The chaos raging in the cafeteria must have acted as some kind of siren song, as soon the east wind was blowing and more trouble was barrelling down on the Academy. Heavy, thumping beats rock the earth in a steady rhythm and as the sounds grow louder the trees begin to shake and windows rattle. And then a monster burst into the clearing: charging forward, tail swinging, claws ripping at the earth. On its back sat a figure that seemed small in comparison, cloak whipping in the wind behind them.
“Hægur!” The voice cried and the rhythm faltered, slowing, the monster raising its head. “Hætta.” The voice chimed again and the beast responded accordingly, slowing even further as the power in its stride began to fade and then finally it stopped. Despite the height the figure slid down the side of the beast gracefully, landing on two feet and resting her hand on the creature’s side, giving him a small stroke. Undoing the clasp at her neck she removed the cloak in one smooth motion, snapping it into the air where it seemed to disappear and replaced by a
jacket which she shrugged on. Kat looked up at the building before her, a smirk playing on her lips. “Well well, do you hear that?” She asked the creature, who turned his head around to see her. “Oh fine, here you are you useless thing.” Unclipping the dead bird that hung from her waist she threw it into the air where the beast snatched it and happily ate away. She, on the other hand, walked away into the building, faintly wondering whether the creature would do much damage if left alone.
Walking inside she noted the change – it was hardly a surprise considering what the building was put through – and simply followed the sound of the fight. She was lead to the cafeteria and a wide array of students. Some peaked interest of course, but the fight captured her attention. She didn’t fail to notice the familiar face, or at least she presumed it was John under the blood, who clearly hadn’t changed. She could let the fight continue, but she supposed if she was planning on staying at least one good act should be committed. Turning her eyes upwards she spied the pipes disappearing into the ceiling. Following one down to a water fountain she smiled and traced it back to where it was closest to the fight. Then it was simple: she fired a green bolt of energy up into the ceiling and suddenly dust and water was raining down, covering everyone in the immediate area. Not her though, any water that dared to even get close hit an apparent wall before reaching her.
She simply looked at all the – now soaking wet – people in front of her expectantly, almost as if waiting for them to realise how ridiculous they all were acting. Water wasn't going to stop them fighting but it was usually enough to shock them out of it. That or she had now given them all a common enemy.
