[center][img]https://i.imgur.com/966gkGg.png[/img][/center][hr]“Jesus FUCK.”

[color=7976ac]“Can you keep it down? This is a library.”[/color]

Rachel didn’t even look up from her tome as the woman who gave birth to her came into their home’s private study. The shock faded from the older woman’s face before being replaced with anger, then apathy. Angela Roth demanded: “What are [i]you[/i] doing back here?”

Rachel mused, [color=7976ac]“We haven’t said more than a sentence to each other in over four years. I don’t have a problem keeping it that way.”[/color] Out of the corner of her eye she looked over her mother’s slovenly appearance: long unkempt hair, a once beautiful face locked in permanent scowl, skin paler even than Rachel’s, a T-shirt in need of cleaning and sweat pants even in the middle of the day. To think this pitiful shell had once found Trigon’s embrace…

“Shouldn’t you be out dooming us all? You know that doing what he wants is just going to leave you dead.”

[color=7976ac]“I know, and I don’t care. You’re the one who abandoned me in spirit: why should you care who picked me up? Or are you just mad that I haven’t ended your pitiful life yet?”[/color] Angela’s scowl was etched more deeply onto her face. [color=7976ac]“Blessed with a greater purpose and you just spat on it.”[/color]

“Greater purpose? Greater purpose?! He’s a termite. An oversized bug acting out. There’s no depth, no secret, no greater meaning.” The room darkened. Rachel’s cloak drew across her body. “He just does whatever he wants because he has the power to do it. You’re just another fucking pawn in his game.” Rachel’s form seemed to swell, the shadows consuming all. Tendrils drew up from beneath her cloak as she turned on Angela, who backed away. Her venom still spewed out. “You think you matter to him? You’re a speck of dust. He’ll forget you long before he leaves this universe a graveyard.” Rachel loomed over Angela. Her eyes glowed red, and two more appeared, then another two. Angela’s scowl broke, fear evident in the trembling of her legs. She backed against the next bookshelf as Rachel drew ever closer. “I’d have killed you if I could. I should’ve, but I didn’t have a choice.” Rachel reached her arm out, and Angela flinched, dropping to the ground. She grabbed a book that had been a little outside of her reach and floated back, Angela collapsing to the ground as the room returned to normal light. Her breath came too fast for her to get any air, tears rimming her eyes. Some trauma resurfacing, Rachel assumed, but she didn’t care.

She flipped through the pages. [color=7976ac]“Did you think I was going to kill you? No. I’m going to let you live to see dear father again. I’ll just have to imagine your horrific death until then. Maybe I’ll have him tell me what he plans on doing to you so I won’t have to imagine it.”[/color] While Angela started to gather herself, a handful of books flashed dark, Rachel pulling them close and stacking them up. Some magic tomes, some normal literature, all of interest to her and her mission.

Starting for the same window she entered in, her mother spoke from her spot on the floor, her voice still weak. “I didn’t have a choice. You still do.”

Rachel scoffed. [color=7976ac]“The illusion of meaningful choice runs deep, doesn’t it?”[/color][hr]Approaching the hotel, ducking from building to building, phasing through structures, and floating over vacant streets to avoid any annoyances, as she approached she realized that Garfield’s emotional presence was gone. On one hand that meant her trip had been partly wasted, unless she stumbled across another familiar candidate later. On the other hand: good riddance.

Floating into her window, she plopped her books down before using her magic to scoop up the remote, uninterested in whatever news program Garfield had rudely left on before ghosting her. Or at least, that’s what she thought as she moved to the power button, stopping to watch the coverage of a live superhero situation elsewhere in town, the streets soaked from a collapsed water tower. A familiar green animal shifter was in the think of it, one of three unidentified agents of the situation’s chaos. Finger hitting the red power button, even when the TV was off, she couldn’t stop staring into the black reflection of the room on screen. She looked to the pile of books, then back to the screen, unable to run from the high probability that Garfield hadn’t run away from her at all, but run into that situation as soon as he noticed it. Nails digging into her palm, that thought irritated her to no end. Throwing her hood back over her head, she floated right out the window from which she came and streaked through the sky into the day.