Exasperation tinged Nova's voice, all but disembodied, from the patch of shadows by the treeline. "Look, darlin'," she drawled at Blades. "I'm like ninety-nine percent sure that every one of us here knows how to use our powers better than<i>you</i>know how to use our powers. We don't need pointers from dumb heifers who are angling to win Bloody Mary's tiara at next year's Miss Sand-Filled Gash pageant. Nobody died and left you in charge, so pipe the fuck down."<br/><br/>For a moment, as Chiara began lighting up the clearing, Nova's gloom seemed to diminish and retreat. But shadows are stubborn things, and under the mutant's control they once again strengthened and deepened until reaching a kind of equilibrium with the nun's conjured brilliance. "Now, as I was saying. I<i>suggest</i>we break up into three or four groups rather than all stand around camp like easy-to-surround morons. Blades wants Chiara and Sword-Boy whose handle I can't pronounce on her crew; that's up to them -- and by the way, thanks, Sister, for remembering that I sunburn easily, though if push comes to shove I'd rather be cooked medium-well than dead.<i>I</i>am going to be over here, trying to keep this little corner of the world dark and quiet and Dusk-free, and I'd love for a few other people, who are interested in<i>talking</i>about how we might work together, as opposed to barking orders, to join me." Her ghost-lit eyes swept quickly over her fellow trainees. "Curseshot, how about you? Cryo? Full Metal, maybe?"<div class="messageTextEndMarker"> </div>