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    Alistair smiled, tight-lipped, at Abby's comment about dog-speak. [alistair]That's cool. I only speak whale.[/alistair] he deadpanned, though there was something of a wince behind his words - the strain of displacing all that rubble that was trying to fall on their heads was nothing to shrug off lightly. But he was no young or inexperienced magus anymore... he could withstand that drain and draw more power in as they went. Assuming they didn't get killed by some as yet unseen boobytrap.

    [alistair]I think this is terrorism 301 - waiting to kill first responders. It's also the sort of thing that makes me have fantasies about cooking the fuckers responsible alive, but I have to keep reminding myself I'm supposed to be the good guy in this situation.[/alistair] he admitted through clenched teeth at the cop's comments. It wasn't something he would normally admit out loud, but she was a cop, and he had to imagine what happened in a dying building would more or less stay there.

    His easygoing nature was being sorely fucking tested. All this death, and for someone's statement, or just because they were psychotic and needed a release. Yeah, he wanted those responsible dead. Not jailed, dead. Oh but he was supposed to be the good guy. White knight, law and order and forgiveness. Maybe if he didn't keep winding up with that white armor charred from burning buildings and smeared with the blood of innocent people killed by others.

    Okay. So mass murder put him in a dark mood. Maybe that wasn't so goddamn unhealthy after all.

    [alistair]I think that's the gist of it, yeah. Go ahead. I'll keep making with the magic, officer.[/alistair]

    The areas up ahead were some of the worst. Alistair had to play a finer game with the air than he normally did, depriving some areas of it to quench the flames as they moved, adding more to balance the pressure bubble and keep the smoke out. His ears popped from that same pressure, but it was a necessary discomfort. And he couldn't keep out the heat for long - it was going to transfer one way or another, if they didn't get the hell out quickly. He stopped twice, motioning to Abby to help him with a few pieces of rubble that blocked an exit door, giving another small group time to get out. And he looked to the ghost again... and he was sure he felt the pulse of magic this time.

    [alistair]Hang on a second.[/alistair] He stepped to the side of the collapsing hall, testing a door just a moment, then he shook his head and slammed a hand against it, again a flash of arc destroying the lock before he pulled it open. And there was Ardal... and a kid. Not enough O2 tank to go around, either. For Alistair's part, he didn't hesitate.

    [alistair]Come on. The way back is clearer this way.[/alistair] He paused then, lifting his hand... the metal magus outside was calling. And it was NOT good.

    [alistair]Okay. Rescue time is out - we are getting the hell out of this building, the structure is going down. My guy can't hold it anymore, move it![/alistair] He'd have a talk with Ardal later. Or not. Right now, fuck it - bigger problems. He'd just take time to make sure they were all going before he went himself - if the little girl couldn't keep up, he'd carry her. He still had some juice left, anyway.

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    Ghost would park, hearing the pleading cries behind blocked entrances before Alistair motioned to the larger pieces of rubble. It was hotter upstairs, but Abby cared little about her personal state. She was grateful for Alistair's presence however, and nodded to assist in any way she could. Ghost would perform his namesake - he'd ghost through, gather everyone together by the time the doors were unblocked. 

     

    At his admission, Abby's glance went his way for only a second before she had to sweep the scene. For every door they unblocked, Abby had to make sure that it was really clear. Apparently nothing was left behind - just victims, living or dead. She kept the sigh to herself. Every day was already a test. Being human was a test, and she was sure that being a human of Alistair's capabilities was just as stressful if not more. 

     

    "To not give into those desires is always the test, Alistair." Abby said with a grunt. One of the doors had been resistant at first, but a hard nudge with her shoulder sent it opening and allowed Ghost to draw out the survivors. "And to preserve what's left of how things were." The law could use some modifications for this new world. Even before the resonance, the justice system was questioned, but even Abby could see the consequences. 

     

    "Let's do what we can before things go kaput." She said. 

     

    "Hello? You, down there?"

     

    She leaned slightly over the railing and glanced up to the sight of a harness lowering a woman down. She slid her gun quickly back into its holster and reached out. "That's it, I'm here for ya." The woman was covered in soot like the others, but the excessive smoke was making her faint. Abby provided herself as a crutch for the woman to lean against as Ghost softly whined. As much as she wanted him to venture onward, the amount of carbon monoxide was going to affect him too - transparent or not. "I need you to stay with us, Ghost." She murmured before looking back up to the mysterious savior. 

     

    "You need to get out as soon as you can. There's a rescue team out front doing the same. This building's not going to hold any longer!" She had reiterated the warning, wishing that she could do more, but she had to do what was necessary. Leave it to the rest to decide. Fate, whatever, whomever, but her faith was on the rescue team, on the others who had done what they did. Those who'd reacted without hesitation to help, whether or not it had been their intention in the first place. It was what counted, and it gave Abby a little more hope. 

     

    "Just lean against me," she said to the woman and they were out, a ragtag of survivors. Ghost, being quite huge for a husky, would assist the little girl at once. Her small hands dug into his fur, but even he understood that humans could only push so much until they collapsed. "Ghost could carry her," she said to the guys, "and he'll be able to get her out faster." The child needed out as soon as possible, and Ghost could accomodate her size and pull her through the wall with him. 
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    As she started to work on the person in front of her she moved her eyes to the side, seeing the other works being busy taking people's names and any other important information that would probably be used to either be found by loved ones or to keep track of the people who more than likely would be lost in the rubble. She had finished dressing the patients wounds when a woman spoke to her. She turned her head to the woman and gave a quick smile and welcoming nod. [altheia]Nice to meet you, Nailah,[/altheia] she paused for a second and spoke again before Nailah left, [altheia]Be safe out there![/altheia] She watched the woman leave and then turned back to her work, moving to the next bed where another person was laying, seeing that they had a broken leg. 

     

    Another woman whom she hadn't met yet had made her way to the triage are. Her hands had been on the leg of the woman laying on the bed, trying to heal her as fast as possible to get to the next person. Broken bones usually took her a few minutes to heal, but somehow she had surprised herself and managed to do so in record time, or at least to her it had been. Maybe she was gaining more control of her abilities, honing them through practice. That was a good thing for sure, but a dangerous one as well. She also sent a nod to Roye, letting the woman know that she heard and understood. Altheia was glad that she had been able to get here to help people. No doubt that it would probably drain her by the end of the day, but it would all be worth it. If it meant that she saved lives.

     

    Altheia had been lucky to get a minute or two to clean up her hands and take a very short breather before another woman brought in another person from the wreckage. She moved over to them both, listened to the woman explain what injury the woman had. Altheia gave a quick nod to the woman and then turned to her patient, placing her hands yet again over the wound. A moment later the person was healed and Altheia moved over to a chair to take another quick break. It took everything in here to not run out of the make shift hospital as she heard more explosions and people shouting outside. Her nerves were frayed and she felt like she just rain 10 miles. The day however was not done and she needed to suck it up. People needed help and she needed to be there for them.

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    • 2 weeks later...

    ((ooc: Got a little lost in all things.  Apparently everyone is saving women! XD  Let me know if I missed something and need to change things pretty please!))

     

    Ardal was grateful for the oxygen courtesy of Alistair.  Trying to maintain everything was really straining him alone with holding the woman's soul to her.  He nodded his thanks wordlessly, following and relying on others more to help him get out while keeping his focus on the little girl's mother.  There was enough orphans in the world, there did not need to be another.

     

    He ground his teeth, doing his best to keep his feet as they moved.  He could only thank God that he managed though his leg was screaming at him by the time they cleared the building.  His entire body actually was screaming at him and he knew why.  He'd slowly lost all color in his face and he could feel blood running from multiple points as old wounds opened under the magical strain he was putting himself through.  He couldn't maintain the spell much longer but if he let it go the mother was dead.

     

    If he kept pushing though he would be dead.

     

    "Get...a...healer..." he managed to choke out before he had to turn his head and cough.  It was not surprising to him to see blood flying from it.  Someone tried to pull the woman from him but he shook his head and gripped harder.  "If I let go she's dead... The body won't hold her."

     

    He did not have the ability to explain what he was doing and could only hope one of the damn magus around here caught what he was doing.  It was not like there was many that understood how necromancy worked exactly but it could not have been that difficult to take what words he got out and put that together with his white knuckle death grip and the magic he was using.  If not that he was slowly getting covered in wounds and his own blood.

     

    His leg gave out then, causing Ardal to stumble and almost lose his hold on the mother.  The pain was a lance through him and he clamped his teeth together, hissing the spell's incantation between his teeth to try and maintain focus like most magus were first taught.  

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    Nailah was glad she'd chosen red, not that she really ever chose anything else. Red was her power color, and among the Magus you didn't discount anything that made you feel stronger, no matter how silly it might be. Still ,red helped hide the blood that inevitably got on her as she helped to patch up the wounded so they could be transported to people with a little bit more medical expertise then she had. She was originally taught to be a battle mage, her skills and spells were honed for just that, she had nothing that could heal these people. "Put pressure on that, do not let up." She told a man as she guided his hand over the bandage she'd put on the wound in his thigh. "Move slow, get him to the med tent. I don't think it nicked anything vital but he could still bleed out if the pressure lets up." She addressed the young woman at his side, both of them were pretty banged up but his wound was the one that could be life threatening if left unattended. Nailah had a natural leadership quality to her, and the woman nodded in understanding as she put her boyfriend's arm around her shoulders. Nai knew she had to be exhausted and scared but somehow she found the strength to keep going.

     

    She watched them walk away before closing the med kit and standing up, rubbing the back of her hand across her forehead so she wouldn't get blood on her face. "Hell of a first day back." She muttered to herself. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Alistair and a few others emerge from the wreckage of the building. She was glad to see him alive, glad to see he hadn't gotten himself squished. When she got close she could feel the amount of Mana the man with them was using and she turned her focus on him. There was a reason Nailah had been an Arch Magi with the Order, and very briefly a High Arch...she was damn powerful. She had been a figurehead for the Order, practically a celebrity though more like a politician and less like a movie star. The Mana she sensed in this man was dark, kin to her own. The Abyssal tattoos that ran along the surface of her skin wavered in response.

     

    "You're going to kill yourself if you hold on much longer like that. Borrow strength from me." She offered to him, holding out her hand, the one covered in less blood. She didn't know this man but in this situation it didn't really matter. If Ardal recognized her at all she wouldn't have been surprised. Both of their talents were dark, deadly. Nailah walked the fine line each and every day, hell...she danced on it. Mana sharing was an intimate experience but if he didn't allow her to help he could very well die. Still, it was his decision and she would not force it on him. As he stumbled, Nailah leapt forward, wrapping an arm around him as she braced him, helping to hold him and the woman up. "Don't worry, I can handle it." She told him with a soft smile.

     

    Gone were the days of Nailah, the big bad and scary. She was free to be herself now, free to do as she wanted without a council of cranky old men breathing down her neck. If she wanted to be nice and helpful she damn well could be.

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    Alistair snorted slightly at her reply to his... somewhat dark comment from earlier. [alistair]Sorry. It's just that I'm usually on the giving end of those speeches. Not to worry, I'm sure I'll manage. Don't put much stock in the 'how things were' business, though. That ship, I'm afraid, has sailed.[/alistair]

    Ardal was clearly faltering, and Alistair grit his teeth slightly, putting an arm around the man to help support him. The trip out was quicker, thankfully... the responders seemed to have gotten the idea, and even the air bubble Alistair brought with them was starting to waver. The heat was making it increasingly difficult to stop convection tearing it apart... definitely, at this point, time to go.

    They were waved out and hurried along by firemen, who helped collect the last few that accompanied them, but for the woman Ardal refused to release. At his words, Alistair finally got what the man had been using that mana he was drawing on for... son of a bitch. [alistair]Davi![/alistair] he called out as they emerged from the flickering light, the shimmer of his maintained shield finally vanishing altogether and allowing a brief swirl of smoke following in his wake as it rushed into the now-unoccupied space. It was Altheia's shortened codename, after all... last thing he needed was someone getting to one of their few actual healers. Those, in ARMA as in the Order, were always in too-short supply. Even having her out here was a risk he didn't like, but... well there was no place else for her. Not on a day like this.

    They had only just made it to the staging area, so many trying to deal not just with the injured from the building, but those who had been hurt if not outright killed by the shrapnel attacks that had come secondary... the firemen and the police didn't have the advantage of magic that the handful of magi did.

    The iron magus stumbled out from around the side of the building, making it to Alistair and the others before he fell to a knee. [npc]Sorry... boss.[/npc] Alistair helped Ardal down to a spot, lest he just collapse there, and looked to the man.

    [alistair]You did good. Place would have fallen on another dozen or more without you. Recover - going to need you later.[/alistair] He caught Nailah then moving to help, and managed a grin - it didn't come anywhere near his eyes. [alistair]Welcome back indeed.[/alistair] With Ardal and the others outside, he turned, looking for the police captain, fire chief... someone still on their feet. The initial rush might have been over. Now they needed a proper game plan.

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    She’d stopped counting.  Men, women, children.  Uniformed, street clothes, some in bathrobes.  The damage was unfathomable.  From what she could tell, few of those within had made it to the street.  Those on the street were in terrible condition, the heaviest hit seeming to be the police who had arrived first.  The sight of insides on the outsides had started to blur together-helping what was left of a skeleton crew EMT regroup and move forward.  Lights on, all the vehicles… a beacon through the smoke and gritty haze to anyone that could move on their own power.  Organizing patients into the make-shift triage and moving people where they told her was consuming every ticking second. Muscles were beginning to quiver from the exertion, training was one thing… continuously dead-lifting people that couldn’t move on their own was completely another.

     

    Phone kept ringing, the stupid thing was pinched between her ear and shoulder as she moved, barking orders into the damn contraption more than she had probably even spoken through one in her life.  Reflexes so sharp she moved amongst the first responders like a whisper back into the streets to find more; finding herself jogging out only to drag someone back.  Jesse, was handling everything as best he could. The second explosion had contacts across the city calling him once they heard of the network, falling into a position far beyond anything she’d ever imagined. Every favor cashed in.  Organizing the wayward, good god… responsible far beyond her normal reach.  A network created she never thought she could muster.  It was uncomfortable, but it was necessary; there was no time to second guess any decision, and even less to worry about what she’d come down originally for.  The least injured were getting out, the critically injured were getting treated and transported to makeshift hospitals at the community centers, the separated parties shipped off to reunite or wait for word at the shelters.  Supplies disseminated and heading to the needed facilities… phone clicked shut and was shoved into her jacket pocket as she went out again, a wary eye on the building waiting for anyone to emerge.

     

    Smoke burned at her lungs, kneeling to check the pulse of a college aged kid, nothing.  Brows frowned, putting both elbow crooks under his arms and dragging him off the street to the triage, shaking her head once as she passed him off.  The rumble beneath her feet brought an instant snap of anxiety toward the building that was finally beginning to collapse in on itself…

     

    Phone rang again.

     

    DAMMIT

     

    “Yah,”  voice quick, eyes locked on the dust billowing from the implosion- forcing the urge to rush forward back into her gut, attention snapping toward a flicker of light and a voice she knew.  She’d never been so happy to see that damn duster coat in her life.

     

    Jesus H. Roosevelt Christ.

     

    Muscles were shivering, cold and exertion.  She instantly sunk to a knee to rest a moment, elbow on it, palm on her forehead, swallowing the constriction that had curled there from panic before rising straight back onto her feet.  Work to do.  Appreciation later.  Jesse on the other end…

     

    *npc* “Never fear… Brooklyn’s here.”

     

    Heel of her hand held to her forehead as a slight quirk of a smile erupted; at the reference, and the fact a particular dealer that wasn’t especially fond of her -she undercut his suppliers... business after all- had chipped in to help.  He had a LOT of medical supplies to offer. Some legal, some not so much...

     

    “We need them here,” she quipped as she strode toward the nerve center, ponytail swinging like an angry teenager.  A battered but still working NYPD vehicle where she had been relaying information to was being manned by what she could assume was the one left in charge.  The sergeant barking orders was still bleeding from the temple, salt and pepper over his right ear turning pink as the cold air worked on freezing it.

     

    She finished up her conversation with Jesse.  “Anything else he has send to the community centers, tell him I owe him.”

     

    Phone snapped shut again, “They’re full through Hells to seventh, start sending east.  We have medical supplies coming straight here, they’re fifteen to twenty minutes out.  Triage is up.  We need more doctors,” her head shook.  “There’s more lying in the Level 1 than next to the patients.”

     

    He nodded, radio in his left hand at his ear as he was listening to it and her at the same time.  The blue and red lights flickered in the gold of his badge as he snapped something off his belt and handed it to her- turning it to channel five.  Nodding toward it, he opened his own channel to respond to the first conversation.  Crossed wires at the other explosion location.  His brows snapped down at her, nodding at the radio.

     

    She swallowed, hesitating… she didn’t take care of others, she took care of her own.  Hat was in the ring, no turning back now.  Pressing the release with her thumb, she cleared her throat and spoke clearly, blinking at her voice going through the radio in his car and who knows where the hell else.

     

    “All centers and shelters from Hell’s to seventh are full.  Send east of seventh.  Medical supplies on route to make-shift triage, ETA is fifteen to twenty.”

     

    Thumb let go and she handed it back, he was still talking over his, and he shook his head…  mouthing- ‘keep it’.

     

    Brows flickered down at the invitation into the circus, her frown deep, but she nodded and clipped it to the back of her waistband and disappeared back into the smoke.

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    How long had Mana been there--on her back, half conscious?  It seemed like hours . . . days.  Someone had stopped the bleeding and the shock symptoms had passed.  Mana was alert (sort of) . . . her mind thinking.  The woman who had used her own blouse to bandage her wounds was either gone or Mana was lost in some kind of fog and not seeing her.  

     

    One thing did strike her: her clutch?  Where was it?  Everything she owned, all her money (little as it was) was in that clutch.  Mana, still flat on her back, and shivering, looked left and right, searching for her clutch, but she did not see it.  

     

    She did see a lot though.  Lots of stuff everywhere, and not only rubble, but things like wigs, boxes of condoms, a cat scratch post, a whip with a set of handcuffs, an aquarium with a large snake curled in the corner that was not broken, something that looked like a fake pregnant woman's stomach,  briefcases, and yes, purses, all were scattered about.  

     

    Mana rolled painfully to her stomach and as rescuers were scurrying about helping people, Mana was crawling to scavenge through bags,, and more importantly purses, cases, and things that looked valuable.   

     

    Mana saw a woman with extremely long, thick black hair and heard her say "Don't worry, I can handle it." Mana pushed herself around the woman, now dragging three purses, one quite heavy and a medical kit.  Mana had no idea why she was pilfering the medical kit but it seemed practical and some part of her brain probably knew she might need it for herself.  

     

    Would there be anything of value in those purses?  Mana wanted to crawl out of sight so she could rummage through them . . . she felt vaguely criminal dragging all those purses behind her as she pushed her body on hands and knees behind what had once been a bus stop shelter.  

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    Dammit where was that blasted healer?  The brief look of realization had crossed Alistair's face at least, thank God the leader of ARMA was as smart as Ardal had thought.  The two had never had much of a conversation but reputations went a long way with Ardal.  That was likely why he had to do a double take when the lady with the tattoos came over.  He recognized her but her name escaped him at the moment.  To be fair he was in the middle of maintaining a complex mess of a spell while slowly killing himself but for Ardal that was no reason to be rude...specially to a lady.

     

    Her offer of help though had him struggling not to scowl.  He would have argued but he was past the point of being able to hold a debate verbally and quickly running out of strength.  Ardal hated split second decisions, he could make them but he was a cautious sort and never liked them.

     

    His mind was screaming that this was a terrible idea.  He knew the theories and had read experiment notes behind sharing mana but practice was another thing.  He himself had never done it.  He relied mainly on the death in an area, or himself, and was concerned that pulling from another person would hurt them.  After all when he pulled from himself he usually ended up bleeding.

     

    Just the thought of remotely being like his father, endlessly gobbling up all the life and mana he could get a hold of, had Ardal wanting to vomit.

     

    It was completely against his better judgement and frankly a number of personal barriers he maintained for good reason, but he would have been remiss if he did not accept the help in saving a life.

     

    "Apologies...this hurts," he managed to get out a moment before catching the tattooed woman's hand, his other tightening on the almost dead victim of this horrific attack.

     

    He was almost dizzy from the immediate relief on himself.  The majority of the spell was powered by the released power of the dead, old and new, in the immediate vicinity.  That was a constant that held the soul of the dying, like a net.  Ardal's...and now Nailah's power was used to effect pull back and hold the soul in place to give time for healers to work.  It always reminded the necromancer of fishing in a way.

     

    But the cards were always stacked against them.  Death was a natural process and pushing against nature always took large amounts of energy.  Ardal did his best to take the brunt of the requirement, to keep the cost to himself, even as he reached and pulled it from Nailah with quick, clumsy, and greedy grabs.  He forced himself not to think about things, it would interfere with the spell.

     

    He could be horrified with himself later and count the costs then.

     

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    Guest Saranna Weaver

    Saranna stopped for a moment when the female she was assisting had asked about a woman named Sarah Conner?   Who the fuck was that?   A more than slightly confused look over moved over her face as she bent down to help the female out.   [saranna]Afraid this Sarah Conner is not known[/saranna]  She stated in a very matter of fact way as she took a sizable piece of rubble and simply threw it away like it weighed little more than a pebble.

     

    Once the lady was stabilized enough that was she was sure that she wouldn’t bleed out in a few moments, she assisted her in standing up.   [saranna]Medical center is approximately 300 yards north on this street.[/saranna] She gentley spun the woman around towards the correct direction.   [saranna]Am going to do a quick search then will find you after[/saranna] With that said, Saranna turned and started heading away from the woman, deeper into the chaos

     

    She didn’t look for very long, she really wasn’t finding anything….or really anyone, so instead she turned back around to go and find that woman that she had sent along, only to find her dragging several heavy purses.  It would be an understatement to state that Saranna was a little more than disappointed in the woman, who was snuck up on.  [saranna]Did not save you to steal.[/saranna]  Her voice clearly conveying the barely contained anger she now held for this woman.

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    Mana was already feeling bad enough as it was.  Then she heard, ☩"Did not save you to steal." 

     

    But honestly, her life had simply gone from bad to horrible to unbearable.  She knew that to think the kinds of thoughts she was thinking would not make her popular with her feminist friends or with a whole lot of others as well, but she needed someone to take care of her.  Her standards no longer were very high either.  She might have settled for a mangy dog if it had a nice home and some cans of dog food.  

     

    No, she was not in a rush to get into another abusive relationship, but really, she was so ill-equipped to survive in this world.   

     

    So, how low could she descend?  Getting caught stealing dead or dying women's purses and clutches had to be pretty close to the nadir--and by the very woman who had saved her.  

     

    Mana's facial expression was somewhere between a Woody Allen pathetic shrug and a Carol Burnett grimace.  She desperately wanted to explain that she had nothing--nothing to live on, no way to survive, but doubted the woman was in a good enough mood to be sympathetic.  Grovelling, Mana said, "Sorry."  

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    This was not the cool, peaceful confines of a morgue. It was a place of explosions and flame that mingled with the screams of the dying, and Keeley had stayed here — willingly. She'd been close enough to have her car damaged by parts of the building falling onto the hood, but luckily her injuries were minor and obtained once out of the vehicle. Departing would've been the wiser choice, as most people were running away, except to her it'd have also been the selfish one. She could have gotten out her car, tucked tail, and ran to the safety of her job; only dealing with the flood of bodies that'd poor in during the aftermath. Nobody else would have known or judged, because there were so few people in her life to do so. However, she'd have judged herself. . . and there was enough guilt on her plate. Instead she'd wrapped a scarf around the lower portion of her face, pulled her cloche down a little further to shield her eyes, and headed toward the nearest person that needed assistance. That was how she got her superficial injuries: being out in the chaos and the mess, especially during the second explosion, but that was also how she found herself in one of the set-up triage areas helping out. Her years in medical school would help to some extent with setting, patching, and stitching; at least enough to get those who were more serious into the hands of a magical healer or to a hospital.

     

    Within 10 minutes her jacket had been taken off and put under a bleeding head for a makeshift pillow. By 15 minutes her light gray shirt became a dark red, the shade of dried blood, and the state of her jeans weren't much better. By twenty minutes, when the building started making noises that induced full panic, Keeley was a mess of her former self, but didn't care one whit. At some point she'd pulled her hair back in a messy bun, that had become messier with the passing time, and it showed the bumps and scrapes she'd taken when knocked down by the secondary explosion quite well; there'd be a nice bruise on her cheek, and perhaps a black eye, at some point though she worried about it little for the moment as she used a piece of a person's shirt for a tourniquet. The guy she was helping might well lose his arm, but they'd done all they could for him here. . . There were some healers around, the type that used abilities, but they couldn't help everyone. Nodding in the direction of a man at her side, she murmured, [keeley]That'll have to do. We'll get him into one of the ambulances and hopefully they'll get to him at the hospital before it's too late. . .[/keeley]

     

    The man's reply was lost to her, though from the movement of his head she gathered it was acceptance, as a sharp pain went through her head. Blinking away the spots, Keeley stifled a groan: headache. That was all she needed. Gritting her teeth against the pain, she forced herself to ignore it and accepted a damp cloth to wipe her hands clean of the blood on them as well as could be managed. She had just finished, and slathered some sanitizer on her hands, when the shouts hit her ears. It wasn't the first time someone had cried out for aid nor would it be the last. Yet something about it was forceful in comparison to the others. Taking some of the make-shift supplies and some actual ones, Keeley headed over toward the small group that combined a few recognizable individuals from ARMA, including their Commander, and Abby who she worked with on occasion due to their jobs overlapping. It was the man that she didn't quite know — though something seemed familiar about him — that drew his attention. He didn't look well and was holding on to a woman that was doing far worse.

     

    Moving forward, Keeley tossed a nod to Alistair and then a smile to Abby before turning her attention fully to the injured woman. Hopefully one of the magical healers would come, because something about the state the woman was in did not inspire confidence that she'd survive a trip to the hospital even once bandaged.

     

    [Keeley]What happened to her?[/Keeley] Kneeling next to the woman, she felt a little panic kick against her insides and swallowed against the feeling, [Keeley]I don't know if I can do much for her. . . or if any of us can unless there's someone that can heal around here.[/Keeley]

     

    Keeley could've swore that she'd saw Altheia around here somewhere. The healing magus was a familiar face that she saw often when visiting her son at the HQ. Hopefully the woman wasn't too swamped to come over here. For the time being though she focused on cleaning what injuries she could spot with antiseptic and trying to stem the blood loss. She wished a little that her ability was useful in this situation and hoped that it'd be useful later when investigating this mess.

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    • 2 weeks later...

    Nailah knew the risk she was taking, Ardal wasn't the first Necromancer she'd met, and that risk was doubled since she was still technically on the mend from her own imprisonment some weeks earlier but she also knew how to end the mana sharing before it reached that point. Beginning the Mana sharing meant opening up to the other person, allowing them to see things you might have wanted to keep hidden. As Ardal's hand caught her own, her void tattoos seemed to writhe in ecstasy before moving down her arm and up his, signifying the link they now shared. The tattoos were cool and tingly to the touch but not unpleasant. Nailah closed her eyes for a moment as she let the feeling move through her, pleasure and pain mixing together until she couldn't tell where one began and the other ended.

    She could feel the darkness of their combined abilities calling to her, trying to seduce her to give in, but she was stronger then that. Nailah didn't want to interrupt him, the amount of focus he needed to maintain the spell was considerable and she didn't want his work to be for naught. Those in the vicinity that could feel mana might feel their skin crawl at the amount of dark power currently being channeled for such a good reason. Pain was no stranger to the former High Inquisitor and she grit her teeth and powered through. What she could feel from Ardal had her arching a brow however. Hatred didn't seem to be a part of his personality, cept for one tiny yet glaringly bright spot that seemed to have something to do with his father. Nailah could relate.

    Mana sharing tended to create a connection between the mages that lasted longer then the actual connection, fading over time though the two would probably feel a bit drawn towards each other for a bit. Nailah wasn't afraid of that, and she wasn't afraid of the Order either. They knew what she was capable of and she knew they feared her or they wouldn't have turned on her like they had. She had a few tricks up her sleeve just yet they had yet to see, but she'd been privy to a great many things they wanted to keep hidden. Ardal might feel her hatred for the Order, for the life they stole from her, but mostly he'd probably feel how lonely she was. The only purpose she had now was ARMA, she had to start over, rebuild her life from the ruin of the old one.

    And she was still no closer to finding her brother's murderer. Which still annoyed her. Perhaps now she'd have more time to look, even if she didn't have quite the same pull as before. "Alistair, you better find that healer before you loose all three of us." She told her White Knight with a serious and rather grim tone.

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    Guest Saranna Weaver

    Sorry? SORRY?! That’s all the woman had to say, is sorry? Saranna could feel what little patience she had running thin. Her jaw clenched and her fists tightened with anger towards the woman, the urge to wrap her hands around that womans throat and squeeeeeeze until her neck break or the lack of air caused her to die; which ever came first.

     

    She was so angry with the woman that she could barely breathe.

     

    Deep Breaths. In and out. She forced herself to obey her thoughts as long deep breathes expanded her chest several times as she willed the blood lust from her mind and slowly brought herself back to rational thought. [saranna]Why steal? Why steal from dead and dying?[/saranna] She asked as she approached the woman, each step was deliberate and held both grace and power, this woman was trained, that was clear enough...

     

    When Saranna was close enough to the woman close enough that Mana could FEEL the warm breath of Saranna on her face, Saranna simply reached down, grabbing a fist full of purse handles. [saranna] Let. Go.[/saranna]. Her voice was stern, commanding. It was clear that Saranna really wasn't in the mood to fuck around at the moment.

     

    If and when Mana released the purses she lifted from the dying, Saranna would dig through each one, retrieving various forms of IDs from them before shoving the ill gotten gains back toward Mana, along with the IDs. [saranna]Show respect for dead. Will give ID to proper authorities. Will assist them in identification of dead. Keep money, sell what can be sold.[/saranna]

     

    It was at this point that Saranna leaned in towards the woman even more, letting her voice lower to a whisper as if what she was going to say was going to be heard by everybody else. [saranna]If not completed, will find out, will hunt you and will punish you. Do not think that hiding or protection will help. Understand? [/saranna]

     

    Good job Mana, you are now a blip on a the radar of a serial mass murdering psychopath.

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    ☩"Why steal? Why steal from dead and dying? This was a dream--no a nightmare.  What did the women want?  Didn't everyone loot during times of crisis?  And it wasn't as though the dead would be needing their spare change.  

     

    But the woman scared Mana--scared her more than even some gang guy with evil tattoos and thirty rings studding his ears and lips and nose.  This woman was--well she was intense.  

     

    Mana didn't think a simple, clear and concise explanation of what it was like to live in abject poverty would help much.  Mana's brain, though not really functioning perfectly, was thinking--get as far away from this woman as you can, as fast as you can.  And the way the woman talked--like English was her fourth language or something.  Mana was thinking that English wasn't her first language either, but at least she could use grammar correctly.  

     

    ☩" Let. Go." Of course, Mana had released the purse handles immediately.  Mana was sane.  ☩"Show respect for dead. Will give ID to proper authorities. Will assist them in identification of dead. Keep money, sell what can be sold." And of course Mana would (to the best of her ability) attempt to comply with the illogical order.  But it wouldn't be easy because thus far Mana wasn't even sure she could stand.  Still, Mana had one thing to say for the woman (not that Mana was talking), she had completely made Mana forget the pain she had been feeling from her own injuries.  Maybe she should tell the woman something like "thank you."  But of course, Mana said nothing.  Fear tended to make Mana speechless.  

     

    So  Mana was in full "nodding" mode.  Her eyes lowered and desperately trying to avoid any and all eye contact.   ☩"If not completed, will find out, will hunt you and will punish you. Do not think that hiding or protection will help. Understand? " Mana told herself that as soon as she was feeling better she was moving back to LA.  And what did she mean "keep money, sell what can be sold"?  Mana really wished the woman spoke something other than some bad dialect of Klingonese.  

     

     

    As Mana continued to nod, she thought back to Star Trek shows and even those Klingon creeps spoke clearer.  

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    ((I've been waiting on Altheia and Abby... Sorry for the delay, all. Hopefully Altheia doesn't mind my assumption here.))

    [alistair]Yeah I would imagine that does.[/alistair] Alistair muttered in response to Sebastian, letting him and Nailah pool their powers while he tried to lower the man and his charge down on one of the cots spread out for the wounded. [alistair]Alth! Hey![/alistair] he called out, waving the blonde healer over while he stood up - only just getting the full wave of vertigo he had been storing up, keeping that shield going for as long as he had. NOT normally one of his specialties, that. But it had worked well enough, so he supposed he wasn't going to complain. Unless he went and did something stupid, like pass out. That just wouldn't do.

    When Altheia came over finally to lend her healing power to the three on the ground, Alistair made his way to one of the traffic barriers and sat, finally taking a moment to work on recovering all his expended energy. He hadn't been there a minute before one of the NYPD officers came over, wanting to discuss the affair. As if he had much input at the moment...

    [alistair]Explosives were 'standard' - no trace of magic used. Given the target, I think the natural assumption that this was a crime intended to hit the powered population holds water. Then again it could also be what they want us to think. Like you said though, the secondary blasts, Christ...[/alistair] He winced, looking at how many first responders now were among the wounded - and the dead. It would be a miracle if, before the day was over, none of his people were amid that number. But then they had ways to protect themselves that the NYPD couldn't.

    It wasn't really fair. The Police and Fire responders shouldn't have been hit that way. What the fuck was that message? Anyone who helped people who were changed in the Event were just as guilty? It was a quarter of the fucking population, if not more. They wanted to act like that in the fucking south, that was one thing. But this!? This was fucking New York. They had learned to get along here. This shit shouldn't be happening...

    He dropped his head to his hands for a moment, pressing against his temples, then he stood up, looking to the police captain and letting out a breath. [alistair]Alright. Let's go deal with the press, then.[/alistair]

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    • 2 weeks later...
    Guest Saranna Weaver

     Saranna wouldn’t show it, but she was actually smiling about this girls fear towards the dark haired monster known as Saranna.   Fear was a good thing for the people around her, it signaled that survival instinct was working like it should.  Truth is, Saranna liked it when people were scared of her, it made her feel good, it made her feel….excited.   It was like foreplay before sex for Saranna, and this female in front of her was all sorts of scared of Saranna, she could feel it coming off the woman.    She loved every bit of it, even her skin tingled with excitement.


    A long, soft exhaust sent the thick dust in the air spinning in front of her.  


    Saranna’s already thin patience was wearing thin enough as it was, nearly getting blown to bits tends to have that sort of effect on people so this woman’s lack of answering was REALLY starting to grate on her.  [saranna]Stop shaking head like toy![/saranna]  She finally yelled at the woman, Saranna’s voice was filled with anger and even her body responded, she looked like a coiled spring ready to be released.


    More breathing was needed to temper her anger and slowly, with each breath released, she felt the want...no, that wasn’t correct; the NEED to wrap her hands around the woman’s neck fade from her mind as the world around her turned back to it’s normal color from the proverbial red that curtained her eyes.  Calm.  She had to remind herself.  This was not her fault That little voice spoke to her in her mind in unbroken words, A few moments later she just grunted….well...more of a heavy sigh really.


    [saranna]Still need medical attention.  Shall go with to seek medical care then take leave from space.[/saranna]  She said in a matter-of-fact tone.   [saranna] Sure that medical resources are set up or being set up outside area of danger.   Taking care to avoid possible third explosive device.[/saranna]  She just looked down at the woman,  [saranna]Let’s go.[/saranna]  And with that said, Saranna turned around to head towards the sounds of emergency vehicles.  

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    Mana looked up, half frozen, totally feeling totally raw (if that makes any sense) and saw that the woman was a dark star.  She was a star.  That was certain.  And she was dark--so very dark.  Mana wasn't quite sure how she knew this because Mana was not the type to see auras or have any extra senses.  But there it was--a dark star.  Or there "she" was.  


     


    Dark stars are supposed to suck absolutely everything into them and everything that gets sucked into one then disappears.  Well, that was the story Mana had heard.  Then, Mana, her mind working even slower than normal, almost spoke aloud that those weren't dark stars, those were black holes.  


     


    But Mana thought they were the same.  And this one, so scary, so dark,  that Mana was certain she was going to follow every detail of the instructions she had been given by this dark star--like the transitive nightfall of diamonds.  


     


    Mana heard gongs, maybe church bells, ringing and some kind of low vibration--like a subway train.  Mana wondered if she looked away, to see where the sounds were coming from, would she, when she returned her gaze back to where it was now, would the dark star still be there?  Or would everything have simply of been an apparition?  But the woman spoke:  ☩"Stop shaking head like toy!" 


     


    Mana wondered just how she was to stop shaking--it just wasn't that easy to do.  ☩"Still need medical attention.  Shall go with to seek medical care then take leave from space." ☩" Sure that medical resources are set up or being set up outside area of danger.   Taking care to avoid possible third explosive device."


     


    The woman was talking and Mana didn't have a clue as to just what she was doing and planning.    ☩"Let’s go."


     


    Mana was stunned.  Was she talking to her?  Did she expect that she should follow?  Mana might need medical care but she was too scared to even process that and what did she mean about third explosive device?  


     


    Then Mana did something totally out of character, and yet so totally instinctive that it must have been in character.  She crawled the short distance to the woman's leg and stretched out a hand, cautiously at first, so as to not signal any danger.  Then she slipped the hand around the woman's ankle and leaned forward and pressed her head to her left calf.  


     


    Mana wanted someone to take her home--she didn't want to return to the Kimono House and her broom closet.  She didn't want to be alone.  She wanted to be with someone, and someone strong enough to protect her. There was a long story behind that particular history.   


     


    Mana, however, was half certain she was going to get a swift kick along side of her head.  But she didn't really care anymore.  That was part of it--the being beyond caring.  The other part was like how they always say opposites attract.  Mana was compelled by that very twisted force of nature, that opposite attracting opposite force,  to reach out to this dark star. Mana simply felt the dark star's gravitational pull sucking her in.  She had only one direction to go--and the was straight forward to the woman--to her darkness.  


     


    When the swift kick didn't materialize, Mana spoke, her cheek pressed against the woman's leg, her voice small and sweet, but also shaking: "I want to go home with you. I won't be a problem.  I can be helpful.  I can do the things you don't like to do.  I don't eat much and I don't take up much space.  I can be quiet."  Mana felt exactly like a stray kitten.  She wondered if the dark star, if this strange woman with the crazy diction, well, if she liked stray kittens.  And then she wondered if the woman lived in some really bizarre and unrealistic loft like are often created for TV characters.  Mana sort of hoped so, though she knew that those were Hollywood creations.  


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    Guest Saranna Weaver

    Saranna just stood there, like a freakin’ statue, staring at Mana as the woman grew more frustrating by the moment, the way Mana was still just….staring at her in the most speechless fashion.  Saranna would swear that Mana wasn’t even breathing any more.   Ok, now what?    This female had started to remind her of a small dog, always scared of everything around them.  Yes, that was what Mana was reminding her of right now, a dog...a scared little puppy.  Saranna couldn’t help but feel a sense of pride as she looked down at Mana in her state.  How easy would it be to take her knife and bury into the neck of the woman?   There would be little, if any fight from her, not in Mana’s more than pitiful condition.

     

     

    What happened next, however, isn’t something that Saranna could explain in a million years.   She watched as Mana sloooooooowly reach out to her, like she was reaching out to a dangerous animal.  It was actually a really smart idea, approaching Saranna like that, like she was a deadly creature…..which wasn’t far from the truth anyways.   Whatever Mana’s plan was, it worked, Saranna didn’t give the half expected kick to her head, however tempted Saranna was.   This girl had been through enough….at least for today anyway, so for now, she allowed Mana to gently wrap her hand around her ankle and press herself against her leg.  

     

    Time seemed to all but halt while Mana held her in that...embrace?  Is that what you would call this…...Whatever THIS was?  Then Mana spoke…finally, after what felt like a century, it was just that the words that came from this small female weren't exactly what Saranna was expecting to hear from Mana.   Taker her home?  The request almost caused Saranna to step AWAY from Mana and her crazy request.  [saranna]Odd request,  Why?  Why make such odd request?[/saranna]  Her own voice became a little more stern and serious, edged with a slight hint of anger.  Saranna was always more than a little cautious when asking to be closer to her, instead of running other way.  She was almost entirely sure that this had to deal with the fact that Saranna had caught the girl looting,  [saranna]Would go home with complete  stranger?[/saranna]  She added.  [saranna] Do not even know name,  could be serial killer.[/saranna]   That last bit was said in only a halfway joking manner.

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    The first thing to remember was that Mana was injured.  The second thing to remember was that Mana hadn't had a real meal, a real hot water bath, or even a real bed to sleep in for something like six months.  She was down to three horrible dresses--all given to her in Las Vegas.  Not one fit to wear in a casual circumstance.  

     

    The second thing to remember was that bombs had gone off and people were dead or dying everywhere.  

     

    The third thing to remember was that Mana had searched, had really tried to find some guy, some decent, some not-to-bad looking, some halfway presentable and well-enough-off guy to be with.  She had failed.  

     

    Was there a fourth thing to remember?  Oh, yes, the fourth thing to remember was that Mana had lost most of her pride long ago.  

     

    But what really made Mana pause, almost made her let loose of her grip on the woman's ankle and crawl away as fast as she could was the weird way the woman talked, the weird voice she had, the weird vocal quality to it, and even the strange syntax.   Had Mana been thinking clearer, she would possibly have imagined some Transylvanian vampire speaking with such a voice  (but of course there were no vampires).  Or she might have imagined some relative of Wednesday Addams.  So, if Mana's answers were a bit off, a bit illogical, a bit weird themselves, well, there were "reasons."  The woman had asked 

     

    ☩"Odd request,  Why?  Why make such odd request?"   

     

    Mana answered her as best she could, though she was speaking in a tiny, squeaky voice and drooling on the woman's ankle: "I'm hungry, I want a nice hot shower, and most of all I want to sleep in a bed."  Mana registered that she sounded desperately needy and clearly self-centered.  So, she added, "I'm alone.  I don't even have my purse anymore.  I was watching this woman in the park--that big park, you know, and she scared me.  I was going home and heard the explosion.  I'm an idiot because curiosity got the cat.  I came to see, you see."   

     

     ☩"Would go home with complete  stranger?"    ☩" Do not even know name,  could be serial killer." 

     

    Mana heard the woman reply and again found the woman's way of speaking odder than odd.  Mana let go of the woman's ankle.  She pulled herself up to her knees, so she was kneeling primly in front of the woman.  She spoke softly, her eyes lowering as she spoke: "Yes, I would go home with a serial killer if she had a really nice bed with clean sheets."  Mana was aware that she was speaking more metaphorically than literally--because of course she would never, ever voluntarily go home with a serial killer.  

     

    "I am Mana, Mana Aizawa."  It was not quite an appropriate manner to greet someone--kneeling at their feet.

     

    Of course, the questions Mana should have asked herself are: 1) Mana, would you recognize danger if it was going to split your skull in half? 2) Mana, why are you on your knees mumbling to the ground telling a complete and very weird stranger what your name is?  and 3) Mana have you already given up on finding Mr. Perfect?

     

    (It should be noted that there was no voice inside Mana's head warning her to run, there was no voice inside her head whispering that good girls don't talk to strangers, and there was no voice inside her head that suggested she should roll over like an opossum and pretend to be dead).   

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    Johann bounded up stairs three at a time, powerful limbs propelling him upwards. 

     

    He scanned the smoke as he went, searching for any trace of a human's smell. There were some who had died. Their pulses were weak once he reached them, but there were two or three who had been simply stuck behind collapsed ceilings or floors.

     

    Claws cleared the debris, and cabling bridged the gaps. These civilians were on their way out, relying on one another to get down the stairs as far as they could. The others behind him could help them get free of the smoke and flames.

     

    Johann sought to climb higher. The building was ridden with holes, staircases were rickety, many missing actual flights. 

     

    He smashed in doors, hoping that behind them, he might see a living being. The higher up he got, the fewer lives he found worth saving. 

     

    One door in particular caught his attention, though. There was a scratching behind it that he did not recognize. Claws ignited, burning through whatever locks were present. [Johann] Hello? Anyone there?[/johann]

     

    The door swung open, accompanied by a [npc]Mew[/npc]. It was a freaking cat. Johann had never understood the love for these four legged hate machines, but he was not about to let one die if he could save it. The cream colored furball glared at Johann as he reached out a hand. [johann] Come on. I'm not gonna hurt you.[/johann] Tiny paw swiped at cabled skin, accompanied by a tiny hiss.

     

    Twenty seconds later, the cat had slunk back into the apartment and buried itself under a box. [johann] Fucking cats. OK, fine. I'll bring your damn box.[/johann]

     

    There were no other sounds nearby. The old woman who had lived in the apartment was already outside. Her cat had stayed behind, afraid of the unfamiliar faces who had arrived to take away his food provider.

     

    Box and cat under arm, Johann continued his path up the building, hoping the smoke would clear on the roof. He was only two or three floors away, now. 

     

    There was another figure, about a floor up. A female who seemed to have been trapped on a floor, but was otherwise unscathed. [johann] Excuse me, Miss! Are you OK?[/johann] She was clearly looking for something, or for someone on a lower floor. [johann] The path down is treacherous. You might want to wait on the roof for rescue. The smoke is only going to get worse in here.[/johann]

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    • 3 weeks later...

    Narrowed eyes watched the chaos, feeling the building begin to shudder in the most subtle way.  No more time, but just enough to satiate a deep curiosity.  She’d saved some humans.  Would never tell anyone, or admit to that anyway.  Now, she was purely being selfish… watching the climb of another would be rescuer with the interest of a hungry feline waiting for the mouse to get closer… watching the actual interplay with the feline from smoked darkness.

      

    " Excuse me, Miss! Are you OK?"

     

    Nod was slight.  It was a regular boy scout, holy shit.  Didn't it SEE she was just chillin' on a beam like some sort of fucking Spiderman.  Such a precious little beastie.  She wanted it.

     

    " The path down is treacherous. You might want to wait on the roof for rescue. The smoke is only going to get worse in here."

     

    Adorable, but time for business.

     

    [eris]You smell delicious.  What are you?[/eris]

     

    Words were unconcerned, completely blowing over his questions.  She’d already crashed a chopper, ruined a new pair of vintage shoes, had to save people…  actually fucking save mewling humans from their stupid, and now her suit was trashed.  At least she could get something out of this.

     

    [eris]Because I think I either need to take you out to dinner and find all your secrets, or take you home and keep you.[/eris]  Huff was tight.  [eris]Fine, you can keep the cat..., but you're cleaning the shitbox.[/eris]  Leap upward to the next floor was humanly impossible, done with a grace she enjoyed.  [eris]C'mon.[/eris]

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    Mana had been shivering for what seemed like an eternity--face pressed to the statue-like and statuesque woman.  Mana had expected some reaction, anything.  She had never in a million eons thought that her most humiliating plea would result in total nothingness.  But it had.  

     

    From the outside Mana looked a horror.  Bandages, dried blood, the toll of the explosion written on her small, round face.  Her only coat  lost.  

     

    Mana was left considering her options.  Return the purses she had picked up from various dead or dying bodies and take them to some center and hand them in (as she had been ordered).  Or she could crawl off somewhere and lick her wounds.  Only she was so cold now she considered just embracing her eventual death by freezing.  

     

    Mana had always thought she was rather pretty--true no super model she admitted freely and honestly.  But, she thought she was cute enough to attract some guy (sooner or later).   She had always believed that some day a decent enough looking guy would fall for her.  But she had been stuck on that dream for years now, going on even a decade (ever since she had been a young teen).  So, far not even anything close to true love.  She was getting worried.  She had made this horrible plea to the woman to take her home, and then Mana had offered, had claimed that she would be whatever the woman demanded--yes, Mana was getting really desperate.  But what choices did she have any more?  

     

    Finally, tired of waiting for the woman's name in response to having offered her own name, Mana began looking around, looking to see where she might go to next.  She had not actually looked up at the woman. What was Mana afraid of?  She was afraid the lady had not been kidding when she had jokingly asked Mana if she would  go home with a serial killer.  Mana was afraid that if she did look up, that the woman would smash her skull with a club or gun butt.  So, Mana carefully looked in every direction except up.  

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    Guest Saranna Weaver

    Saranna just stood there, watching Mana for a moment as if she was deciding on what she was going to do with or to her.   In all honesty, she wasn’t exactly sure herself….she had really never been the most caring person in the world.    How could anyone expect her to be after what she had gone through.   It was something That she was SLOWLY starting to overcome….progress was…..slow to say the least but it was there, creeping along now that she wasn’t constantly being reinforced as a living weapon whose only reason was to kill

     

    After much internal debate after listening to Mana talk about WHY she wanted to stay with her, she could almost understand, it had taken time for Saranna to get herself established in life after she was, for the lack of a better word, dropped into her current life.   She finally gave her own name to Mana, her real name.   [saranna]Am called…...Saranna.[/saranna]   How odd it was to attempt to connect to another person, it felt so alien to Saranna.   Not since a certain person who helped her avoid police capture has she allowed herself to remotely trust someone.

     

    In a very rare and unusual display of compassion,  Saranna knelt down towards the girl and placed a hand gently under her chin and tilted her head up so Mana would look directly into her eyes.    [saranna]Understand situation.   Will allow you to stay, perhaps Mana can be useful.[/saranna]  She spoke in that same odd speech pattern as she had before as she stood up in front of Mana, offering her a hand as well for her to grab.  [saranna]First must seek medical treatment for wounds.  Come,  EMT station is set up not far from here.  Can get you stabilized then go home.[/saranna]

     

    Once Mana took Saranna’s hand, she would be give Mana a gentle pull to her feet and even allow her to lean on her until they got to the medical station.

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    ☩"Am called…...Saranna." Mana listened to the woman speak--even as she spoke her name, her foreignness was evident.  It wasn't as though Mana wasn't a foreigner, but to Mana, this one was more foreign.  Still, it was a beautiful name--nice and easy to speak and to hear.  

     

    Mana felt the hand on her chin, a hand so very different than the kinds of hands she had previously felt there.  Before those hands had been male hands, heavy to the touch, powerful and tending to be hard rather than soft.  This hand was different, smaller, with a feel that made Mana search so far back that Mana could only think of her mother.  Before Mana could linger on that thought the woman was speaking again.  

     

     

     ☩"Understand situation.   Will allow you to stay, perhaps Mana can be useful."

     

    Mana liked the strange way Saranna pronounced her name--sort of like someone from some exotic place might pronounce it.  Mana quickly let her eyes brighten and a smile flash across her face.  She was being accepted, welcomed--sort of.  "Yes, I can be useful, I can."  Mana spoke with her small voice, almost a child's voice--still unnaturally high.  She felt a surge of energy pass through her body--it happens when hope arises.  

     

    The woman was kind--how had Mana ever imagined that she wasn't.  The woman maybe had a man.  Oh, wouldn't that be complicated.  Maybe she even had a child or children.  Maybe Mana was being recruited to be a governess.  Still, even that wouldn't be too bad.  
     
    Yes, Mana concluded, anything would be an improvement--even sharing a flat with a serial killer (now wasn't that just so funny?).  
     
    As the woman took Mana's hand, Mana rose shakily, but happier than she had felt in many long months, maybe half a year or more.  Her mind raced forward.  What would the woman's--no Saranna's, not the woman's, never again the woman's, for she now had a name--apartment be like?  Saranna, Saranna, Saranna Mana repeated over and over to herself as she allowed herself to be led forward--somewhere, to some new future.  
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