More combat, more sparring. It was an impressive display, of that Casper could not object. An android fighting an enhanced human. One would be forgiven for considering the exchange somewhat entertaining, but for Hex, the situation strung along a slightly different path. With his attention turning towards the active duo, eyes landed on Rain, his soul infinitely bright in comparison to the android’s, where it was replaced by endless emptiness. ”Sure..,” came a response, the Wraithborn’s pointed ears noting what his friend had asked. Friend, a rather strong word, wasn’t it? Had they reached this level, yet? Thinking back to a mere few moments earlier, the warmth of an embrace, digits interlocking, a head on his shoulders, it all painted a clear picture. If not friendship, what could possibly be at play?
Moving closer to the battle at hand, spectral eyes narrowed. To a being who saw people through the form of their souls, what did Alisa amount to? An object? That was quite narrow-minded, a view Casper would get chastised for. He understood enough to draw that conclusion. However, difficulty remained. Hex was required to push past these feelings if he was to adequately work with his teammates, none of which he viewed with the same level of insecurity as Alisa. He could not place the girl. Brightheart, the Tamaran, her presence was cause for concern due to her biological nature, due to the sunlight she was absorbing. However, that was something Casper could get past with his magic. Alisa was beyond him, her very being so utterly divorced from where he stood that merely looking upon her often caused the Wraithborn momentary confusion. He had to remind himself that she was, in fact, a person. That she wasn’t a doll, or merely a mindless machine. Throughout her battle with Viktor, she had displayed emotion, she had even tricked him, an act raising Casper’s brow.
Perhaps the warrior humanized her far too much in assuming a need for breath. She was a robot, after all, a thing. Ironic then, how Casper and Alisa shared many aspects in that regard. Evidence for her humanity was presented quite frequently, but despite this, Hex was combatting less tolerable views. Viktor lost because he presented concern for a thing, rather than a who, or was that the wrong way of looking at this? The very same technique would have had the very same outcome on Hex himself, yet he was the one silently judging.
Lowering his gaze to grass swaying in the wind, Casper slipped those clawed hands into his pockets. How many of these individuals were prepared for actual battle? For actual warfare? Sparring was different from when the intent to kill replaced friendly movements. What would happen when blood was spilled, and then kept flowing? How would some of these recruits react when stepping into a room filled with death? It was naive to believe that they’d always be on time, that every hostage was going to be saved without failure. It was foolish to think that difficult decisions weren’t going to force uncomfortable thoughts, or even haunting regret. Talon knew this, that much was certain. However, what of the far more bright and less experienced individuals on their team? Kila would push through a hallway of casualties, but would Ja do the same?
Though attempting to maintain focus on the task at hand, Casper tended towards drifting away. He was an empathetic creature without pause. Hex rarely felt anger, and he was seldom ever swept from his feet. It was because of this empathy that worry came to blanket him. He did not wish for these bright, excited smiles to be corrupted by the more realistic side of superherodom. With the boy’s tail drooping behind him, Casper clenched his sharp teeth. These warnings were likely going to come. Black Canary had more experience than any of these young souls, and eventually, once they were ready, she was going to tell them that this job wasn’t glamorous.
Eyes rose, and attention fell back on Viktor and Alisa. Casper sensed blood. He had sensed it since Talon’s battle with Daphne. Necrotic Empathy, his mother called it, the ability to sense another’s wounds, a creature’s injuries. The closer to death they were, the more blatant it became, until death itself was presented loudly, and clearly. At least no one had held back. They were all serious about this, even Zach, despite showing less of it than he could have.
”Well done..,” a ghostly voice congratulated.
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