[@Estylwen][@Psyker Landshark]

The voice that greeted her was not one she wished to hear. Unlike last time, however, she found herself able to at least communicate her thoughts mentally.

[i][color=000000]Fräulein Nachtnebel.[/color][/i]

[i][color=007236]You.[/color][/i]

[i][color=000000]But of course. Is it not fitting to accompany and serve you? My will is your own, for as long as you can maintain such a thing.[/color][/i]

[i][color=007236]You have no such power. We both know what you are, little wisp, and you are not what you make yourself out to be. [/color][/i]There's a mocking laugh, and for a moment, Hildegunde is full of doubt. The woman had warned about a wildcard, but this was...this was a bit much. She clenches her jaw, eyebrows furrowing. No, no. This was her own mind playing tricks on her. Dozens of other students had these things. It must be her brain's backwards-ass way of helping her in some roundabout way. The way fear drives prey away from danger.

[i][color=007236]Laugh then, bitch. 'Cause until I fall, you're mine.[/color][/i] More laughter, and another wave of doubt. She silently decides she'll keep quiet about whatever it is she's got going on, just in case this is something worryingly abnormal.

[i][color=007236]And for the record, my first command is for you to shut your fuckin' mouth and do as I say, unless I explicitly ask for your input.[/color][/i]

The laughter dies instantaneously. Eeriely so. She expected more resistance.

Hildegunde turns her attention back to reality, frowning as Raja goes on. She cares not for binaries or loyalties, and as someone who lived on the outskirts of Seer's Loft relatively sheltered from society at large for the majority of her life, she is at a loss. Nonetheless, she copies the salute, before turning away. Her eyes flick towards the two girls she had accompanied herself with moments ago, but she immediately regrets doing so. Looking away from them now, she turns her attention to her Adapa.

[color=007236]You. Speak.[/color]

[color=000000]I'd like a name other than 'you', Fräulein Nachtnabel.[/color]

Hildegunde rolls her eyes. 

[color=007236][i]What would you like to be called, then?[/i][/color]

She can feel it curl its fiery lips in her mind's eye. [i][color=000000]Freischütz.[/color][/i]

Freischütz. Marksman. Her prime essence. The figure from her fairytales. The one whom, in some accounts, would become a devil himself, after piercing the hearts of his beloveds. One and the same. She almost rolls her eyes a second time.

[i][color=007236]Okay, Herr Freischütz. Help me with whatever nonsense this faction stuff is.[/color]

[color=000000]I know you care not for false binaries, liebe Frau. So I ask instead, not what you believe, but how you'd like to be believed. What reputation do you wish to have? And more importantly, which can you live up to? As a hunter, I think there's one clear choice. [/color]

[color=007236]Which is?[/color]

[color=000000]That which your Ethos is better suited to.[/color][/i]

Sword of Wund. Her heart sways slightly towards Shield of Nero now, if only out of spite. But there is still doubt. Much of her values went one way or another; almost all of which were situational. She might very well turn back and discuss with the others. On the other hand...spending more time with them means the risk of growing attached. Hildegunde can feel Freischütz smile at that thought. 

[i][color=007236]You are dismissed, Herr Freischütz.[/color][/i] She reluctantly approaches Ciara and Iraleth, pointing at a carriage. 

[color=007236]"You must both be tired. Wanna find the dorms together?"[/color]