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[i]"A future is not given to you. It is something you must take for yourself."[/i]
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[h1][u]Ciara Ventura[/u][/h1]
[i][color=gray]Wingram Academy, Auditorium[/color][/i]
[@Nanaya] [@ERode] [@Psyker Landshark] [@Sifr] [@AThousandCurses]
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The light and elegant flourish from the stage was snatched by a dark red fire.

He called himself Valen Leuvalt. She wondered where in her mind that name felt familiar. 

Regardless, as he approached the stage, she instinctively drew defensive. Her shadow morphed, dark mist rising up, taking the form of a ghoulish, vaguely shaped demon. It simply stared, watching along with Ciara as a striking golden throne was summoned. 

She made a mental note. [i]Another noble, same attitude as Gulliver. Has a manifesting Ethos. Perhaps a net zero creation ethos.[/i]

They had one extra soul on this stage that stole their seat instead of earning it. It made Ciara quietly seethe inside. Her red eyes glanced at the knight and the analyst. The knight was still out of breath and wanted to collapse right there, and the boy who had shot daggers at her for taking his seat still brandished his bandage.

Her eyes then glanced to the sharpshooter, who had struggled to fend off the last wave of Mannekin. 

She sighed. The shadowy demon stared daggers at Valen before focusing its gaze on the swarming crowd. She couldn't afford a fight. [i]They[/i] couldn't afford a fight. Not now. Now, all they needed... all they could [i]afford[/i], was presentation.

Even with her shadow glaring at the crowds, no one seemed to challenge Otis' authority. Except Valen, of course. This was good. Better than what she had hoped. They could do a bit of crowd control until the appointed ti-

Wait.

She counted the number of students. She was the one who threw the chairs away, her mind recounted how many the shadows had tossed in. To her dismay, even by a rough estimate, there were not enough chairs to go around. She was certain of this.

How would they solve this conundrum?

Her thoughts got sidetracked as she noticed movement in her peripherals. The analyst with glasses had walked around her and discreetly 'held' onto Davil, who was standing on her other side.

Almost as quickly, a shadowy hand from her manifested apparition held onto the boy with glasses. Its grip was gentle yet firm, without the intention to hurt, but to drive a point home.

[b]"Let go of my pet."[/b] She said in a low voice, her eyes two simmering red orbs.

Her shadows had enough force to knock over a horse-drawn carriage. It was more than enough strength to pull the boy's hand away, which she proceeded to do. Gentle enough to not harm but strong enough not to leave room for debate.

She sighed. Davil had been through enough today. He appeared distressed by the swarms of students. Looking at the faces of the students, kids just like her, she had an idea where his anxiety came from. 

By all intents and purposes, every student in front of them deserved to be there. However, without enough seats, not all of them would be able to call themselves a student of Wingram by the end of the day. Ciara's head tilted in thought, a bit pained with the dilemma in front of her. What constituted as a 'good' student? Who would stay? Did she have the right to choose?

Then, a wicked thought crossed her mind. A smile that wasn't her own curled her lips. The shadow behind her seemed to chuckle silently.

[i]"Good idea! It's a good idea!"[/i] The Voices cackled. She had to admit, she was in agreeance with them. It was only to her ultimate destruction, but no other plan would serve her so delectably.

She was so [i]Hungry[/i], after all. 

It would help to narrow down their options, at least.

Her red eyes gleamed as she spoke. [b]"Those with a virtuous heart, step forward."[/b]