wanted to be completely justified in what might happen. Especially if this confrontation was about to turn ugly.

Sander simply kept Christmas upright, shifting slightly to keep most of his body between the healer and everything else. He didn't really know exactly what happened, but apparently, it was Zoe who attacked Kusari. There was love lost between him and their former roommate, still, he didn't really wish harm upon the Arbiter. Whatever happened to her, it seemed painful, healing factor or no. And yet, Callan was challenging the very same person who caused that much damage to an immortal. Sander didn't stop her, but he was ready step in, red eyes focused on Zoe.

For a moment, Kusari didn't know where she was. She was cold and dark. Someone was holding her hand, it seemed warm, like a guide out of a murky freezing ditch. It seemed her limbs had grown back normal as well. She blinked as her mind caught up to the fact that she was seeing this from above. She had a slight panic attack. Looking around she saw the others around her and it dawned on her what was happening. No... This isn't happening. I-I can't die, I can't! She tried to reach for her own body, but she had no hands in the first place. A sense of dread pierced into her like a spear, she wanted to scream, to cry out for salvation, but all she could do was watch............

She opened her eyes and saw Callan by her side. It was a nice face to wake up to. Kusari looked up at the aqua haired girl for a moment, and then she remembered why she was on the ground next to a pile of her own rotten innards. The memory of the pain came back to her, the feeling of her body melting into nothing. What was after she couldn't remember. A shiver went down her spine, the feeling of being outside of her body, of having one foot in the door to Hades. She had died. Her breathing quickened, and her eyes became glossy. "Callan..." Her voice was shaky as she tried and failed to hold back tears. She wrapped her arms around the girl, pressing her face into her stomach.

Callan jolted slightly at the sudden contact, but made no effort to move away. Her expression softened for a moment as she looked down at Kusari. Callan had been attacked by Zoe before, but she couldn't even begin to imagine what it would be like to have her guts melted out in the same way and still be alive through it all. She wrapped her arms around Kusari's shivering shoulders and stroked her hair gently. Because that was what she'd probably want after such an experience. Plus she didn't like seeing Kusari like this. In her mind she was always something of a pillar of confidence. She only wished her sweatshirt hadn't been so sopping wet and cold from the water.

Tears of empathy and frustration spilled over her own cheeks-- goddamn hugs always did this to her. She did her best to blink then away as she turned her attention back to Zoe, expression immediately hardening again as she awaited an answer.

It took a few seconds for the words to get through to Zoe, her breathing still unsteady as she raised a tear-stained face towards Callan. For better or worse, the attack on Kusari had at least erased most of her panic, but it was hard to register her classmate's question. She seemed angry. "I did something." Zoe blinked slowly, trying to regain her usual confidence. What happened? There had been the water, and the fear, and then--

The redhead's expression twisted in horror upon seeing Kusari and the gory mess that surrounded her. Not at the gore itself, but at the sudden understanding. "That was me?" A statement, not a question, even if she seemed uncertain. It wasn't the first time she'd completely given herself over, and the scene was all too familiar. Trying to figure things out for herself as much as for the others. "Water is-- I panicked. Wanted it to stop, and something felt good, so I chased it. Didn't realise what I was doing." She shook her head, frowning. "No excuse."

"You're kidding," Ernie muttered a bit too loudly, clearly not taking whatever Zoe was trying to dish out. He was standing further away as to avoid not just Sander, but also the gory pool staining the scene. His rope was poised at his feet, ready to react to whatever the situation was leading up to.

"She lost control." -Sander stated the obvious. He was no stranger to the devastating effect of the Stigma, and what Zoe did just gave him another reason to look out for her. Regardless of her friendly demeanor the other night.

Callan's grimace went slack at Zoe's response, her rage temporarily diffused. She didn't know what she was doing? She'd expected belligerence like before. A snap back to shut up and back off maybe. The thought that she might be bluffing never even occurred to her until Ernie spoke up.

"Zoe, you, like... killed her," Callan stated, for lack of better phrasing, "What-- what are we supposed to do with you?" The collar Hazel wore came to mind, but she immediately felt dirty for considering it. Something about whatever Hazel had gone through had made her... not right. For all her frustration, she didn't want to see Zoe become just like that. But she didn't want people turning into zombified husks either.

"If I knew, I'd do it myself." The retort was more tired than aggressive. "Tried everything I could think of, but..." She trailed off, frustrated. Trying to fight it head-on wasn't working, and she'd never known how to do anything else.

"Well clearly the school doesn't care if you keep this up-- but you do, right? What are you gonna do when somebody dies for good?" Callan replied, frustration mounting. She had no solutions. Only emotions that were suddenly crashing together like a pile up of cars. And Zoe was the semi-driver in back with the lead foot. They'd just been run out of another temporary home. People were dead, some were missing, and the state of the washed up cliff side was a sight so desolate and pitiful that she didn't want to accept it as her reality. But it was. And she wasn't just fighting against mages who wanted to do harm.

She was fighting with them. Hazel, Zoe... even SIena now.

"What are you gonna do when it's not Kusari?! Or when it's too late for Christmas to heal her?! Is this getting worse or better, Zoe?! Because it's kinda fucking important that we all know!"

"Are you done?" Zoe glared at the floor, pushing away what was left of the staff member she'd collided with. There was plenty of reason for the others to be pissed at her, but this wasn't exactly helpful. She was giving herself enough crap without this adding to the pile. "Yeah, it's worse than it was when I got here. Happened after one of those dreams. And it keeps getting more material to throw at me, too. Caring about stopping it doesn't mean I know how." And caring what happened to the others just made the whole thing worse.

She stood up, still not looking at them, but visibly on edge about the whole conversation. "You're not asking me anything I haven't asked myself. If I had to guess, they'll shoot me, but as for what I'll do about it, I don't know." And part of her felt like Callan wasn't looking for an answer.

Kusari's shaking calmed as she felt Callan's hand on her head. It was a nostalgic feeling, but she couldn't tell why. She wasn't paying attention to what the others were saying, she could take a good guess anyhow. Someone berating Zoe, Zoe saying she can't help it. As predictable as the phases of the moon. She didn't want to argue about this, she just wanted to get away. Kusari let out a sniffle as she let go of Callan and stood to her feet. "Don't waste your breath. She's beyond help." Kusari said to Callan, not even looking towards Zoe.

Ernie was tired too. It was bad enough having to deal with Amigos. Stupid Stigma problems from their own teammates just wasn't worth standing around in drenched clothing in the freezing morning air.

Stepping away from the scene for a moment, he spoke into the phone, eager to have something to take him away from all this. "Amigos have escaped on the ferry we were ordered to board. What do we do now?"

Nothing but a garbled, crackly, incomprehensible voice. Ernie had to resist the urge to throw the phone into the ocean. Not that it would have even scratched the stupid thing. He turned back to the group, a resigned look in his haggard face.

"Guys, can we just...go? The town's right there and I don't think we should stick around."

Oh, right. Always a spanner in the works.

"Zoe, can you walk with us? Or should we, like, choke you out or something?"

Callan wasn't sure what she wanted to hear. Definitely not that things were getting worse, but she'd already assumed as much. She chose to ignore Zoe's mentioning of dreams. It wasn't really a conversation she was interested in having right now, but it was certainly something to note. She stood up quickly after Kusari, glancing at her fellow arbiter with a good deal of skeptisicm. Beyond help? For all their sakes, she hoped not. But then... this was supposedly the second time for Kusari. It bothered her to think something like this might've already happened while she was holing herself up in her room.

No way she's walking with us! she desperately wanted to say. But that was the solution she'd offered last time. It wasn't realistic anyway. They were gonna end up here again. The cycle would continue until somebody finally died and she was powerless to stop it. She couldn't save anybody. Again.

She was definitely all for heading into town if it was safe, but she was done talking. She didn't have anything helpful to say and she knew it. Instead Callan simply lingered by Kusari, one foot protectively shifting between the immortal and Zoe as she waited.

"Knock me out if it makes you feel better, but I can walk." Zoe took a step back, deliberately keeping her distance from the others. There was plenty she could try to say, a thousand reasons for why this wasn't so easy to deal with, but at the end of the day it was her problem. Her problem for being weak and unhinged and too dumb to think of a solution. For being stupid enough to believe it was getting better. "Range is two metres, if you wanna stay out of it."

Ernie nodded. "I'll, uh, go tell the others," he said, clearly eager to take off. After informing the cuff operator of the group's next move, back into the lighthouse he went.

"I'll...walk with Zoe, if you want." -Sander volunteered, though he mainly looked at Christmas, still hiding from the grisly sight in front of them with his face pressed against Sander's arm, seemingly asking the blond boy for permission. The healer didn't seem to notice, shoulders shaking visibly from the stress of the situation. This only prompted the blood mage to pat his wet hair gently, trying to get his attention. Instead Christmas hugged Sander's arm tighter, waiting for further instructions or a cue to go, the white mist dispersing around them when nearby talk seemed to indicate everyone was fine.

"Christmas? Maybe you should...walk with Callan?" -Sander suggested, glancing hesitantly between her and the healer.

He knew it had to be done, because for all that he closed his eyes he couldn't avoid hearing the conversation. But of all times, he wanted to be near Sander, and no one else. Still, the question wasn't an option. A strong suggestion--the more appropriate category. And he didn't want to disappoint Sander, so he let go and stood back with his weight on his good leg, hands grasping now at the soaked hem of his muddied sweater and mouth trembling. They all looked miserable, but his was a sort of misery that dropped his shoulders and head as he nodded to Sander's request.

Callan exchanged glances with the blood mage with no small amount of uncertainty. "Sander, you don't have to walk with her," she said, stepping forward anyway as her eyes drifted down towards Christmas's ankle. She recognized the injury almost immediately as one she'd often seen on the basketball court. Of course she had no problem walking with him in Sander's place, but she got the distinct feeling that Christmas didn't like that idea very much.

"But...you don't want me to?"

"I'm just saying..." her eyes narrowed, flickering towards Zoe, "I think she already got her fix."

"Uh..." -Sander fumbled, clearly picking up on Callan's disagreeable mood. Quietly, he gave Zoe one last glance before walking back to Christmas' side, looping an arm around the boy's waist and resuming his walk. Despite the return of Sander's presence, Christmas's expression remained downcast, left ankle raised to keep the pressure off while he limped along beside the taller boy.

Kusari walked along silently, only just barely paying attention to her surroundings. Her eyes were on the ground, not focusing on anything in particular. She didn't feel... right. She put her right hand over her heart, it was pounding hard, but not fast. A tinge of pain? No, it felt more like a ball of anxiety swelling up inside of her. She wanted to lay down under warm covers and sleep in the dark. She scratched at her chest as if it were a slow healing wound. Her skin was devoid of any blemishes, but she could feel that a scar had been etched inside of her from her near death. She lowered her hand and continued walking, forcing her mind clear as she watched her bare feet.

With nothing more to say, Callan made her way over to where Allison was passed out on the ground. She gingerly rolled the girl over and pulled her into her arms, carrying her bridal style. It was a little awkward since they were both the same size, but she figured it would be more comfortable if Allison didn't manage to wake up soon. Weight certainly wasn't an issue. Callan waited that way for Ernie to return with the others, not keen on wandering too far when there still might be Amigos lurking about.

A week deadline. As usual, for any questions refer to the GMs.

The hotel that the town’s inhabitants are currently waiting around in is in the center of town. The rest of the town is mostly empty apart from a few residents here and there.

Chuck is going to be flitting around the outskirts of town, checking buildings for some sort of communication.