[h1][u]Ciara Ventura[/u][/h1] [i][color=gray]Wingram Academy, Girls' Dorm[/color][/i] [@Nanaya] [@Psyker Landshark] [@Sifr] [hr] [color=gray][center][b]~*~[/b] Running in tattered socks, the cold winter ground biting her feet. Disturbing howls of deranged caretakers, neighbors, calling out from behind her. [b]~*~[/b] [/center][/color] [i][b]"Hey, you okay?"[/b][/i] Ciara took another step into the room, careful to keep her face neutral. She rubbed at her eyes one last time, mumbling in response to Hildegunde. [b]"It's nothing I can't handle..."[/b] Iraleth looked up from her bed. [b]"I have to know[i], Ciara. Just say you aren't an Umbralist in truth, and we can call this off." [/i][/b] [color=gray][center][b]~*~[/b] Sock-covered toes digging into the snow-covered ground, tiny hands balled into fists, trembling. The dull thuds of rocks rolling at her feet. Another soared and hit its mark, leaving a gash on her forehead, causing her to cry out in pain. [b]~*~[/b] [/center][/color] If Iraleth had physically slapped her, Ciara's face wouldn't have been much different. Distressed, hard eyes and hot cheeks hinting at boiling blood. It was always her fate, wasn't it? She couldn't escape her own shadow. As Iraleth shared all the reasons why Umbralists deserved a quick and merciful death, she found her own temper rising. Again. The rage she had held back for years was primed and ready to go. The one fatal accusation that caretakers, potential friends, her [i]parents[/i], always made. The accusation that had destroyed her life several times over. She couldn't bear the word 'Umbralist'; it made her boil so much from within. Could she make Iraleth understand? They both seemed to share similar tragic tales. Perhaps... perhaps the light would understand why the Hunger craved for it, why the Hunger did what it did. But, just as she was about to speak and say something she would regret, a presence engulfed her. [i]"They'll kill you if you tell them the truth, you know."[/i] [color=gray][center][b]~*~[/b] Hunger finally dulled, staring down at the ashen remains of the plant life that once flourished. Her red Hunger eyes turned to the approaching torchlight. [i]"They've seen. It's too late. Run. [/i]They'll kill you[i] if they catch you."[/i] Her shoes, wet from stepping into the marsh, were removed. [i]"What are you doing? Run!"[/i] Her thought was confident. [i]"They won't hurt me."[/i] A near-fatal mistake. This would be the last she didn't listen to the Voices. [b]~*~[/b] [/center][/color] The low-yet-high raspy voice. Terrifying in its limitless presence. The anger that had shown on her face was instantly snuffed out, replaced with fear. In an instant, she was back on the battlefield, running for her life through the corridors of the school's main building. Claws, gripping her tight, from a place in which she had no defense. Her lips purposefully pursed, knowing better than to dare speak at a time like this. [i]"We've always known this, haven't we? Those like [b]us[/b] can [/i]never[i] fraternize with those like [b]them[/b]."[/i] The fear was soon replaced by comfort. Did she dare take comfort in this Voice? It was by far the most lethal, most powerful of all the Voices in her mind. So far, it had led her true, but how long would that last? How long until it asked something of her that she couldn't give, that she wouldn't cross the line for? Even if she wanted to debate it, the tension in her muscles was already releasing, her heart rate slowing down. Tried and true habits weren't something she could shake, and she was used to taking comfort in and listening to her Voices. [i]"Time will progress apace... huh?"[/i] She thought softly. The Voice had been right then, and she was certain it was right now. The comfortable sedation of 'calm,' like the numbing sensation of an anesthetic, was already clouding her mind. Slowly but surely, she lost the will to speak entirely. It took all her concentration to place her pillow and blanket on her bed, and stumble into her messy haven for rest. Her eyes glanced at Iraleth as she lay there, too exhausted, too 'calm' to move. She blinked once, before darkness drew its curtain over the light's glowing face. [i]"Then... a fight it is..."[/i]