[h1][u]Ciara Ventura[/u][/h1]
[i][color=gray]Wingram Academy, Auditorium[/color][/i]
[@Nanaya] [@ERode] [@Psyker Landshark] [@Sifr] [@AThousandCurses]
[hr]

A willful thought came through the static. [i]"That wretch bore a singular good point. What are you?"[/i]

A Voice cackled. [i]"It suspects. All the better."[/i]

Ciara stared at the knight, glowing in her vision as they stood side by side on the stage.

Another Voice. [i]"Imagine it's look when we finally taste it."[/i]

[i]"It's a good person."[/i] Ciara thought.

Hard and sharp like a whip. [i]"It'll kill you."[/i]

[i]"It wouldn't."[/i] Ciara thought, her words a whisper.

[i]"It would. I can prove it. You have seen how virtuously it speaks, yes? Gives all hints of Astrism. Further suggested by the other 'it.'"[/i]

[i]"Valen?"[/i]

[i]"Yes. With this sword it wields, how it admires the Nerite Heroes, in all likelihood, it knows how to purify. This would lead to your ultimate... demise."[/i]

Ciara's eyes widened slightly as the Voice exuded a haughty smugness. Purifying magic? No, no, the Voics had to be wrong. It was a rare skill, no kid her age could have enough mastery over it to be a threat to [i]her[/i], surely.

[i]"It wouldn't. Couldn't."[/i] Her weak thought.

[i]"It can and it would."[/i] Came the cold response.

Ciara paused, a slight tremble seen within her shadow. The knight seemed nice enough. Surely there was no motive like that, right?

Ah, who was she kidding. People like the knight had plagued Ciara all her life. She had made the mistake of not suspecting before. It had cost her a few ripe scars.

[i]"Then, what do we do?"[/i]

[i]"Catch it by surprise, and [b]Eat[/b] it before it can kill you."[/i]

Ciara seemed to stand, paralyzed, before closing her eyes. She tried to swallow her fear.

Were the Voices right? They normally were. 

Enough time had passed since she had feasted on hollow Mannekin. The excitement of consuming essence had since died down, allowing her to take back some control of her eyes. When she reopened them, whether to seem less threatening or for another reason, they had returned back to their normal amber.

[i]"You may explain later in private, once this pageantry is done with. But I am inclined to give you a chance. For now."[/i] The thought from the knight continued.

There was a long pause before Ciara spoke through the mental web.

[i]"I find no need to explain myself, especially when we are students alike, without authority over another,"[/i] Ciara thought, shaking the mental web with her willfulness. [i]"But... [/i]if[i] you find me... I will be... [/i]happy[i]... to oblige."[/i]

That was when a strange beast descended from the ceiling. Ciara blinked, looking up in confusion as it drifted down, and transformed. Her jaw dropped. It was the teacher. [i]The[/i] teacher. The one who had spoken unseen since all this began. Finally. Here in the flesh.

Ciara didn't know whether to be elated or wring her dry for letting things go on as they did.

[i][b]"We stand mere seconds away from the appointed start time. Be seated. For those that are not seated in the next forty five seconds, we will happily accept your participation next year."[/b][/i]

Ciara's eyes snapped to the clock. That wasn't much time at all.

[i]Snap.[/i]

Just like that, the mental web connecting the fledgling heroes was cut off. Ciara's gaze turned to Otis, watching him finally make his move. Names were called, and the repurposed Mannekin hurriedly moved to and fro with seats, like little fairies granting wishes. As Otis sat in front of the stage, a shadowy throne spiraled up from the ground on one of his free sides, tendrils extending from Ciara's shadow. 

She sat down beside him. 

Yes, a chair had her name written on it. She was sure of it. But any number of things could go wrong. Hell, a student could try snatching her chair as a Mannekin wheeled forth to deliver it. Otis could say to hell with the 'Umbralist' and skip over her entirely. It had happened before.

She trusted easily. But dependence? That was another thing entirely. 

Before she could think about it too much, a Mannekin moved in front of her, delivering a chair she had previously torn up. Allowing herself a small smile, she accepted it, the shadowy throne melting away as she replaced it with a tried and true auditorium chair. She sat again and leaned back, looking up at the stage with slight satisfaction.

Gulliver was presented before who she presumed to be their teacher, and Otis asked a few poignant questions.

She watched curiously before adding one more question. [b]"He mentioned something about a 'divine culling.' Know anything about that?"[/b]