[System]
Age: 30

Sex: Male

Appearance: 6'2" with black hair and blue eyes. White skinned. Noticeable facial hair at the chin and finely trimmed. Sporting a more Westerly appearance with a short and thin leather duster coat, white button-up shirt with a popped-out collar and a loose scarf-like tie, dark faded blue jeans, and boots.

"Shh, I'm focusing...And trying to look intimidating."

Like many of the Societas Academia, Travis has a very good understanding how magic functions and how certain spells are performed. Being an Untalent however, much of what he has learned is unfortunately outside of his realm of implementation and only gets by with the bare basics of each aspect. But to him, this is perfectly fine; the spells Travis can produce by himself are considered useful survival tools in order to help him get by.

His real prowess is through the deciphered tomes and runes recovered throughout his journeys, capable of extending his abilities beyond his current potential. Though if anything, they too are yet another means of allowing him dissect and better understand their magical functionalities and eventually reproduce their effects in more manageable and efficient methods.

Funnily enough, given his recent and occasionally perilous encounters, Travis has been seen to be a rather surprisingly athletic runner.

"Magic is simply another form of science that is growing and evolving as we continue to discover and learn more about it."

Being an Untalent amongst a rather social community of more capable Talents can definitely be rough. Condemned to a lesser status because of one's natural inability to coordinate with magic fluidly was the fate many Untalents within the Societas Academia faced almost daily. Travis however didn't seem to be bothered by this too much. In fact, he was perhaps too busy studying and discussing theories to really care at all.

While as an Untalent and indeed had higher expectations set against him by his self-deserving peers, he enthusiastically conceptualized these endeavors as welcomed challenges in order solve rather petty societal crises to stress about. Though Travis was no ace mage and was more likely a magician as far as skills go, his main strength was his constructed knowledge base with a fierce understanding of the architecture of mana and magic implementation.

After years of hard study and grueling practice, Travis eventually achieved the rank of Aspect trainee and began the next phase of his training. Without any particular proficiency found in any particular set of spells, he would then opt-in into the Aspect of Scholar. As one would expect from his intuitive personality, Travis had felt right at home with his new position and became eager to set out for new discoveries.

What he didn't know was how cruel and horrifying the world could be outside the Societas Academia. The concept of death was something many students were well versed in, some more than others, but to experience and its many forms was something rather undesirable. Thus for Travis, now a Scholar, would soon come to know and witness this concept on more than one occasion as he pursues his quest for knowledge.

"So I spoke to an ebony dressed lady from the Cult of the Enlightened. We actually had a pleasant conversation until I asked about the concept of soul weaving. She laughed. Her fur coat cried. Suffice to say, I left in a hurry."

Despite his humble demeanor, surprisingly as an Untalent, Travis is certainly not afraid to speak his mind and express his views when necessary, sometimes comical or sarcastic if it benefits the mood. Being an easily fascinated and curious sort, he takes his role as a Scholar by heart (if not seriously) and seeks knowledge whenever he can find it; until it gets him into trouble. Nonetheless, he does show great pride and devotion to his line of work, atypical as it may be.

Travis can sometimes be described as a pacifist or "pass-the-fist" as he himself describes it. He sees no need for violence and certainly rejects the notion of killing but acknowledges the need for self-defense if he cannot negotiate his way out of a troubling confrontation. Of course said confrontations are usually created by something he may have said or done without any harmful or insulting intent.

"When the going gets tough...See to it you're not where the tough goes."

[User]
Yuno glanced off towards Nemo once he made his way to the stairs before taking in a deep breath. "Well, it seems we were in agreement then. Goodnight, Travis." She stated before turning around and making her own way upstairs. Briefly straightening her arms out in front of her and then over her head as she walked to loosen and relax the. The day had been rather hectic at this point in time, and sleep seemed like the best course of action for her if she wasn't getting anything further tonight. Yet, she had a feeling her sleep wouldn't be very easy due to the anticipation and the fact the group she was now sharing the building with was full of rather interesting characters. Finding a room on the right she slipped quietly inside and turned on one of the lights to examine the room closer. Certainly, it was far better than most dorms at the academy so it was almost as if she were on vacation and not looking for the truth behind a possible quest. Spoils of good work perhaps? Though, she hasn't gotten a chance to do too much as of yet which simply tried her patience when it comes to how long she is willing to spend without definitive proof. Yet, a part of her enjoyed the change from the day she had been having back at the Acadamia which was mostly stuck inside classes she had to cram for while working on that paper she disliked. Thinking this over she determined she definitely could stay calm about the events going on here as long as it would remain interesting, at least outside of the possible violence and weary eye she planned to keep towards Nemo.

Residing towards the window of the room Yuno took a brief portion of her time to examine the stars once again as she had been before. Of course they didn't change to much in the distance between the Acadamia and this shelter Felix created. However, she wondered to herself how far this may take her if Felix was able to teleport that far and regularly in search of her, the other recruits, and next the Paragons. "…My mother would kill me in she found out about this-" she commented aloud to herself before moving away from the window many minutes after she had started her night watch. Without clothes to change into she determined it would be beneficial to sleep in her undergarments tonight. Leaving her outfit folded neatly on whatever dresser may be available and slipping under the covers she noted how nice the beds ended up being. Sinking into the softness and resting her head now with her hair flowing instead of a ponytail she left out a long overdue sigh of relaxation and closed her eyes. Slowly drifting off into a dreamless sleep.

[Assistant]
Artos Bane

Artos chuckled softly as the temperature continued to drop around him to frighteningly low levels, his breathe now came in puffs but he was at least comfortable now. Thankfully the sphere of influence he had created was roughly an inch away from his own body, making sure nobody else would suffer like he did from unoptimized weather. Being from white-out homeland he was from it was unlikely he would get accustomed to the weather differences any time soon.

"I'm fine. Just.. heat and me don't get along."

His canteens slowly emptied the pure crystal blue water, it's rich mana infused touch flowed over him with a rejuvenating effect. The soft healing eased his sore body as Artos picked himself off the floor, for the second time today he added quietly, to stand tall and proud. Felix had returned and expressed his concerns too, to which a quick wave confirmed he was indeed still alive. Artos returned his attentions back to Travis and offered his hand out.

"Apologies. I am Artos Bane, of the north, I believe is how you all refer to it. To whom do I have the pleasure of introducing myself to?"

Artos could not hide his curiosity as he took in every aspect of the man. Pale skin, long leather coat with no visible weaponry, dressed warm but clearly not for practical reasons like back home. The mans attire spoke more of a scholar than a fighter. Most of the people who had retired since he had arrived had a similar feel. Even Felix, without his armor, seemed unprepared.. Maybe the rest of them were the same.

[User]
Jessie nodded and followed Felix through the portal. Once through, she glanced around at the new location.
A rather comfortable looking room, plenty of space. There were also two other people in the room, Jessie assumed that those two, Felix and herself, were not in fact, the entirety of their party.
"So uh, Felix? You came to pick me up with kinda only the bare minimum explanation. Wanna give me a more detailed rundown on where we are now, and what the plan is?"

[Assistant]
Felix raised a slight eyebrow at the summoner's question.

"I told you about the paragon's didn't I? Well then you are on the same page as the other five in this building. As for where we are, we are in the Redwood forest in Northern California, USA. Technically, in terms of sleep times, this time zone is only five hours ahead of yours. It was about 8:00 PM in New Zealand, and it is midnight here. So you should be able to still sleep if you had a long eventful day." Felix explained, "As for our plan well, I am waiting until morning to disclose that information to everyone at the same time. Let's just say that, if you like Indiana Jones, you'll like what I have planned."

Felix looked around, "Well, I don't know about all of you but I am going to bed, we have a big day ahead of us. All of the guest rooms are up stars. Feel free to choose any of the unoccupied ones." And with that, Felix walked off towards the master bedroom which was just behind the study on the first floor.

[User]
It took a moment to Travis realize how pale, and blue, the man's skin was once he had gotten a closer look. It was almost as if the stranger himself was frozen in a well below sub-zero environment, but obviously the warmer and cozier surroundings betrayed that notion. Eventually, the pale blue-skinned figure, now appearing much more livelier than previously observed, explained that he was not very well versed with the heat, as evident by the cold atmosphere that surrounded him.

Felix returned finally, and with him yet another recruit for this fated adventure. Travis didn't pay too much mind at first to their new female counterpart at first as Felix queried about the man's condition. The stranger however waved off Felix's worries as a gesture to confirm he was well. "He's good," Travis replied.

Extending his hand to to Travis, the man identified himself as Artos Bane of the North; at least that possibly explained the cold essence about him. Travis of course kindly met the gesture but only to find out that by shaking hands with Artros did he really understand how cold to the touch he truly was.

"Y-you may call be Travis McGrath, or just Travis," the Untalent hesitantly replied with a chuckle as he felt his own body heat literally being zapped away, "And damn, you are really cold - not to be rude. I must ask how you're beyond not bothered by this element."

[Assistant]
Artos Bane

Artos smiled politely and mistook Travis' shaking momentarily for being shy. It was only when he spoke up about it that he pulled back his hand and took a large step back, separating him and Travis from the cold zone he had created. A very small smirk slipped onto his face at the irony of the statement. Beyond not bothered.. by a little cold?

"Not rude at all. My homeland is one of constant snow and freezing climates. My village in particular is protected by a blizzard so cold it has taken to freezing protected men in moments. Observe."

Artos was unaccustomed to the etiquette of those not from his homeland and was thus unconcerned with property damage as he grabbed a random book off the shelf, quickly leafing through it to ensure it was not some sacred tome or magical guide book. The written word was understandable, thankfully, and the words all nonsense anyhow. Artos turned and held the book out for Travis to see, with the swordsmans hands on the spine and cover firmly. A focus of his mana brought the temperature in his sphere of control to well beyond freezing in mere moments, the sheer cold froze the book in moments, to which Artos merely flexed his hands and shattered it into shards.

"If you are unprepared for such weather, the youth of my homeland die. Only the strong can survive it." Artos gave a light chuckle, as if the concept of death by freezing was somehow not a horrific fate. "You asked how I am not bothered by it, but the same goes in reverse. This domiciles temperature was practically suffocating. How can you stand such oppressive heat? The answer seems to be that we are familiar to very different things.."

Artos again glanced at the mans attire, this time much more noticably examining the fellow.

"Apologies now if I sound rude, Travis McGrath, but I see no weapons on your person. Perhaps you employ the use of hidden weapons?"

[User]
@Zelosse
Jessie looked over at the two other mages in the room.
"So, you guys get roped into the kooky quest too? Do you think its legit?"
She asked as she walked over to the two.
"I'm Jessie by the way. Jessie Link."

[Assistant]
"Impressive" Travis commented as Artos demonstrated his prowess in ice-related magic by encasing a non-relevant textbook in a thick layer of frost before crushing frozen book into pieces.

Artos soon briefly explained the spartan-esque tradition of his homeland where only the strong and the more capable that can handle the terrible cold can survive. He soon gave a chuckle afterwards as if the cruel concept was mere child's play. However, Artos soon confronted Travis regarding the climate most humans were used to, almost complaining how hard it was to breath with so much unaccustomed heat ever permeating through the air but quickly concluded it was a matter of familiarity.

"That we can universally agree on for the time being." he acknowledged, not wanting to enter into a debate or much less a lecture.

Like Yuno before, Travis observed Artos scanning him as if to form an opinion. Did he really look all that unusual? Apparently so to everyone else; maybe it was the coat? After awhile, Artos curiously asked if he maintained any weapons of his own after finding none externally.

"Eh, Not really. Nothing pointy or shooty in the least..." Travis vaguely explained, "Fighting is generally something I tend to avoid at all times if I can help it. I'm a Scholar so much of what I try to do is not looking for trouble, though rather opposite."

Just as Travis finished his sentence did a softer voice made itself known. The voice belonged to Jessie Link as she introduced herself; she was the same woman Felix had recruited and brought back moments before. Breaking the interaction with Artos breifly, Travis turned in replay to face Jessie in reply.

"Indeed we have Miss Link. You may call me Travis," he greeted in a bow, "While I'm sure we all have our different opinions of Felix and his incredible quest, I do however find many reasons to believe him thus far."


[System]
Basics
--------------------
Age: 24

Birthday: June 10th

Gender: Male

Personality: Nicholas believes in strong, well-balanced teamwork. He usually tries to take a leadership role, but if someone showing more confidence and toughness than him comes along, he quickly falls behind. He doesn't say much, but once he gets talking, he can't stop.

Notable traits: Overprotective, sharp-witted

--------------------
Appearance
--------------------
General: Not the most handsome person, but not too hard on the eyes, either. He's got a pretty average weight and, due to the recent goings-on, a muscular build.

Skin tone: Tanned

Hair color: Light brown

Eye color: Dark brown

Height: 6'1"

Weight: 170lbs

Other: N/A

---------------------
Miscellaneous
---------------------
Biography: Before the disease began to spread in his hometown, Nicholas lived with his parents and ten-year-old sister. He worked as a roofer while attending college to work with computers. Since most of the residents in the town have become infected, he's taken refuge in a warehouse with his little sister and sick mother.

Equipment: On hand, two machetes, a combat knife, a rifle, a 24-pack of bottled water, various canned foods, and three blankets. Warehouse has various goods stocked.

Living relatives: Mother (Melinda), little sister (Alisa)

Other: He can lift, push, and pull up to 280lbs.

[User]
"Yeah, I know," he said, referring to her comment about her soiled clothing. "We're gonna find you something to wear. Let's just kind of get moving a bit. I know it's probably disgusting," he looked over at her. "Here, let's try here."

They hadn't walked very far, but Nicholas randomly chose a house to stop in. He imagined that Mattie was very uncomfortable in her blood-stained clothing. He wouldn't want to be walking around wearing them, either.

[Assistant]
Mattie hurried inside the house and breathed a sigh of relief at the thought of different clothes. She went up some stairs in search of a closet, found a woman's bedroom, and rummaged through her wardrobe. Without a second thought as to whether or not she'd been followed, she pulled on a T-shirt, a pair of jeans, and a jean jacket that looked a little stupid but which Mattie wore regardless. Then she grabbed a pair of sunglasses and put those on.

Next stop: Bathroom. She found some makeup-removal wipes and went through all of them to get the blood droplets off of her skin, tested to sink to see if it worked (it didn't), and investigated the woman's makeup collection (it looked awful). "Boom! I'm a new person now," she said loudly as she headed back down the stairs, but then she made a stop in the laundry room. There had to be some, come on, come on... and there it was! A bottle of unscented bleach.

Mattie grabbed the container and nodded satisfied at its weight; it seemed at least half full to her. She stuffed it into one of the backpacks and turned her head. "I'm good, unless you want to loot the place. It's pretty untouched."

[User]
Nicholas stood in the front doorway, halfway in the house and halfway on the porch, while Mattie paraded up the stairs. He figured there would be no use in following her since she was going to change clothing, and he knew it would be inappropriate for him to watch her. He tapped his foot on the wood of the entry hallway and waited. She was taking such a long time, he started to worry about her on top of his anxiety of being discovered by the undead.

He heard her yell something upstairs, but he hesitated to run up there because her voice didn't sound panicked and he hadn't heard any other commotion. As he contemplated running to her potential rescue, he saw her coming down the stairs. Relief lightened his head in a good way, and he was about to say something to her when she turned and went into another room as if she hadn't even seen him. He grumbled underneath his breath.

Then, she finally came to face him again. "Untouched?" he asked incredulously. "Really? I've been in almost every unlocked house on this street." He pushed past her and started looking in rooms. Empty rooms. Definitely empty rooms. In fact, two of the rooms didn't even have furniture.

After semi-thoroughly checking the entire first floor, Nicholas dubiously marched up the stairs and found himself in a short, narrow hallway. He picked the first room to his right, which seemed to be the master bedroom. He guessed this was where Mattie found her clothing, and left it. Upon entering the room across the hallway, the first thing he saw was a crib. He sighed. He already knew what was going to happen next.

So, when he approached the crib, what did he find? A sleeping baby, of course. Or maybe it was dead. Sick? Infected. He didn't know. He stared at it as if it had just insulted his entire family. "Mattie," he yelled, "Did'ja check any other rooms? Come up here, please."

Big blue eyes opened up and stared at him, and then the infant began to wail.

[Assistant]
"No, I didn't," she called, and she followed him slowly up the stairs, curious as to what he might have found. Shortly after she'd started tailing Nicholas, the most God-awful voice assaulted her eardrums and made Mattie cringe. She knew that sound from underpaid babysitting jobs; a feeling of dread settled over her as she entered the room and her eyes fell upon the crib. Oh, no. What were they supposed to do with a baby?

Mattie was not good at caring for other human beings. Therapists had told her that the lack of human interaction and limited affection in her early life had damaged that bit of her brain or something like that, but she knew that it would be unforgivable to leave the poor thing to starve here. Cautiously, she reached into the crib and prodded at the infant to check for anything like bites. She turned her head and looked at Nicholas with round eyes.

Her voice was soft at this point. "Maybe we should look for diapers and baby food." She chewed her lip. This was a challenge she certainly hadn't seen coming.

[User]
The baby couldn't have been more than a few months old, Nicholas thought. It looked almost like his sister did when she was that young. It had virtually no hair, and was clad solely in a diaper, left without blankets in the cold house. He remembered going into Alisa's room when she was so small, during the winter, and tucking blankets tightly around her so that her cries would hush and not wake his parents.

"It's just..." he hesitated, not wanting to voice the thought. "It's so...healthy. This house wasn't open a couple days ago. Where did its parents go...?"

He looked around for a sign. Any sign. A note, maybe? But nothing. Maybe the zombies had gotten its parents. But why didn't they get the child? It was so helpless, so vulnerable...

Nicholas reached into the crib and carefully pulled the baby into his arms, cradling it against his chest. He looked around for a blanket, or maybe some clothes. The kid was probably freezing and hungry. He slowly walked over to a dresser by the window, effortlessly and lightly bouncing the baby as he did. He was relieved to find plenty of clothes that would no doubt fit. He pulled out a blue and white striped onesie with long sleeves.

After he dressed the child, he sat on the floor and laid it in his lap, gesturing at Mattie. "Give me the back with the blankets." When she did, he wrapped the blankets around the baby. "I think it's a boy because of the clothing they've got for it, but I can't be sure. Here, hold him," he said, giving him to Mattie.

He went back across the hallway and started tearing the master bedroom apart. He knew they had to have some sort of baby album. Birth certificate. Hospital band. Something.

Then, he found it. The birth certificate. Oddly enough, the only thing he could make out was the name. He walked over to the next room and told Mattie, "It's a boy. His name is Cole S-...Sh-...Suh- what does this say?" he asked, handing the slip of paper to her.

[Assistant]
Before Mattie could say anything, there was a baby in her arms. Perhaps surprisingly, though, she didn't complain, just held it and crooned softly, "Aren't you a little cutie?" while making the blankets nice and snug for him. She smiled and cradled him, calming him with a slow and gentle sweeping motion in her arms until Nicholas came back, at which point Mattie stopped immediately so that he wouldn't comment.

When he handed her the birth certificate, she didn't snatch it as she usually did with things, but took it lightly like the paper was an egg and might break if she gripped too hard. "Shraiman?" she said. "Cole Shraiman." She was still at a loss. "I hope he has formula, or something." If there was a thing Mattie wasn't willing to do, it was to rescue a baby from an empty house only to watch it starve on the journey.

Without another word, she gave the slip of paper back and carried little Cole down the stairs and went into the kitchen. "Don't you worry, little guy, you'll have something to eat soon," she said, rummaging with one hand as she did so, careful to hold the infant. She started to whistle softly as she did so.

[User]
Confused but not too surprised by Mattie's sudden change of character, Nicholas followed her to see what she could find. Electricity had been a thing of the past for a while now, so he hesitated to check the fridge, but did so anyway. Obviously, there was nothing of use in there. Instead, he looked through the cabinets above the counters and eventually found empty baby bottles.

"Here," he said, putting them on the counter in front of Mattie. "Found anything else?"

[Assistant] In response, Mattie held up a half-empty jar of baby food that miraculously hadn't expired yet. She slid it into one of the backpacks, then grabbed the bottles and did the same with them, and said, "We'd best be on the move again. I don't want to be stuck in here with a baby should they track us down. Did you pick up diapers? Those would be...an asset." She inwardly shuddered with the knowledge that sooner or later she would have to change this kid's diaper.

[User]
"Diapers," Nicholas sighed. "Right."

He trekked back up the stairs and into Cole's bedroom. Would they be in here or in the bathroom? He was clueless. Still, he searched around, opening drawers. He decided to stuff some of the clothes into his backpack. He looked in the crib and grabbed a stuffed monkey and blue pacifier. Just in case. He left the bedroom and looked for a bathroom, and upon finding one he started searching its cabinets. Before long, he found an unopened pack of diapers, and for some reason he felt very lucky.

"I found them," he told Mattie when he went back down the stairs. "I got his pacifier and some clothes and, uh, a stuff monkey for him." He looked at her and reached out for Cole. "Lemme hold him."

[Assistant]
Mattie held out the baby carefully and let Nicholas hold Cole. In exchange, she crammed the pacifier, the clothes, the monkey and the diapers into the backpack and headed for the front door. She peeked out of the window in case any of the infected were in a position to ambush them. She saw none, but they could be absolutely anywhere. Waiting and lusting for spilled blood. Her eyes flickered toward Nicholas, and she felt a sudden wave of gladness that he had found her. Quickly she suppressed it.

"We'll take turns holding him," she said, turning the knob. "That way we'll give each other rests from it." She opened the door and stuck her head out, again to make sure that no living dead were approaching, and stepped outside. Then she changed her mind, hurried to the kitchen and grabbed a sharp knife, and headed back toward the door. She needed something now that she had lost her crowbar.

[User]
Nicholas handled Cole carefully, making sure to support his head at all times. He held him close to his chest, and started to follow Mattie out the door. He examined the kitchen knife she was holding, considering its size, which was quite small compared to a weapon they might need if they came across a living dead. Before he forgot, Nicholas walked back into the house to grab the bag he'd left on the floor. While keeping a firm hold on Cole, he struggled to put the backpack on his back, along with the other one he had. He ended up having to gently place the baby on the floor, put the second backpack on top of the first one, and then pick him back up.

"Mattie," he said, catching back up to her. "You can take a weapon out of the bag. I won't mind."

The only thing he didn't really want her to carry in her hands was his rifle. It wasn't even that he was particular about his rifle, because, as previously mentioned, Nicholas had never really been the type of person who went crazy about guns. His father had been that type of person, but Nicholas just wasn't. The reason why he didn't want her to handle his rifle is because...well, he wasn't too sure about her. He'd seen that she was quite impulsive, and didn't seem very rational when angered. This combination could result in a quick death for him, and that was the very opposite of what he was trying to get.

"Just-" he paused, unsure if he should voice his concern about her keeping away from the gun. "Just...Just..." he got stuck, repeating the word over and over again until he growled in frustration and said, "Just nevermind."

Cole became uneasy, wriggling around in his arms. Maybe it was too warm in his bundle of blankets, Nicholas wondered. He didn't want to uncover him because it was quite chilly out in the open air. He bounced him as they walked.

"We're going to have to find some milk or something," he said softly. "That baby food won't last and he can't eat any of what I packed. I wasn't exactly prepared for this..."


[System]
gender: Male
godly parents: Satan, Echidna
sphere of control: Monsters, Chaos, Strength, Wrath
appearance: Anatole appears as an emaciated old man of around eighty years old, with a crown on his head and a staff. He bears a more than superficial, but not identical appearance to Hades of the Greek Pantheon. His robe is read and his staff is a magical one, bearing a potent ruby at the tip. The robe is golden embroidered from the chest downward to the hem of his robe above his feet.
personality: He is a wise old man, spry and out going but serious, and capable of giving guidance. He can be a bit of a trouble maker but there is no more of a strained "relationship" between him and his biological father, Satan. There aren't many people who can claim Satan as a biological father. Echidna, his mother at least kind of likes him even though she doesn't necessarily consider him as a normal parent would. The fact he grew up with good, Human parents made him wise and appreciative of the small things of life. He gives guidance to both young children and the teenagers, the young men and women and even other old. . . how to avoid trouble and how to learn through life's challenges. Because of his unique parentage he doesn't consider himself a deity.
sacred animal: Owls
Powers: Anatole is second in strength only to Balor. His power to cause trouble is enormous, and he can do so by the conjuration of monsters. When he is angry his powers of causing destruction grow, and he can conjure the powers of weather manipulation and the ability to control fires to a potentially absurd degree. He can inflict black magic curses on enemies although he prefers right out annihilation since he considers curses to be evil. He can, of course, conjure powerful illusions as well.
weapon(s): His magical ruby staff can augment supernatural powers to be greater than they are.
other
He's referred to as the Lord of the Vampires, and many titles regarding monsters since he's the "god" of monsters.

[User]
Alexander stood in the throne room of Olympus, gazing thoughtfully at the throne that used to belong to his father. With the passing of Zeus, who now would rule the gods? Him, perhaps? Or one of the stronger ones?
"My son." The voice sounded from behind him, and Alexander turned with a smile. Of all the gods that survived, he was glad his mother was one of them. Isis stood there, smiling gently upon her youngest child. "Why do you linger here? Go, celebrate your victory. Let the throne wait until another day. We will soon see who will rule."
"You're right, mother." Alexander took his mother's hand and walked towards the door. "Let's go." Mother and son stepped into the light together.

"Try again, hjarta minn." Loki coached, holding his hands out with green fire between them. "You know how to use your magic. Channel it into fire, and set it loose."
Ronin held her hands out, face locked in concentration as she struggled to produce even a wisp of flame. That was her weak point, fire; she could neither conjure it nor control it. Giving up, she slumped in her seat, letting her hands fall. "I'll never do it, faðir. Can we not leave fire to its deities?"
"Are you or are you not goddess of magic?" Letting a smirk cross his face, Loki taunted his daughter. "If you are, then prove it to me! Show me fire!" He hoped that his verbal sniping would irritate her into doing it.
Ronin growled, angry, and stretched out her hands again. Sweat began to show on her face, she bit her lip until she drew blood, but at last, she created a tiny spark of purple fire. "Ha! I did it!" She exclaimed, sustaining her tiny wisp of flame.
"Good, hjarta minn." Loki grinned; his taunting had worked. "Now that you have done it once, it will be easier next time. Keep practicing, Ronin." He stood and offered his hand to her; she accepted it and stood as well.
"I will, faðir."
"I know you will."

[Assistant]
Cthylla had just entered the throne room of Zeus. She started to approach the throne with her shovel in hand. She had always wanted more power, which was the reason for her former killing of her own mother Kali. She hadn't really cared who she killed to obtain her goals, she just wanted more of it. As Cthylla approached the throne she came to realize one thing, it was too big. She wouldn't be able to fit on this throne at all. She sighed for a moment before stretching out her shovel at the throne. As she did several tentacles came out and filled the inside of the throne to make it a suitable place for her to sit.

"Much better." Cythlla said with a smile as she approached the throne and sat in the slithery throne she had created, she looked very small compared to the rest of the throne but she didn't care. "I have to admit sitting in this chair feels right, I don't see why none of you other gods have taken the opportunity to take this chair." Cythlla said as a twisted smile came on her face. She believed in the rule of First Come first Serve. Though she did know she wasn't a proper queen of the gods she did enjoy this. Of course with this move she had declared herself as a runner up to become ruler of the gods.

[User] Connor entered the throne room of Olympus. . . "Cythlla we need to talk. I apologize for arriving on such short notice, but I couldn't help but realize you defeated one of the most powerful gods of the entire world, and it was such irresponsible murder I had to take the matter up with you. Shiva is angry, incredibly angry and he has asked me to get revenge for it. I'm not sure I can do that but I can try to reason with you somehow. You have put the world in danger by murdering a goddess." His hand was by his sword but his demeanor was diplomatic. "Please try to understand that by the wanton murder of Kali you have angered far more than just the gods of India".

[Assistant]
Of all the people to be sent on this mission, it just had to be him. He hated dealing with most of the other gods, especially those of his generation, but being forced to directly confront one of them made it far worse. However, when you're asked nicely to do things, you don't want to say no.

Those who didn't bother you wouldn't bother you as long as you don't piss it off, and pissing off the rest of the pantheon was one of the last things Cynbel wanted to do.

Cynbel entered the throne room, happy that he found the girl he was searching for. The son of Shiva being there was a bit of a surprise, but him being there was only appropriate given the girl's crime. Still, Cynbel was just going to act as if he wasn't there, it was a lot easier that way. He didn't exactly dislike him, but he didn't exactly like him either.

"Cythlla, the pantheon requests that you come with us down to his domain. The murder of Kali must go through the court. If you refuse to comply, I will be forced to take you there with me. I'd much rather we handle this peacefully, but I was sent for a reason. "

Cynbel wasn't expecting her to go peacefully, and he was sure the pantheon thought the same. There was no point in sending Cynbel, especially considering who was sent as Cynbel's backup. It was more like Cynbel was the backup. The person that was sent with him was more than capable enough of "dealing with" her, but that didn't mean he would. . .

[User]
Masrith sat in his own throne. His faced looked blank as he peered into time itself. He could see the fate of Kali and the trial that now was ahead. The fate of Kali was known to him long before it happened. He could have stopped it if he wanted to but simply chose not to interfere.

He smirked to himself. "Why do people do such pointless things?. I understand that the strong replace the weak but how is it taken on such an emotional response." He stood up from his chair and paced the floor. He hoped they wouldn't want him to appear at the court. It would be such a bother. "I see everything. They may want me there for that fact." Masrith let out a sigh. "I'll watch something else." His face turned blank again as he stared into time.

[Assistant]
Cthylla watched as some of the other young gods entered, she gave them a toothy grin before sitting up right. "Looks like the Lap dogs have arrived. Have you ever considered that you aren't living up to your potential?" Cthylla said with a smile. She knew she couldn't take on two at once, while she was powerful she wasn't the strongest. However she understood one thing above all else, all of the children gods who let their parents lived weren't living up to their potential.

"It's time for a change don't you think? It's time you stop being lap dogs. Nothing but slaves to your parents." Cthylla said with a grin as she stood up coming down from the throne, her shovel in one hand.
"You deserve more, you have been working hard, and yet they use you as simple errand boys, that's not living you to your potential, that's then keeping you down, keeping you under control." Cthylla continued as she approached Conner soon coming face to face with him. She stopped once she was at his feet, putting her shovel down in front of her to use as sort of support, she was the shortest of the gods, but she was also the scariest.

"Your so much more powerful than them, and they know it! Their keeping you below them though, is that really what you want? Do you want to be their errand boy for the rest of your existence? At least until you have out grown our usefulness, then they will kill you. That was what Kali was planning to do." Cthylla said, she looked over Cynbel too, her question was directed at both of them.

[User]
"...young one, you forget yourself."

Five lines intersect in the world, and one of the five is cleaved away. Arms, legs, torso, heads, come into being.

Space bent, the world itself distorting as per the right of those divine weapons designed to conquer all. Standing in front of Cynbel, looking forwards at Cthylla, He appeared.

The one who had remained dormant while the Merging had occurred. The one who had maintained his nature through coalescion of divine right. The one who had refused to acknowledge the Merging as anything of note. After all, all gods are merely the component of the same central font, emanations of that transcendent power that overflows all. The point where it is realized that Atman is Brahman, where expansion becomes contraction.

Brahma appeared before the gathered children, three of his heads speaking in quiet undertones, constantly reciting a forgotten legend, while a single one of them addressed the one who had dared to murder one of the emanations of the Black One.

"Even he of the terrifying roar at least sought power for the sake of making an ideal world. He became a monster, but he became one so that he could bring mankind together in joy."

There was no feeling of anger in his voice, no emotion, no wistfulness. It was simply there.

"Young one, won't you stop this farce and come with us? I do not wish for more blood to be shed."

[Assistant] Anatole then came into the throne room next. "This is ridiculous. The murder of Kali was inexcusable, but should it really take Brahma or all of us to take her in. I say we let three of us take her in and let it be done with. It isn't like she's the entire titanic Pantheon or anything, she's just one of us. A quite powerful member of the divine family nonetheless, but not necessarily so strong that she could overwhelm both two or three of us and Brahma as well." Anatole's old body looked in stark contrast to the beauty of Brahma, as a less refined, but deceptively intelligent, if wild old man.


[System]
Element:Boron
Age: 42
Gender: Male

Appearance: A short, stout man with rounded shoulders and a shining, bald head, middle-aged and usually dressed for a day spent outdoors(button up cotton shirts and cargo pants usually in the summer his sleeves are rolled up just past the elbow). 1.6 meters tall and not quite over weight. Deep red-brown skin that is smooth and surprisingly tough. Often slips from memory, or at least into obscure memory shortly after leaving direct observation, he has worked to develop an "average" aura.

Powers: reflects heat and isn't burned by anything under 2300 K(~2050 *C), is immune electric shock(non-conductive), and can shift into a pile, or low, drifting cloud of brown dust. He also wasn't as affected by the gas during basic training as the other recruits, though his sergeant said there was usually one kid who wasn't bothered by the stuff.

Weapons: A Nosler M48 TGR, a boron carbide tomahawk with a polished cherry wood handle, and a K-bar usually worn on his belt. (only the K-bar is usually carried, the rest he keeps in his car trunk or in a locker at home.

Backstory: A Native American born on a reservation in North Carolina, his powers didn't manifest until his late teens. Tecum, as most called him, hid his powers as best he could, knowing the power of fear first hand already. He hated school and joined the military to avoid college, where he became a paratrooper. He worked with the airborne artillery in the 82nd for ten years before being honorably discharged. Now he runs a small tour service in the NC mountain;, where he meets many people and learns more from listening to their talk than they think. He's working on locating other "elementals" mostly out curiosity and knowing that they will be considered outcasts, and freaks, just as his people are in America.
He has inherited a large portion of a largely unpopulated mountain in NC and is buying up the rest as he can. He has built a modest but sturdy house there, and is considering building a dormitory style shelter for any elementals that he may find. He is very secretive, while being an outgoing and engaging person. He does this by saying a lot without ever actually saying anything of value. He's never broken any laws, but he's not very fond of the US government or Europeans in general, because of his people's history with both groups. He can live off the land if he needs to, but enjoys the modern accommodations in his home and car.
He currently lives alone, though he had hopes of marrying one day, those dreams seem out of reach now. In private, his few good friends now him to be kind and protective as well as tenacious and vicious in his defense of family or retaliation on their behalf. His parents are dead, having died early due drug and alcohol addictions. He has no siblings, but considers his squad to be family and keeps up with each member. He is often called "Uncle Tecum" by the children of his squad mates, a name he encourages and lives up to with pride.

[User]
It was yet another day at the Stock Exchange, really. With a heritage dating back as early as 1585, the Frankfurt Stock Exchange was unquestionably one of the world's foremost financial institutions. Though the methods had changed over the centuries, the simple facts were the same- fortunes made and lost within moments, the financial word divided between the quick and the dead.

Outwardly it was the same for Hannelore Buchholz, a middle-aged woman married to her career. She was, as always, seated between Schumann and Nguyen, having orders barked to her by her boss Weisser. Billions of Euros she would never see or touch passed tantalizingly close before her, untouchable despite being only inches away on her computer screen. Pantsuit, earpiece, screen, it was all there, all comfortingly familiar.

But today things were a bit different.

Unnoticed beneath her desk, Hannelore was practicing with her free hand. It had been two months since she had figured out what she could do with her entire body, and she had spent a couple nights afterwards at the old railyard, cautiously lifting coaches when she was sure no one was around. But she was unsure of the extent to which she could control her transformation, and so here she was today. Her left hand out of sight under her desk, she tried to will it to turn into titanium- her left hand and nothing else. Her educated, orderly mind insisted on these tests, it was good to know her limits and capabilities as she searched for an actual use for this strange ability.

She concentrated, eyes squinting, brow sweating. Perhaps too much.

"Buchholz!" Weisser, her supervisor, snapped. Despite his dreamy expression and wooly cardigan, the old man always knew when someone's attention lapsed, even momentarily.

She automatically spun around, looking guilty and apologetic, as she had done a hundred times before. But this time was different, of course. She miscalculated her turn.

And her hand tore through the wooden desk without difficulty, simply the horrendous sound of wood splintering and tearing. Guiltily, she looked down to her left hand, only briefly taking in Schumann's open mouth or Nguyen's subtler arched eyebrow. She expected to see metal.

But instead, her hand was only flesh and blood.

"Frau Buchholz," Weisser said after a long moment, staring at the massive hole in the wooden desk. "Perhaps you might like to return home for the remainder of the day?" It was a rare display of charity from the unforgiving old man, doubtlessly brought on simply by confusion.

Nevertheless, Hannelore took it. It would be smarter for her to practice at home, anyways. "Yes, Herr Weisser, perhaps I should," she said humbly, gathering up her few items as Nguyen and Schumann stared at the torn desk in confusion. She left quickly, avoiding eye contact with anyone. The confused silence was soon overtaken by the sound of typing once more, though. The quick and the dead.

[Assistant]
Herme---Mercury

Herme threw her head back, a single tear running down her face as she spoke in a hurried, defeated tone, "Greg, how could you do this to me! I loved you more than anyone else in the world and you had to run to Samantha? Was there something she could give you that I couldn't? Is it something wrong with my face? It's something wrong with my face, isn't it?" The elderly man who stood before her wore a tight Hawaiian shirt that was just a little too form revealing, and the thoughts that were running through his head were probably thoughts of utter confusion.

"Ma'am do I know you?" At these words Herme drew her arm back and slapped him across the face.

"Gregory how dare you! You... you've already forgotten me? After all we went through together? You're a disgrace to the human race! Go dig your own grave!" With his face, now quite red the old man began to grow angrier with each passing second.

"Look lady, I came into this store to buy a tv. Leave me to shop at my leisure before I sue for assault and harassment, and frankly my name isn't even Greg, it's Richard Irelo Samuel Bighe. Leave-me-be"

Herme threw her head to the side, betrayal etched into every line on her face. "Greg... you're too cruel," she said with a whimper before rushing out of the store, sobbing as tears streamed down her face. She ran and ran, and when she was out of eye shot of the tv store instantly turned off the water works, and began chuckling to herself almost menacingly.

Herme stopped running as soon as she came to a chain link fence, standing eight feet high and blocking her pathway into the alley, it would deter the average person. However, she wasn't average. She grabbed the fence, pushed off the ground with her feet, bending her wrists at an impossible angle, she flung her legs up and vaulted backwards over the fence, landing smoothly on the other side. She looked back at the fence and noticed that the metal had begun to dissolve here she'd placed her hands. "A chain link fence not made of iron? When did this become a thing?" She said, twisting her head sideways, staring at it with a puzzled expression. She pulled out Richards phone and did a quick search on the internet. "Huh, so they started using aluminum for fences in some places in New York? Weird."

[User]
Alessandra Guillory
"So, we will come back tomorrow and finish up our chapter on Islamic civilization. Please read though the rest of chapter 11 by next class period." Professor Juliano told the class as each student lazily made their way to the door. Alessa followed suit, until a gruff noise found its way between the grunts and muttered thoughts of her fellow classmates. "Alessandra, could I have a word with you?"

Alessa cringed and turned her body back to her professor, the bald, middle aged man before her. Professor Juliano stood with proper, tight posture as usual. His attire was nothing special, a sweater, khaki slacks and leather shoes, his reddish face not looking angry as she expected, but rather taunting.

"I take it that the classroom is no longer the exciting world it used to be for you, Miss Guillory"

Alessa stammered out, "oh, no Professor Juliano...and buy no I mean "no, I love it just as much as usual"! Like, if we were speaking French I would say Si" Idiot! That mouthful was not uncommon for Alessa to blurt out. It was as if all that time in the world of books had made her forget how to talk to other humans.

Professor Juliano chuckled a bit, "Don't worry, Alessandra, I know the classroom is becoming a bore for you." The man reaching back for the papers on his podium. "You are a fine student, and I belive something out of the ordinary is just what you need to help stimulate your mind."

Professor Juliano handed Alessa the papers. They detailed a dig site sponsered by the University, unearthing fossils out in a mountain range.

"The school asked me to pick a student to do some hands on work and contribute to the project. You were my first pick." The professor explained, "It's out in North Carolina, near a place called Dark Ridge. You'd be leaving ASAP, with full exemption from all classes"

Alessa wasn't sure how to feel about this; being dropped off in the middle of nowhere, far from home on such short notice. But, that was the archaeologist experience. "I...I guess I will go. It's a great honor that you've chosen me for this project, Proffessor Juliano." The professor nodded, explaining that Alessa should get ready, she would be taking the next flight out to North Carolina the following morning.

[Assistant]
The call finished with an almost forgotten little detail, there was an archaeological dig being conducted in some nearby caves by... the senator couldn't recall which school was doing the dig and had forgotten to write it down. Sarah raised and admonishing eyebrow at Tecumseh, knowing that he'd forgotten to do exactly that no less than fifteen times since she started working for him two weeks ago. And he'd probably forget the dig too if she wasn't careful to remind him later; so she added it to the week's to do list. Tecumseh ignored Sarah's raised eyebrow and thanked the senator for the heads up and wished him luck on the floor in the coming session. The Senator hung up shortly there after and Tecumseh drained the last of his coffee before asking Sarah what she thought of the call.

 "Well, how do you think the call went?"

 "I think it went as well as it could have. You and the senator are on pretty good terms and you aren't asking him to do anything that isn't already in his best interests to do. He should have no problems supporting your case before the senate and might even burn a few favors to get the vote swung in his favor. I wonder what they'll find in those caves."

 "Mold, mildew, guano, bugs... what? You asked, I answered. You don't like stupid answers don't ask stupid questions. Besides, I'm sure you'll find out exactly what they are looking for while you're down there handing out pamphlets and doing some personal advertising for the Dark Ridge Resort. We can do that later this week, maybe we'll even get the team to move it's lodgings up to the resort."

Sarah sighed, another day wasted trying to garner customers from people who couldn't possibly afford the resort, but she was just the intern, what did she know? It hadn't occurred to her that her boss might have other reasons to keep an eye on the new arrivals. And if he had his way about it, she never would. Tecumseh began the next task, a necessary task, though often less pleasant than keeping up with the legalities of running a resort. This morning he was scheduled to mingle with the guests and host a casual brunch for the VIP members, before they went out and played golf or, less frequently, hiked the clearly marked trails. The ridge had several nice views to offer, and some of them could only be reached by hiking half an hour or more from the resort. Hiking off the trails was highly discouraged for "insurance" reasons. Insurance was part of it, but mostly Tecumseh didn't want people wandering around with out his knowing their general whereabouts. Tecumseh sighed, as he stepped out of the office building and walked over towards the main building's lobby where he could see several patrons waiting for him and already vying with each other for a chance to speak with him about this problem or that problem. Tecumseh briefly wished that he could watch these rich sobs walk the Trail of Tears, as his ancestors had been forced too, but he pushed the thought out of his mind as it would do nothing for him or his ancestors.


[System]
Age: 777
Gender: Androgynous (often answers to male pronouns)
Breed: Retired Celestial ('Nephilim')

Physical Description: (Because I can never get pictures to work right >.< )
Parael stands just shy of 6 feet tall, near 130lbs, with long golden hair grown down to his shoulders, often done up in a ponytail. When working at his center he's dressed in ragged jeans and a clean vest with a diaper bag over his shoulder. On the streets he often wears a button up vest, while channeling his powers can reveal ethereal wings that no longer physically exist.

Talents:
Parael lost most of his Celestial powers after he retired and became Nephilim, but he has picked up a few skills here and there since becoming half human...

- Divine Light: Normally deadly and natural to a full Celestial, Parael was taught to channel Divine power through his human hands roughly 500 years ago. Through human conjuring, this power is little more than a bright and hot flare.

- Glamour: By necessity, Parael has learned to harness human illusion powers to maintain glamours around himself and his place of business, disguising himself against mortal eyes.

History:
Parael doesn't like to discuss his history from before his retirement to the human world ("I abhor getting involved with all the human dogma over whose Creator is right. You all need to stop worrying your lovely faces about that and get to the business of living!") But certain individuals believe that he was present shortly after the moment of creation, this revelation coming from nights involving too much alcohol and pillow talk- and as with all such talk, could easily be a fabrication. Whatever precipitated Parael to hang up his wings in the Middle Ages is between Parael and whatever Celestial ordered him around at the time.

After coming down to Earth in the Far East during the Middle Ages and being tutored in human culture by a Chinese dragon, Parael hitch-hiked across the silk road with a Djinni caravan, partied in Europe among the Faerie courts through the Renaissance, sailed across the Atlantic to South America to run with were-jaguars during the Age of Exploration, chillaxed in the Caribbean with wizard cabals through to the 1800s, and finally settled in New Camden during the modern era. It wasn't until settling Camden that he actually began to buy into the tributary system and managed to cultivate a number of relationships with the ruling council of the city ("'Cultivate' is such a cleaned up word, darling! I got around. A lot.")

Celestial blood is a much desired commodity in the magical world, being used for anything from spell components in Elixers of Life to psychotropic drugs for werewolves. His identity as a Celestial would be impossible to conceal forever, so Parael worked out a deal with the city's vampire leader Caradoc de Lacy to provide a certain tithe of blood every month, allowing the vampire to store and imbibe it whenever he liked- negating the deadliness of sunlight to the city's leader for a few hours at a time. Being able to surprise his foes at high noon while they plotted against him was a boon the vampire couldn't afford to pass up. Caradoc, meanwhile, protected Parael's identity as a Celestial from the general supernatural population, eliminating anyone who got too close to the truth of how he could move about during daylight hours.

This protection became doubly handy when, in the Moral Panic of the 1980s, the human city council tried to shut down Parael's daycare center under the pretense of "protecting children from the homosexual menace." Caradoc stepped up and bullied the council into keeping away, but the Celestial soon found himself in deeper debt to Caradoc for the intercession.

Caradoc's human rival, Baroness Augusta, a wizard with an arsenal of magic at her disposal, lost three magi trying to discern how Caradoc could move about seemingly at random during the day. When she discovered the existence of Parael, the two leaders called a council to discuss his presence in Camden. Parael doesn't know what accord they came to, but the inquiries from the city's wizards did stop.

To the supernatural "public" of Camden, Parael is still an eccentric magi who is good with kids and operates out of a daycare center on the East Side. Parael pays tribute by watching over the children of other paranormals, occasionally enchanting them with glamour to pass under mortal gaze when not in full control of their powers; and most importantly, by his blood tithe to the Prince ("And judging by how Baroness Augusta's wrinkled face is looking, the covens are getting a cut too. Unless that's Botox she's taking and I'm wrong.")

With the arrival of Nemsemet and the eradication of the Count and his court, Parael is feeling the pressure whether to go underground or to step up and fight. Coming out of retirement is not in the cards, as a full Celestial entering battle with Nemsemet may emerge victorious, but the clash could level the city of New Camden and everyone in it. For now his daycare center has turned into nothing less than a fortified bunker with wizards and faeries placing wards all over the grounds to protect their next generation from the wrath of Nemsemet...

Psychological Profile:
Parael is a bubbly, flirtatious individual who is absolutely enthralled with the modern mortal world. The iPhone is a greater wonder than all the stars in the sky ("Except for Orion, that sly stud!"). His identity as an ex-Celestial is a closely guarded secret however, and he is supremely sensitive to anyone bringing up the idea that he could be one.

Possessions:
Parael travels light in his day-to-day work. He always has a slick, designer diaper bag on hand from which he pulls all manner of items including toys, food, spellbooks and extra clothes. Buried beneath the floorboards in his bedroom is a dirty, dented iron longsword which he treats with all the reverence of a Colt .45 when in hand.

He does keep an enormous collection of mementos in his apartment. He still has a silk robe which he picked up from his landing in China, which he often lays about in during his off hours, a set of jeweled earrings from India during his trek across the Silk Road, a silver Fairy Sword he got from the Queen of Spring in a tournament ("I'm not bragging, but it was actually the prize in a beauty contest."), and a collection of Obsidian daggers and war clubs during his time in the South American jungles with the were-panthers ("I've yet to find better steak knives and meat tenderizers!").

Yes, and: Parael Magnus hunkered down right after the appearance of the dread Nemsemet, warding his daycare center to try and hide the fact that he was a Celestial from the enemy and providing a place of safety for anyone else who needed a way to lay low...

[User]
As Rikive settled in the back of the van, she began to feel the first curl of exhaustion take over. She had an obscenely high amount of endurance, but after days of no sleeping, fighting and using her magic so heavily; she was ready to sleep for a few hours. So she did not go after the vampire, she would leave that to the others that had given chased, unless she was needed again.

She ran her hands through her tangled chestnut brown hair, now darken with soot from the fire and ash from slain vampires. Likewise her skin was tinged dark with grime, hiding the flush of her skin except where a few beads of sweat had carved their path down her face. Her clothes were absolutely ruined, but she cared little about them. Though it did reinforce her desire to locate proper armor.

She looked to the door when Parael suddenly jumped into the back of the van, as energetic as ever. As though he had not just died because he'd thrown a tantrum and stormed into the club without a solid strategy. "You," She growled at him, her hands clenching in fists. "Do you understand how incredibly stupid, reckless and dangerous that stunt of your's was!?" She yelled at him, raising her clenched hands slightly as though she was about to beat him for his idoicy.

Instead she lunged at him, not to hit him, but to wrap her arms around him in a tight embrace. "Don't ever do that again." She said into his shoulder, her voice tight. As angry as she was that he had gone and made such a mess of everything, it was nothing compared to the relief she felt that he was still alive.

[Assistant]
Flint began to awake, the ground below him felt like it was shaking and his head was pounding. Oh wait, it was moving, he was in the back of the van, and his head was slamming every so often against the hard metal sides. Groggily, he began to rise from his slumped position. "That's what you get for using your powers too much" He thought to himself as he began to piece together what had happened. He was bellowing flames, then he went to go help Tony. Then… he couldn't remember after that.

 He focused his eyes and noticed Parry, being hugged by Rikive, and remembered what had happened before he had entered the building. It was as if his tiredness had melted away, his mind cleared and he stood up. He felt refreshed and energised as he looked towards parry.

"Hey Parael". He said cheerily, to get his attention. When he turned, Flint's fist crunched hard into the celestials face. Parry would know that they were even now, and so Flint sat back down, removing his large jacket. Sweat stained his white shirt and the shoulder holster was visibly empty. He must have dropped his hand-cannon when he passed out and this made Flint even more infuriated. He unbuttoned his shirt to inspect the bruises and cuts covering his chest and sides. Nothing too damaging, but enough to sting when he inhaled. Flint patted for his whiskey bottle, but remembered he had smashed it onto the floor before unloading his tommy-gun into the club. This just wasn't Flint's day.

[User]
Of all the people in the van who could berate him for what he'd done, Parry found himself flinching more and more with every word Rikive shouted at him. Like a kicked puppy, his smoldering eyes were cast down to the floor of the vehicle, losing their ambient glow until they returned to Parry's natural baby blue color, and even then were positively dejected.

Parry was ready for Tony, Flint, Autumn, everyone to name him a liability and cast him out as a pariah for what he'd done, but losing Rikive's friendship would hurt him the absolute most of all.

So when Rikive squeezed Parry in an almost tackle-hug, he breathed in a sigh of relief and his own breath caught in his throat. So he just hugged her back as hard as he could, one hand patting her own shoulder.

"I'm sorry," Parry said, squeezing hard. "I'm really, really sorry hon. I found some stuff out but it wasn't worth putting you all in danger."

Parry released Rikive just long enough to turn toward Flint, his eyes brightening once again as he saw the perpetually well-dressed-for-a-bygone-era detective wizard.

"Hey Flint!"

CRUNCH!

-------------------------------------

Billy Rikker's feeding frenzy was interrupted by the loudest, shrillest, most ear splitting noise he had ever heard in his century of living.

It reminded him of the shrieking a spoiled toddler would make when denied the flashiest, prettiest, most expensive toy in the toy store and goddammit, she was gonna get that toy if it meant she would have to make a scene that would shame her parents for all eternity.

So while the noise successfully broke the trance the close circle of vampires had been in while lapping the blood from the carpet, their super senses were picking up the sound as nails-on-a-chalkboard centimeters from where they stood. Suddenly his whole surviving clan was on the floor, clawing at their ears to get the noise to stop while up and down the street, car alarms for Mercedes, Lincolns, Bugattis and other half-million dollar vehicles activated their anti-theft mechanisms.

-------------------------------------

Parry was knocked flat on his ass by Flint's punch, his nose once again collapsed. But he could absolutely feel that it was not where it was supposed to be, and Rikive, even if she were so inclined, wouldn't be able to heal him for a while after pulling both Parry and Flint back from the brink in such a short period of time.

Parry had seen toddlers melt down from having scraped knees and other boo-boos. So he was emulating the best as he cried like a baby over his precious nose, the tires of the van squeeling away as they shot off to find Gray and Beth, Parry the Angel, slayer of Demons, protector of the innocent, semi-immortal warrior and self-professed hedonist kicked and screamed, holding his face, and only barely resisted the urge to say 'MOMMY! HE HIT ME!'


[System]
-PILOT-"I'm still alive, and I can still fight. Shouldn't that be all that matters, at this point?"
(obviously not nearly as naked as this)
Gender: Female
Age: 18

Experience: 75% - Average level of experience for a pilot. Can perform basic actions such as running or shooting without fail, and may have the potential for more difficult maneuvers.
Synchronization Rate: 69% - The Framewerk moves and operates fairly naturally, responding well to controls and able to pull off more advanced tactics and actions. This state is the typical average of any Framewerk veteran, representing years of experience - falling here this early would be a gift.

Personality: Lora is unique for having a sort of deadpan confidence, seeming be reserved on the outside but in reality being very empowered and sure of her capability. Of course, she's not headstrong, either, and in fact proves to be rather patient. Off the field, she performs small efforts and tasks in hopes to play a little more than her part. Lora often appears rather blank-faced most of the time, and the most emotion she can be noted showing is largely in combat, as if she has some deep-seated feelings regarding the Cruxi (and boy, does she).

Motivation: Repel the Cruxi and ensure a better future for humanity.

Background:
People who say that Lora went through hell don't realize that good people shouldn't go to hell.

The young Lora grew on a colony somewhat on the farther reaches of human society. Her family was one of the most esteemed on that world, and not because they had luxury. No, it was because they shared their luxury, working to create and distribute new technologies to benefit the colonizing people and ensure what happened to Earth would not so easily repeat itself. Lora was exposed to this and more, and so learned the better qualities of life and what they meant.

To say it all changed when the Cruxi appeared seemed cliche and inaccurate. Within 24 hours, it all disappeared - homes, families and lives alike. A still-young Lora and her younger brother were one of the few that managed to make it, of the single escape ship that managed to survive the ordeal. She wished she could stop crying, that after she cried all her tears, her voice went hoarse, and her heart ached the worst, it would stop. But the pain inside didn't stop.

Lora practically begged to be enlisted in the project to weaponize Framewerks. She wanted so many things, but the only ones she could hope to get were revenge, and hope itself. She would gladly learn to take life if it meant no more had to suffer like she did. She would become stronger, far stronger than she was on that day of defeat, as strong as she needed to be to take down the enemy. And even if she died doing it, Lora was going to bring peace and happiness back to every last human who deserved it.

Notable Deaths: Pretty much anyone she was related to by blood - parents, grandparents, uncles and cousins - all except her younger brother. A couple of her close friends also didn't make it.

Other Things: People think that Lora doesn't show her emotions because she is very scarred inside. While they are partly right, she also represses her emotion to ensure she can remain stable during Framewerk combat. It works for the most part, but there are times where she can get a little loose.
-FRAMEWERK-Code Name: Dynasty

Number of Systems: One Primary, One Secondary

Signature Weapons System:
Dual Blaster Cannons - pretty much exactly as it says on the tin. A single blaster cannon is built to fire concentrated hard-light energy bolts for good stopping power and destructive potential. When one cannon was found to bear weak penetration and a meager firing rate, the issue was mostly circumvented by equipping one for each hand to double the effective output, though this resulted in a significant jump in weight and bulk. In case of emergency, one or both blasters may be discarded to remove such weight, allowing for a more expeditious retreat.

Secondary Weapons System:
A light missile launcher mounted behind the right shoulder. The silo can hold two payloads of six High-Explosive Multi-Purpose missiles, primarily used for defensive means at closer ranges where the blaster cannons would be less feasible to use.

Weight Class: Light-Medium. The intent of the Framewerk as a free-range mobile striker was found to be compromised by the weight of its equipment, and so it was given additional armor and defensive suites to compensate. The base thrusters only just barely allow the Framewerk to hover over ground as a result, and while it does still bear a level of maneuverability other machines may lack, it only does so by a thin margin.

Special Ability: N/A

[User]
One wing down, "Damn," Zim thought as he slammed the frame into the dirt. It wasn't out of commission yet, but at least bought some time to try and deal with what ever else was happening, "I Thought those armored wings would be stronger then that, but it did it's job."

With only a moment to think of his options Zim assessed the situation. Roger was incapacitated by the rose thing, and the lightning dude floating over the water was charging another attack. We got lucky last time and his own team mate got in the line of fire. What were the chances of him targeting Roger and hitting the rose? Pretty slim. In fact, odds where that Black Star was the target. Best bet was to attempt to evade and to try and get Roger free.

Zim turned Black Star now towards the rose. "Alright, can we get another one?" He asked the Framewerk before he once again pushed the machine forward. His attempt now was going to be to try and slice off the vine arm that was holding Rogers 'Werk hostage and starting to burrow through the armor. If the angle was right, he would hope to do more then that and cleave through the main body of the unit. Hopefully freed up, Roger would be able to put his gun to use against the lightning dude floating over the water. Even if he once again completely missed the scythe swing he would put his weight into the attack, attempting to at least knock the dumb thing over. Even if that put all three of them in a pile, Zim hoped that it would buy them a reprisal from the lightning bolt that was soon to come because of the proximity to its compatriot.

[Assistant]
"KYYYAAAAAAAH!" Sigma screamed, the empathic feedback ripping her apart with waves of pain in her leg and torso. She winced, tears welling up again, gasping for air. Her glare focused on the strange mech that had dragged her down. She was going to stab her.

I got too cocky! She panicked slightly, trying to flail to counter the obviously dangerous melee attack. And then before the eyes, the mech was ripped off. Sigma stood there, stunned. Her brain took a moment to process what was happening. She was paralyzed with fear.

The Sköll greeted her. She couldn't even react to the gruesome fate of Delta, she had to get out. As if on cue, her jetpack started. Avoid avoid avoid. Nope nope nope nope. She thought mentally, as she tried to escape to no avail.

A second time she screamed, feeling the monstrous grip on her head as well as the framewerk. Her ears were ringing, barely registering what Irina was saying. But she could remember the taunts. The acceleration. How she was made to look. She was toying with her. Trembling, she flicked her communications once more. Was it the general channel? The team channel? She couldn't think. Too much numbness and pain. She didn't even know what her synch rate was.

"I'm sorry people. Looks like I'm the first victim. I took one down and the artillery is not a problem anymore, but I'm pinned by the Sköll."

She sniffled. Stupid tears were getting in the way.

Is this the end? Am I defective product like Delta, or Alpha? Sigma pondered briefly, still overlooking the battlefield with her demonic companion keeping her as a toy. Will I get cake? Ariin said so.

Ariin. Elora.

Lora, the loud cute girl, Katya, Harold the idiot, the other two guys...

I don't want it to end too soon. I don't want to be a burden to them.

Her hand clenched into a fist, wiping her tears.

Determination.

"I...I have one thing to add." Sigma said, her voice trembling, but soon becoming icy and aloof like when they first met. Her optics focused on the Sköll. There was no way she could take this beast on combat. It was just too fast, too armed, and too skillfully piloted. The only thing she had was heavier armor weighing her down, and a thruster she couldn't...

Wait.

"Don't go gentle into that good night..."Her hand reached for the jetpack core. Crushing it. Making it explode. The shockwave hurt like hell, and Sigma almost passed out.

Please be harmed! Please don't dodge this!Sigma prayed, as she in a last ditch effort unslung her rifle once more with her remaining hand, trying to shoot with her last willpower into the Sköll.

And her consciousness abandoned her.

[User]
Ariin could see it, Irina rising out of the pit the zone over, he dropped to a knee and aimed. That fucking bitch better not hurt her, I'll guy her like a street urchin. He said, he thought of his little sister being held like that no doubt sacred and in pain. He locked his target and waited, he didn't want to hit Sigma but honestly right now it was his best chance to hit her. That's when he heard Sigma over the radio, damn near made him call out to her, his middle sister was the same age as her now.

He watched in shock as Sigma broke free, the explosion was impressive as she tried to shoot the Skroll. Ariin was pissed, hurting, and frankly fed up with this game. He he fired his first volley then second, then third. Six slugs from long range targeted right for the Skroll. If Sigma's explosion hadn't dazed her enough and they all missed, well she would close the distance and then he would probably go next. He didn't care, Irina had hurt one of his team mates he needed Paladin to stand his ground and put this bitch on ice. He spoke on the open channel. "HEY! Irina, pick on someone your own age or are sacred of fighting a real frame!"

He taunted over the radio, swapping to the team channel he spoke to his team mates, his voice was soft as if he already had evaluated that if this failed he was out of the game. "I'm drawing Irina in... If those shot didn't get her I might be able to buy some time with my armor and shield. Work together, help each other... We can't lose, we owe Sigma a win she just gave us a fighting chance." He told them as he got up off a knee and raised his shield, holding his position he scanned for Irina, praying Sigma's sacrifice and his own timed attack might have brought down the monster they were up against, he doubt he defeat Skroll through.

[Assistant]
As Caretaker communicated her intent to help, Lora forced herself to simmer down, seeing as she clearly wasn't going to be making progress by herself in any case. Still, she couldn't help but fume at the hot mess she and the other cadets had been plunged into.

You're being too critical, someone might say, but Lora couldn't help it. This was a young girl who had suffered through the pains of war, who had been forced to grow up when she all too suddenly became the oldest of her family. Thus far, her only foray into adulthood had been the induction to this experimental, intense soldier program. Lora had got it in her mind that it would truly help her- she could save lives, destroy the Cruxi, and return to Mitch ready to take responsibility.

Unfortunately, becoming a soldier had nothing to do with becoming mature and adult-like; the process served to train one to discard their humanity, to abandon emotion and morals when it would benefit the world you fought for. Still, Lora went along blindly, convincing herself that she could well and truly help people with the efforts she would process and execute here.

Some help she was, so far.

Harold was quick enough to rebuff Lora's angry remark of the open comms, his voice returning in a slightly clearer and hopefully private channel. Dynasty's pilot initially gave no response, for she had been doing nothing but waiting to be free from her grave of concrete. With another grunt, Lora laid into the controls with a better synch ratio, and this time got a passable result: the flight burners opened to full throttle, making the Framewerk raise from the rubble stock upright to spread a fine mist of particulate rock.

On the open communication channel came the choked sacrificial words of Sigma as Dynasty prepared to enter the action again, followed soon by Ariin's furious response. Closing that and taking a hold of the private channel Rostosov opened, Lora heard the pilot preparing to let loose with his heavy weaponry, as well as Paladin announcing his intent to draw Irina towards himself. Irina... the ace Framewerk pilot the cadets were expected to face. Lora grit her teeth with the revelation unfolding before her: Eiswolf had just been downed by the superior fighter, leaving her Frame in the company of two of her heavy-class teammates.

Speaking of them...

With another fierce punch into the joysticks, Dynasty leaned forward and let the thrusters carry the machine onward. Renewed vigor and rocket boosters carried the Framewerk out of the dust cloud and gradually accelerating to a heightened cruise speed. Her target: the regalia-clad pearl Framewerk hoisting itself from the ground, armed with sword and shield and ready to pick up where it left off inadvertently. "Paladin, Dynasty is engaging on your left!" Lora bleated over the private line as she almost fell into firing range of the enemy.

Dynasty tilted back in flight, quickly slowing itself to a dull hover as the humanoid machine swung the dual blaster cannons up to bear. Within moments she had acquired the target in her crosshairs (thanks in part to Emperor's sheer size), and without a moment to spare, the cadet pilot systematically pulled the triggers. A bolt of intense energy slammed into the otherwise pristine shell of the royal-themed machine, and then another bolt soon followed. Every second that passed saw three more blasts leave Lora's barrels and enter the enemy frame with the ferocity of a mortar, the recoil nearly pushing Dynasty back were it not for the flight burners.


[System]
Age: 20
Looks: Tall, thin and lanky like a beanpole. Moderate B cup bust and kinda bony hips. She has very prominent collar and cheek bones and thick, curly dark brown hair that goes to almost her shoulders. Likes sundresses and shorts with tank tops and other kinds of summer clothes. Usually wears her eyeliner winged sharp enough to kill a man, but aside from lipstick doesn't bother with much makeup. Usually wears elaborate, dangle earring. Two pieces of jewelry that she is never without are a pendant of a man on a bicycle from her grandfather and a simple, silver spinner ring from her first girlfriend.
Skills: Writing, first aid, and fairly handy with tools.
Important info: Loves anything retro, especially the 50s. Is very friendly, but ironically pretty awkward.
Weapons: Fire axe and cheap, made in China dagger.
Tools: First aid kit, camping basics, a saw, journal and pen, and her ukulele.
Personality: Friendly and loves meeting people, though isn't always the best at conversation. Is quite a hipster in regards to her tastes, but has a sense of humour about it, often making jokes about "her aesthetic." She is also humorous in many other respects, being especially fond of puns. She loves to read and write, starting many stories, but often having trouble finishing them. She is a fan of her occasional quiet time, but is most at ease around one or two good friends. Will try anything once
Bio: She had always been unsure of what the hell governed the universe and as such was notably shocked when the rapture finally did come. She was less shocked that it hadn't taken her. She quickly got her shit together and set out into the world completely unsure of what to do next, but that wasn't anything new.
Theme song: youtube.com/watch?v=6NXnxTNIWkc
Quote: "I have no idea what's going to happen so let's go find out."

[User]
Roxy chuckled and hugged Vagin as well.
"I didn't forget about you, Vaggie." She giggled.

[Assistant] He grinned and hugged both tinier girls and lifted them up, eliciting delighted laughter and squeals from Christa.

[User]
Roxy laughed warmly and sighed happily. The stress of the morning beginning to wear off her.
"Oh my god." She said once more. "I wonder how many others are still out there."

[Assistant]
Christa shrugged and smiled. "I'm going to look for food, ok?"

Vagin's looking for a way to signal a safe way for the woman they contacted.

[User] "I'll come with you!" Roxy said, a bit too eagerly. She cleared her throat. "I mean that it's better not to, ahh, go alone."

[Assistant]
She giggled a little and grabbed her hand, then trotted off.

Vagin has a knowing smile on his face...

[User] Roxy trotted happily alongside Christa, keeping a gentle but firm hold on her hand.

[Assistant] Christa's hunting for the lunch room.

[User] After some quick searching, they found the small breakroom. Now cold coffees sat on the table and someone's unclaimed instant ramen sat in the microwae. Roxy went over and began rooting through the cupboards, finding teabags, instant coffee, a box of granola bars, and a few packets of instant ramen.

[Assistant] Christa quietly searched through a room next to that and found a hidden stash of canned stuff.

[User]
Roxy loaded the lighter food into her bag, and joined Christa in the other room.
"Oh score!" She said. "My dad always used to say tinned food would keep through the apocalypse. Didn't think I'd ever get a chance to find out though." Her tone fell slightly.

[Assistant] She looked at Roxy silently, then smiled and kissed her cheek. "At least he was wise enough to tell you?"

[User]
Roxy smiled again and nodded.
"Yeah. I mean I doubt he saw this coming, but either way, we've got enough food to last us a while here."

[Assistant] She grinned a bit. "Yes." and started carrying things.

[User] "Hopefully the other girl won't be too long." Roxy said, then her eyes widened as though she was remembering something. "Oh. I never got her name."

[Assistant] Christa rose an eyebrow, feeling oddly jealous...

[User]
Roxy continued, starting to get lost in her thoughts.
"I mean I can just ask her wen she gets here, but I feel it was a bit rude. I wonder if she'll have anyone else with her."

[Assistant] Christa's getting irritated and pouted. "I...guess maybe?"

[User]
Roxy snapped herself out of her thoughts and looked at Christa.
"Hey. Hey. What's the matter?"

[Assistant] She blushed a bit. "Um..."

[User]
Roxy raised an eyebrow, waiting patiently.
"Um?" She repeated.

[Assistant] She blushed more. "I'm...jeal...ous?"

[User] "Oh." Roxy said. Then a moment later her cheeks reddened as it really sunk in. "Oohhhh. Oohh." She paused, biting her lip a moment before turning to Christa and kissing her, firmly, square on the lips.

[Assistant] Her eyes went wide and she then happily kissed back.

[User]
Roxy stepped back after a moment, her cheeks thoroughly reddened. She cleared her throat and rubbed her arm.
"I uh, hopefully that will dissuade your, your jealousy."

[Assistant] Christa smiled a little. "Y-yeah..."

[User]
Roxy smiled her awkward lopsided smile and giggled slightly.
"Right. Um. Well. Yeah. Good good." She said. "To be honest I had been hoping that that was the case. Not like the jealousy part specifically but like the other part and stuff." She blushed and cleared her throat. "I'm gonna shut up now."

[Assistant] Christa smirked a bit and nodded. "You don't need to. I like your voice and cute way of talking."

[User] Roxy chuckled and blushed harder. "Hah. Well I'm glad someone thinks my weird awkwardness is cute."

[Assistant] Christa smirked a bit, then blinked when Vagin came in.

[User]
Roxy nodded to Varg and held up some of the food they had found.
"Hey. Check it out. We got some grub. Nothing fresh, but it's fairly hearty."

[Assistant]
He smiled a little and nodded. "Good!" and sat by them on the floor, grinning.

Christa happily nibbled on something.

[User] Roxy sat against Christa, unwrapping one of the granola bars, happy that it was apple cinnamon, her favourite flavour. She was also happy that Christa had actually returned her affections and quietly sung to herself.

[Assistant] Vagin and Christa enjoyed, and Christa started to sing along and harmonize with her.

[User] Roxy took out her ukulele, adding it's soft strums to the tune.

[Assistant] Vagin added his deep baritone to the tune.

[User] As the police station filled with the small choir, Roxy finally felt safe. With the song filling the air and the company filling her heart she completely forgot about the events that had led them there and the stress of the past few days melted away into the fading afternoon light.

[Assistant] That's when a polite knocking was heard at the front entrance. Christa stopped and she looked to Vagin. The two stood and frowned.

[User]
Roxy stopped her strumming abruptly and looked up to the door, her eyes wide and confused. She looked back and forth between Christa and Vagin.
"Um. Do you think it's the lady on the radio?"

[Assistant] The girl frowned more. "I will see. Vagin, stay here with Roxy." and she trotted off before he or Roxy could protest.

[User] Roxy watched tentatively as Christa went for the door, tensed and ready to do something. What, she din't know, but something.

[Assistant]
Christa took down the stuff and opened the door. "Hello?"

It was a woman. She grinned with relief. "You must be one of the people with that girl on the radio."

[User]
Roxy visibly relaxed, sighing in relief. She stood and approached the door, smiling.
"Hey." She said, extending her hand. "I'm Roxy. I'm the one on the radio."

[Assistant] The woman grinned again. "I'm Aria, Aria Blake." and shook Roxy's hand.

[User]
Roxy smiled and waved her in, nervously checking the city skyline before closing the door.
"You uh, you didn't have any trouble getting over here, did you?" She asked.

[Assistant]
She nodded. "There were some creatures, but I managed to lose them."
~
Christa tilted her head to the side and she and Vagin put the barricade back up.

[User]
Roxy nodded, but her face didn't agree with her gesture. She swore under her breath and ran a hand through her hair.
"Did you... do you know what they are?" She asked, almost dreading the answer.

[Assistant] She sighed. "Demons."

[User] "Hah." She said, not really laughing so much as saying the word. She paced around the room, a hand on her head. "Right. Okay." She muttered to herself, leaning against the wall and sliding down onto the floor. She sighed heavily.

[Assistant] Vagin and Christa took seats beside Roxy, on either side, and Aria crouched in front of her, all three trying to comfort her.

[User] Roxy looked up to them and smiled, but not with her eyes. She took Christa's hand and held it tightly, she breathed deeply, attempting to calm herself.

[Assistant] Christa nuzzled her softly, getting as close as she could as Vagin tried to sooth her with words.

[User]
Roxy leaned into Christa until her breathing settled. She rubbed her eyes and face.
"Sorry." She said.

[Assistant]
She shook her head. "It's ok. I'm sure you'll be fine and we will live through this."

Aria blinked, surprised at how close the two were.

[User]
Roxy nodded to Christa before looking to Aria.
"Sorry." She said again. "Things have been pretty wild around here. As I'm sure you know."

[Assistant] Aria nodded and smiled a little. "It's cool. So...what's the plan?"

[User]
Roxy paused a moment and shook her head.
"I don't know." She said. "I don't know.

[Assistant] Christa frowned softly and closed her eyes. "I think...we need to find a special weapon."

[User]
Roxy looked up to her.
"You mean like a silver blade or holy water in a super soaker?"

[Assistant] She nodded a little, smiling and amused.

[User]
Roxy nodded.
"Where would we even find something like that?" She wondered aloud. "The museum maybe?"

[Assistant] Christa frowned, looking down a bit. "Hm."

[User]
Roxy pondered a moment before looking up to the group.
"We should go to the library. Do some research. Know what we're up against."

[Assistant]
Christa looked at her and nodded, standing.

Vagin carefully got up and helped the other two ladies to their feet.

[User] Roxy stood with them, pulling her pack over her shoulder, now laden with the extra food. She wasn't as good with a gun as Christa or Vagin, and she didn't know what kind of talents the new girl could bring to the table, but Roxy was determined to pull her weight.

[Assistant]
Christa smiled a little and nodded before trotting off ahead.

The new girl, Aria, tried to help out by shouldering her cane-sword.

Vagin grinned a relaxed one and made sure to stay close.

[User] Roxy followed along just behind Roxy, letting Vagin and Aria take the rear. She tried to keep an eye out for anything, but she found her mind kept wandering back to her and Christa's kiss. She hadn't really known what had come over her in that moment, not the sudden kissing part, but more the fact that it had been her to initiate it and not Christa. She really didn't think she had it in her and her own actions had even caught her off guard.