Lasrever

The Adamant World

Nila Lionridge

"Certainly." Nila looked back to the shorter woman, a slight smile crossing her features for a split second before she nodded and forced her expression back to the usual seriousness. "You're another new recruit, aren't you? Else you should really work on that sense of direction." There was a low chuckle with that, though her eyes still avoided the woman. Gentle ribbing, for the most part, though her expression made it difficult to tell, especially since there was an element of actual sincerity to the words. Not knowing where you were headed caused far more trouble than it was worth.

Her offer had been accepted, thankfully, and so she turned to head back down towards the hall. Though it was of course the correct course of action, it had thrown her schedule off ever-so-slightly, and so she kept a brisk pace on her way down the corridors, sparing an occasional glance over her shoulder to ensure she hadn't lost the smaller woman. Not that she imagined there'd be that much trouble - she'd seemed rather excited about this whole thing. Certainly far more than Nila herself, who'd managed to work herself all the way up to slight curiosity as opposed to outright disdain.

It was a good enough leap, considering the circumstances. Adequate enough that her presence hopefully wouldn't be too much of a mystery, in any case.

As she finally turned the corner to head out into the hall, she seemed more irritated than impressed by the grandeur. "Not too far out of our way at least." She looked satisfied with herself, turning back to her companion with a nod of acknowledgement. After a couple of seconds' thought, though, her eyes widened slightly - she'd been so caught up in the distraction of her own thoughts that she'd forgotten basic decorum. After lowering her head slightly more into a small bow, she looked at her with more than a little embarrassment. "Nila Lionridge, of Carneylem. I apologise for failing to introduce myself sooner; there's a lot to consider at the moment, but it's no reason to lose my manners."

@HecateProxy

The Adamant World

Nila Lionridge

The guild seemed to be a large place; even extravagant, to Nila's mind. Certainly, such a thing could and should have been expected from the reputations such places garnered, especially those looking to attract new mages and keep them in residence. Yes, it was ornate and extravagant, especially compared to the bare-bones guard building she'd grown accustomed to. The same guards that were so constantly tossed aside and beaten down by the more enthusiastic mages, who there'd no doubt be a few of in these halls. And for what? Coloured panes and opulent halls, apparently.

Fair to say her distaste for this place had been rather immediate.

But then, she had a job to do, and so maybe that was for the best. Hardly a good motivator if she'd gotten here and suddenly decided to love the place. Though at least she'd slept well enough, and she'd take her blessings where they came in that regard.

That being said, she'd woken rather early; a habit of hers. She had exercises to do each morning, more for the mental discipline than any true physical exertion, though keeping her strength up was certainly a welcome benefit. Her schedule was rigid and well-defined. First came exercise, then brief time to meditate on the day to come, and then finally she'd groom herself, dress as well as was needed, and be ready to face whatever the day might bring. She'd left herself more than enough time to arrive, of course.

She didn't bother with anything extravagant, but was sure to dress smartly. You were to dress well enough that it implied respect, but not so well that you were trying to rise above your station; a simple concept. After a moment's thought, she left her spear behind. The implied lack of trust would be unhelpful to say the least, and she was perfectly capable of fighting unarmed if the necessity arose. With that decision made, she left her room quickly and quietly, keeping up a steady pace as she made her way through the corridor.

Better to be early than late, after all, if only because of the disrespect that tardiness implied. A bad start, especially if it were to throw off someone's rhythm for the day - disorganisation was the enemy of both good sense and appropriate planning. Once things had been set in stone, Nila was of the mind that the plans should be followed, if only to prevent any tragic miscommunication.

The well-built woman, therefore, walked rather inelegantly and with little pomp or ceremony. Her head, however, was held high, looking out at mages old and new with a proud gaze that seemed to seek out and challenge anyone who cared to meet it. It could even be seen as arrogance, though certainly a somewhat reserved sort. The route to the hall wasn't a particularly difficult one to memorise, thankfully. She'd paid stringent attention to it, better to gauge how much time she'd need to make her way there.

Perhaps she could simply have kept track of how long the walk itself took, but tour-givers tended to meander around far too much to be helpful. Better simply to get where you were going. By her estimate, she'd make it with a few minutes to spare. Though, that being said, she couldn't help noticing a voice from around the corner; frustrated, by the sounds of it.

Nila never was the sort to ignore someone in need, at least with matters so innocent as this, so she sighed and headed towards the voice. One of the other new arrivals, by the looks of it; at least she'd have an early opportunity to gauge the moral character of these people. She looked over the woman for a brief second - small, wasn't she - before turning her gaze back to the walls and speaking a little abruptly.

"I know the path to the hall from here," she paused, brow furrowing, "I, ah, assume that's where you're looking to go."

_@HecateProxy

The Adamant World

@Jinxer Alright, added some specifics on that so it should hopefully be fine now :D

The Adamant World

Nila Lionridge

Age: 23
Sex : Female

Appearance: Nila tends to dress simply, though her clothes are invariably well-made and sturdy, despite holding no particular adornments; in her mind, such things would be rising above her station. Training as most of her family members do has lent her a certain amount of muscle, her build fairly stocky and solid; a fact helped by never having to struggle for food, though she's far from fat. She's not the tallest, standing at five feet and five inches, but nonetheless is well-built and bulky enough not to be completely looked over.

She hails from Carneylem, and her appearance shows it well enough; her accent is also stronger than most, helped by the fact that she makes no attempt to hide it, proud of her heritage as she is. She's got a fairly large and ragged scar running from her right shoulder to her chest, and as such most of her clothing tends to cover it. As much as she denies it, it seems to be a major source of insecurity for the woman, though mentioning it if you're ever in a position to notice won't get you anywhere good.

Flare: Using Adamant, Nila can create and direct small volumes of pale-blue gas. These clouds, when breathed in, quickly induce a deep sleep which lasts for roughly five minutes before the subject wakes up, with full recollection of the events before they passed out. The gas doesn't have any harmful after-effects in the long term, though victims might feel a little groggy or disoriented shortly after waking, especially if they've been moved.

Small amounts of the gas can be breathed in without passing out, although it causes moderate grogginess and fatigue, slowing down reactions and generally exhausting the affected. The effects will fade over a similar time period. Furthermore, she can't actually control where the gas goes beyond where it's initially summoned and directed, so friendly fire is always a risk when she's in the field.

The Adamant ratio depends on the volume of gas in the cloud, regardless of its shape; every cubic metre of volume translates to 2/10 of her adamant ratio - for example, two cubic metres would be 4/10 on her primary flare.

History: Nila isn't too shy about her reasons for choosing to join this line of work. To put it simply, her family have - for as long as she can remember - had a history of working as guardsmen wherever they choose to settle. Not the most well-paying or respected profession, perhaps, since they're almost always reduced to grunt work, but what it is is honest hard work. While she perhaps doesn't see eye to eye with them in all things, her lofty ambitions often clashing with their humble wants throughout her upbringing, that doesn't change the fact that she holds them in high regard.

But, of course, it's a risky line of work, and Nila's seen a few too many friends and family hurt by Powder Mages who leaned more towards the less-morally-sound line of things. And so, after much deliberation, she made her way to the guild - not for money, since her family's income is respectable if not imposing, nor for fame, since it couldn't interest her much less. No, Nila's goal is a simple one, either noble, naive, or disgustingly self-righteous depending on how you look at it. To fix these guilds from the inside, and ensure no harm comes to the everyday folk while they work.

Whether she has any chance of success is yet to be seen.

Personality: Above all else, Nila is a woman who respects the law. She sticks stringently to rules, and doesn't believe in granting fair exception based on regret or unfortunate circumstance. One law for all, she claims, for any exception sets a dangerous precedent and leaves a system ripe for abuse by the ill-minded. Her view of the world and those in power tends to be rather one-dimensional, since she's dedicated little thought to any rumors that claim the benevolence of the lawmakers may not be quite so altruistic.

Despite knowing the potential for it in the guilds, Nila is determined to do no real harm, and allow no-one innocent to die; in her mind, it's simply not their place to dole out vigilante justice. As such, she'll always make an effort to leave foes alive and keep her allies from truly bloodying their hands, especially in regards to those she sees as good; an impression which she bases more than she realises on their wealth and profession. In truth, she's been sheltered despite seeing her fair share of violence, never confronted with the harsh realities of poverty or the hardship of not having fresh food each day.

It's perhaps because of this ignorance that her faith in the system is so unerring and absolute.

The Adamant World

Well, here's a CS I suppose!

Nila

Nila Lionridge

Age: 23
Sex : Female

Appearance: Nila tends to dress simply, though her clothes are invariably well-made and sturdy, despite holding no particular adornments; in her mind, such things would be rising above her station. Training as most of her family members do has lent her a certain amount of muscle, her build fairly stocky and solid; a fact helped by never having to struggle for food, though she's far from fat. She's not the tallest, standing at five feet and five inches, but nonetheless is well-built enough not to be completely looked over.

She hails from Carneylem, and her appearance shows it well enough; her accent is also stronger than most, helped by the fact that she makes no attempt to hide it, proud of her heritage as she is. She's got a fairly large and ragged scar running from her right shoulder to her chest, and as such most of her clothing tends to cover it. As much as she denies it, it seems to be a major source of insecurity for the woman, though mentioning it if you're ever in a position to notice won't get you anywhere good.

Flare: Using Adamant, Nila can create and direct small volumes of pale-blue gas. These clouds, when breathed in, quickly induce a deep sleep which lasts for roughly five minutes before the subject wakes up, with full recollection of the events before they passed out. The gas doesn't have any harmful after-effects in the long term, though victims might feel a little groggy or disoriented shortly after waking, especially if they've been moved.

Small amounts of the gas can be breathed in without passing out, although it causes moderate grogginess and fatigue, slowing down reactions and generally exhausting the affected. The effects will fade over a similar time period. Furthermore, she can't actually control where the gas goes beyond where it's initially summoned and directed, so friendly fire is always a risk when she's in the field.

The Adamant ratio depends on the volume of gas in the cloud, regardless of its shape; every cubic metre of volume translates to 2/10 of her adamant ratio - for example, two cubic metres would be 4/10 on her primary flare.

History: Nila isn't too shy about her reasons for choosing to join this line of work. To put it simply, her family have - for as long as she can remember - had a history of working as guardsmen wherever they choose to settle. Not the most well-paying or respected profession, perhaps, since they're almost always reduced to grunt work, but what it is is honest hard work. While she perhaps doesn't see eye to eye with them in all things, her lofty ambitions often clashing with their humble wants throughout her upbringing, that doesn't change the fact that she holds them in high regard.

But, of course, it's a risky line of work, and Nila's seen a few too many friends and family hurt by Powder Mages who leaned more towards the less-morally-sound line of things. And so, after much deliberation, she made her way to the guild - not for money, since her family's income is respectable if not imposing, nor for fame, since it couldn't interest her much less. No, Nila's goal is a simple one, either noble, naive, or disgustingly self-righteous depending on how you look at it. To fix these guilds from the inside, and ensure no harm comes to the everyday folk while they work.

Whether she has any chance of success is yet to be seen.

Personality: Above all else, Nila is a woman who respects the law. She sticks stringently to rules, and doesn't believe in granting fair exception based on regret or unfortunate circumstance. One law for all, she claims, for any exception sets a dangerous precedent and leaves a system ripe for abuse by the ill-minded. Her view of the world and those in power tends to be rather one-dimensional, since she's dedicated little thought to any rumors that claim the benevolence of the lawmakers may not be quite so altruistic.

Despite knowing the potential for it in the guilds, Nila is determined to do no real harm, and allow no-one innocent to die; in her mind, it's simply not their place to dole out vigilante justice. As such, she'll always make an effort to leave foes alive and keep her allies from truly bloodying their hands, especially in regards to those she sees as good; an impression which she bases more than she realises on their wealth and profession. In truth, she's been sheltered despite seeing her fair share of violence, never confronted with the harsh realities of poverty or the hardship of not having fresh food each day.

It's perhaps because of this ignorance that her faith in the system is so unerring and absolute.

The Adamant World (A Guild RP)

Interested!

Lochpine Preserve

Leah

Name: Leah McDowell
Age: 32 as a human/uncursed, at least several centuries as a spirit - her memory isn't any better than most, so she gets a little hazy on the specifics.
Sex: Female
Race Glaistig: a half-woman, half-goat spirit from Scottish mythology, who generally acts as a protective spirit - albeit with occasional vampiric tendencies, filled by luring travellers through song or dance.
Biome: Lakeside
Sexuality: Bisexual
Relationship Status: Single
---

Height: 5'6"
Weight: 145 lbs
Hair: Blonde
Eyes: Hazel
Skin Tone: Unnaturally pale, with a slight grey tinge
Appearance:

Hider

At first glance, Leah appears to simply be an entirely average woman, if a rather pretty one - it's only once you get a little closer that the strangeness about her becomes apparent. Her teeth, pristine white, are just a little too sharp, her skin a little too pale to be normal, and her gait strange and awkward. Someone who didn't know her would perhaps liken it to a trot; someone who did know her would realise just how accurate that choice of words would be. For underneath the long green skirt she wears with her tunic, the girl has a pair of brown-furred goat legs that she usually prefers to keep hidden from others, even when simply wandering the preserve itself.

Skills: Enchanting song and dance, deception, cattle-tending, historical knowledge, sure-footedness
----
Likes: Cattle, forests, children, music, sunsets, rainy days
Dislikes: Modern technology, disrespect, vampire fiction, faeries of all kinds, iron and salt (they both burn her, a side-effect of the faerie magic that fuels her curse)
Brief History: Once the Lady of an ancient castle that has long since crumbled, Leah's initial life was one of high-class pampering, and it showed. She was, on reflection, rather unpleasant to deal with, and held in her heart arrogance beyond bounds; arrogance that lead her to ignore her servants' warnings and order the sacred oak outside her window chopped to the ground. Needless to say, the local faeries took offence, and enraged by the young woman's self-centred attitude, cursed her in two parts; the first, to be burdened with her goat-like lower half, and second, the unfortunate state of undeath which she found herself occupying after her untimely demise.

Several centuries later, she still can't help feeling their retribution was just a little gratuitous.

Your Story: How long had it been now? Centuries, no doubt. Leah had decided to stop keeping count a long time ago; once you started keeping track, living after death grew unbearably depressing. Besides, it wasn't as though she slept anymore, which left the days and nights blending into each other at times. The ones that could sleep and lose themselves in dreams really didn't know how good they had it. A luxury whose value she'd never fully appreciated until it was cruelly snatched away.

Damned faeries. Their curses did tend to go overboard, at least for her tastes. Frankly, the whole blood-drinking business was unpleasant enough as it was - especially grating after she started paying attention to the humans' unbearable obsession with vampires. Not that she was one of those, strictly. They had far more perks.

Enhanced strength, speed, resistance to wounds, endurance, regeneration, durability--

And what did she get? Dancing, bloodsucking, and goddamned goat legs. It was enough to make a girl feel unappreciated. Though, she supposed, at least she could still sit outside in the sun. The more unsavoury parts of her predicament had become tolerated, albeit grudgingly, by the rangers - on condition that she never bleed any creature dry. It suited her well enough, as for all the things the long-dead Lady McDowell was, remorseless killer wasn't one of them.

Though, she noted, people hadn't shown her quite the same courtesy.

That was all long ago, though; the culprits long dead or far across the sea, the intricacies of her unfortunate predicament known to her and her alone. She'd been bitter for a while, but you could only spend so many decades terrorising the barely-responsible before it started feeling petty. Even if being murdered did tend to smart a bit. It was one of those things that you tended to take rather personally, at least if you asked those few that ended up sticking around afterwards.

As for her, she'd lived an interesting life, though she couldn't be certain what exactly had driven her to cross the sea. Only that she'd been incredibly affronted by it, and trusting in her past self's good judgement, she had no doubt it had been incredibly offensive. Rather inconvenient how so many people had stopped believing in ghosts over the years. It lent itself to a certain level of disrespect that she'd never grown completely accustomed to. Using her title, she'd quickly discovered after finally trying to rejoin the human world, was met with an equal level of disdain.

So she'd decided to start going by Leah, discarding Lady McDowell to the past. It was unpleasant to think how far she'd fallen from an old life of servants and finery.

For here she was nobody at all, sitting by a mountain trail, a song just a little too sweet escaping her throat and her eyes firmly fixed upon the path ahead. There was a human on its way, his blood-scent both sweet and salt in the air, a small smile of anticipation on her face as he appeared over the ridge. There was a sort of dazed look in his eyes as she approached, expression a perfect mask of concern as she grabbed his hand.

"Are you alright?" Entering into a dance, a simple and free-flowing thing, his feet moving though he himself barely seemed aware of it. The question wasn't said for much reason, simply to gauge his reaction. And sure enough, he barely responded, too far under her spell - so she drew his wrist upwards, teeth sinking into the skin. It was a difficult thing, but necessary, her grip released quickly as she looked to him with concern. Pale now, of course. But she hadn't taken enough for serious harm. She'd learned how to judge a person's limit long ago, after a few unfortunate mistakes in her younger years.

All in all, killing travellers was incredibly inconvenient; people tended to kick up a fuss, and that was before you even got into the moral issues surrounding the whole thing. Plus, frankly, she'd had a difficult enough time making her case as a resident on the reserve to begin with. Breaking the only real condition she'd been set would be horrendously unappreciative of her.

She could hardly blame them for being a little on edge around the bloodsucker, anyway. As it was, she was almost completely certain that her unfortunate victim would be perfectly fine. She tended to err on the side of caution, as much as you ever could with these things.

She couldn't stick around to make sure, however. Inconvenient, but the spell of her performances tended to wear off quickly, and it would hardly be effective once he realised something was wrong. Thankfully, she was well-equipped to make her way down the mountainside, picking her way from ledge to ledge with a faintly affronted expression. As useful as they were in this specific hunting ground...

Gods, but she couldn't stand the bloody hooves.

Lochpine Preserve

I'm pretty sure Snag said I was putting a sheet together, so here we go! Hopefully that should be alright.

Leah

Name: Leah McDowell
Age: 32 as a human/uncursed, at least several centuries as a spirit - her memory isn't any better than most, so she gets a little hazy on the specifics.
Sex: Female
Race Glaistig: a half-woman, half-goat spirit from Scottish mythology, who generally acts as a protective spirit - albeit with occasional vampiric tendencies, filled by luring travellers through song or dance.
Biome: Lakeside
Sexuality: Bisexual
Relationship Status: Single
---

Height: 5'6"
Weight: 145 lbs
Hair: Blonde
Eyes: Hazel
Skin Tone: Unnaturally pale, with a slight grey tinge
Appearance:

Hider

At first glance, Leah appears to simply be an entirely average woman, if a rather pretty one - it's only once you get a little closer that the strangeness about her becomes apparent. Her teeth, pristine white, are just a little too sharp, her skin a little too pale to be normal, and her gait strange and awkward. Someone who didn't know her would perhaps liken it to a trot; someone who did know her would realise just how accurate that choice of words would be. For underneath the long green skirt she wears with her tunic, the girl has a pair of brown-furred goat legs that she usually prefers to keep hidden from others, even when simply wandering the preserve itself.

Skills: Enchanting song and dance, deception, cattle-tending, historical knowledge, sure-footedness
----
Likes: Cattle, forests, children, music, sunsets, rainy days
Dislikes: Modern technology, disrespect, vampire fiction, faeries of all kinds, iron and salt (they both burn her, a side-effect of the faerie magic that fuels her curse)
Brief History: Once the Lady of an ancient castle that has long since crumbled, Leah's initial life was one of high-class pampering, and it showed. She was, on reflection, rather unpleasant to deal with, and held in her heart arrogance beyond bounds; arrogance that lead her to ignore her servants' warnings and order the sacred oak outside her window chopped to the ground. Needless to say, the local faeries took offence, and enraged by the young woman's self-centred attitude, cursed her in two parts; the first, to be burdened with her goat-like lower half, and second, the unfortunate state of undeath which she found herself occupying after her untimely demise.

Several centuries later, she still can't help feeling the curse was just a little gratuitous.

Your Story: How long had it been now? Centuries, no doubt. Leah had decided to stop keeping count a long time ago; once you started keeping track, living after death grew unbearably depressing. Besides, it wasn't as though she slept anymore, which left the days and nights blending into each other at times. The ones that could sleep and lose themselves in dreams really didn't know how good they had it. A luxury whose value she'd never fully appreciated until it was cruelly snatched away.

Damned faeries. Their curses did tend to go overboard, at least for her tastes. Frankly, the whole blood-drinking business was unpleasant enough as it was - especially grating after she started paying attention to the humans' unbearable obsession with vampires. Not that she was one of those, strictly. They had far more perks.

Enhanced strength, speed, resistance to wounds, endurance, regeneration, durability--

And what did she get? Dancing, bloodsucking, and goddamned goat legs. It was enough to make a girl feel unappreciated. Though, she supposed, at least she could still sit outside in the sun. The more unsavoury parts of her predicament had become tolerated, albeit grudgingly, by the rangers - on condition that she never bleed any creature dry. It suited her well enough, as for all the things the long-dead Lady McDowell was, remorseless killer wasn't one of them.

Though, she noted, people hadn't shown her quite the same courtesy.

That was all long ago, though; the culprits long dead or far across the sea, the intricacies of her unfortunate predicament known to her and her alone. She'd been bitter for a while, but you could only spend so many decades terrorising the barely-responsible before it started feeling petty. Even if being murdered did tend to smart a bit. It was one of those things that you tended to take rather personally, at least if you asked those few that ended up sticking around afterwards.

As for her, she'd lived an interesting life, though she couldn't be certain what exactly had driven her to cross the sea. Only that she'd been incredibly affronted by it, and trusting in her past self's good judgement, she had no doubt it had been incredibly offensive. Rather inconvenient how so many people had stopped believing in ghosts over the years. It lent itself to a certain level of disrespect that she'd never grown completely accustomed to. Using her title, she'd quickly discovered after finally trying to rejoin the human world, was met with an equal level of disdain.

So she'd decided to start going by Leah, discarding Lady McDowell to the past. It was unpleasant to think how far she'd fallen from an old life of servants and finery.

For here she was nobody at all, sitting by a mountain trail, a song just a little too sweet escaping her throat and her eyes firmly fixed upon the path ahead. There was a human on its way, his blood-scent both sweet and salt in the air, a small smile of anticipation on her face as he appeared over the ridge. There was a sort of dazed look in his eyes as she approached, expression a perfect mask of concern as she grabbed his hand.

"Are you alright?" Entering into a dance, a simple and free-flowing thing, his feet moving though he himself barely seemed aware of it. The question wasn't said for much reason, simply to gauge his reaction. And sure enough, he barely responded, too far under her spell - so she drew his wrist upwards, teeth sinking into the skin. It was a difficult thing, but necessary, her grip released quickly as she looked to him with concern. Pale now, of course. But she hadn't taken enough for serious harm. She'd learned how to judge a person's limit long ago, after a few unfortunate mistakes in her younger years.

All in all, killing travellers was incredibly inconvenient; people tended to kick up a fuss, and that was before you even got into the moral issues surrounding the whole thing. Plus, frankly, she'd had a difficult enough time making her case as a resident on the reserve to begin with. Breaking the only real condition she'd been set would be horrendously unappreciative of her.

She could hardly blame them for being a little on edge around the bloodsucker, anyway. As it was, she was almost completely certain that her unfortunate victim would be perfectly fine. She tended to err on the side of caution, as much as you ever could with these things.

She couldn't stick around to make sure, however. Inconvenient, but the spell of her performances tended to wear off quickly, and it would hardly be effective once he realised something was wrong. Thankfully, she was well-equipped to make her way down the mountainside, picking her way from ledge to ledge with a faintly affronted expression. As useful as they were in this specific hunting ground...

Gods, but she couldn't stand the bloody hooves.

The Haunting of Crestwood Hollow - A Supernatural Thriller

Also still around, ofc

The Haunting of Crestwood Hollow - A Supernatural Thriller

RYAN MENDOZA

M A T H E R M E M O R I A L H I G H S C H O O L:

---

^{Tuesday, August 21st, 2018 - 02:52pm | The 'Loft'}

At the sound of the scream, Ryan had frozen, eyes wide as she watched Mr Lehrer run out of the room. That scream hadn’t been angry. She’d heard angry before, but that was different; more real. Terror, but even more than that…

They sounded hurt.

If Mr. Lehrer hadn’t told them to stay in their seats, the thought of doing the opposite would never have even occurred to her. But even that direction had at least gotten her thinking about a course of action, snapped her out of the rabbit-in-headlights panic that had kept her rooted in her seat.

Her hands gripped the edge of the table, looking down at it with gritted teeth as she tried to get her thoughts together, grasping at anything she could make sense of. It helped to focus on things, something mundane and simple and not at all unusual. Particleboard underneath the laminate, cheap but durable enough to last several years. Frame, what was the frame, steel - not the most durable, but steel. Probably. She was only guessing, but she was pretty sure it was right.

You just learned how to tell, she supposed. And it wasn’t exactly a masterstroke to figure that out when the desk wasn’t anything out of the ordinary. There wasn’t much interesting about it, the way the parts all fixed together. The desks were all the same here. Bought in bulk, probably, nice and cheap. Simple.

It all made sense.

It was fine.

Deep breaths, quiet, going over memories of people she’d spoken to before. Volunteering, things being put together. A doctor, a stern man, who’d called her sharp-witted and yet always seemingly regarded her with a faint air of disappointment. On his break, looking at her with a coffee in his hand - black, nothing added - with a sigh and a shake of the head.

“You’d do damn well for yourself if you took a little initiative, Mendoza.”

Advice she hadn’t known how to make sense of. Wasn’t it easier to wait? To make sure you didn’t annoy anyone? There were so many ways that taking action could go wrong when you weren’t certain it was the right one.

But they’d sounded hurt. Maybe she could help, but Mr. Lehrer probably knew how to fix it. Probably. That was the sticking point, a word she couldn’t put as much faith into as she wanted. Probably, maybe, but maybe not as well and that was enough to keep her in her seat. He’d told them to stay there, and she didn’t want to get in trouble by running outside first.

What else was there? The pass card, a better distraction. She picked it up, turning it over in her hand. Plastic. No, there was more to it, maybe, if she could make sense of how it worked--

Her head was starting to hurt, so she put it down with a wince.

Needed to get better at that. Maybe she could ask someone for advice; there’d be someone around who knew how to figure stuff out. A trick to it, probably, there was always a trick. Funny how she’d never found anything online; she supposed maybe it was one of those things you were just supposed to ‘get’. There were a lot of those, and they never got less irritating over time. She liked having a method, a set of steps, directions.

But this was wrong. After a cry filled with so much pain, fear, agony… her voice came as a murmur.

“It shouldn’t be so quiet.” She looked over to the door and spoke from what little experience she had. Hearing the wailing in person was so very different from video and impersonal research, of course. More harrowing in the way it cut through the air. But somehow, it would have been reassuring in its own way, at least when compared with the eerie silence that followed it. A frown was firmly etched across Ryan's features as she finally came to a decision after far too much deliberation. “Not after that kind of scream.”

Tentatively, she got to her feet, glancing around the room. If someone needed help, maybe she could do a little. It wasn’t as if she was trying to break the rules, but if she wanted to be a doctor then helping people was what she was supposed to do. Supposed to. For some reason that thought had always been the one to drive her. What she wanted didn’t matter.

It never really had, had it?

So she reached the door and hesitantly exited the room, trying not to look at any of her classmates. If she got to the end and her help wasn’t needed, then she could just slip back into the classroom and hope no-one mentioned her leaving.

Making an effort to move as quietly as possible, she headed in the direction Mr. Lehrer had gone, making her way outside. That seemed to be the right direction, didn’t it? If not, she could always head back. She could still head back now. What if she got in trouble? Any problems and her parents would kill her.

But she walked, quiet, trying not to draw any attention as she opened the door to the faint sound of somebody crying.

And as she turned to behold the scene, her eyes widened and she froze stock-still, looking at the protrusion that could only have been the source of the initial scream. No doubt Mr. Lehrer would have heard her quiet exclamation, looking over the scene in quiet but curious horror. God, what was she supposed to do here? Of course she should have stayed; seeing as she’d given her presence away, she was guaranteed to have gotten herself into trouble.

She’d been stupid, hadn’t she? There was no fixing this, no way to make it better. Of course she’d expected something bad, but she’d braced herself for gore, broken bones and torn flesh. It was supposed to be something she could do something about. They weren’t supposed to be already dead. People weren't supposed to turn to stone.

“I-- I’m sorry.” Apologising to Mr. Lehrer for following, to the sobbing girl for not knowing what to do, to the statue for not having any way to fix this. Disconnected, detached, heart pounding in her ears. Had to close herself off, be numb to it, but she couldn’t. It was too real, too unfamiliar, nothing like the things she’d let herself get desensitised to. It wasn’t an accident, wasn’t a mistake. This was a murder scene, plain and simple.

Sebastian Scott had been killed by a hype, that was what they’d all been saying. And now, looking at this girl, even if she was jumping to conclusions...

Ryan couldn't shake the feeling that he had only been the start.