Combing Through

Coin Toss- http://pastebin.com/KfzS02Fd
Character Sheet/Logs- http://mgcyoa.wikia.com/wiki/Amelia

Most of the time, the grocery store was a nice place to shop. Clean glass windows and a steel storefront showcased row after row of humming refrigerators and rows of food. Locals usually browsed the shelves and manned the check out aisles. It was usually pretty quiet.

There usually wasn’t a banshee in the seafood section.

A lobster tank shattered as the creature screamed. People clutched their bleeding ears or stumbled away as the overhead lightbulb flickered wildly. An old man who’d been waiting in line slumped, cane falling from nerveless fingers...then collapsed, clutching his chest.

Finally, mercifully, the scream ended. The banshee stared at the people around it, hollow eye sockets somehow still giving an air of malice as it glared around it.

Amelia gasped for breath, ears still ringing. Forcing herself to lower one hand from her head, she reflexively summoned her sword with a sound somewhere between a crackling ember and a metallic rasp.

“Alexa, run!” she barked at her partner, not sure what she was going to do but resolving to keep her safe. This was bad. Really bad. All those people...She didn’t dare look away from the banshee, not even to look at the old man or her friend. “I’ll distract it!”

“What?!” It’s not entirely clear, in the first moment, whether Alexa was horrified at the prospect or she was simply deafened by the banshee. She had ducked behind a display after seeing the creature, peering over it at Amelia and the monster in turn.

“I- I’m not leaving you!” She shakes her head, her hands fumbling. “W-we have t-to stop this thing before it- it does any more damage!”

Amelia stands her ground, darting a look at Alexa and away from the banshee. It’s still standing there, it’s gnarled hands held out and clutching empty air. “Damnit, no! Go transform! I’ll-” She cuts off into a surprised shriek. Something cold and rough’s just grabbed her other arm. The banshee’s gripping her wrist, tugging her towards itself. It’s taller than she is, and this close, she can feel its corrupt, dead breath on her face.

“Ahhhhh! Get off!” Amelia slashes wildly, with none of her magic-given strength behind the wild blow. By some fluke, it hits home, grazing the creature’s hair and tearing its shawl. Something clatters to the ground. While the banshee isn’t hurt, it’s definitely surprised, dropping Amelia in a heap of clothes and darting away from her with surprising agility for something so apparently frail.

Then it looks right at her and shrieks again. Amelia screams with it as the banshee’s wail hits home. This is a different kind of pain from what she’s increasingly getting used to on her hunts. It feels like it’s tearing away at her psyche, her sense of self. What makes her Amelia...and even who she was.

She slumps bonelessly, unable to even resist, let alone attack or crawl away.

Alexa screams at the sight of her friend falling, instinctively cringing back against the shelf. She stares at Amelia in shock and horror, and she begins rushing through her transformation phrase, stumbling over the words. She can’t seem to get them out in the right order in her panic, especially not with that infernal scream pounding in her ears. She tears at her hair, hands shaking, her nails feeling sharp enough to cut herself with.

She forces herself to stop. Letting herself hyperventilate, she tries to run over it one more time, thinking through the words.

Just as the first syllable leaves her mouth, there’s a commotion from the other end of the aisle. She turns, her concentration broken, fearing that it’s another banshee. She couldn’t have been more wrong; standing there, wobbling on his knees and looking like he’s about to collapse, is the security guard from the door. His breath is haggard, his skin pals, his arms quivering, and his gun drawn.

He was trained to deal with wannabe-IRA members, not banshees. So that’s what he falls back on; the handgun barks in his hand, a low-calibre slug barely missing the banshee. Then he fires another, which strikes her dead on.

The bullet phases through harmlessly. In fact, all it seems to do is anger her. The screaming stops for a moment, just long enough for her to fix him with a hateful, silent glare before tearing down the aisle at him, screeching loud enough to shred the man’s ears.

He doubles over, collapsing in a heap, but the banshee keeps going. She sails over his body and through the store. The automatic doors slide open, and then the monster is gone.

Alexa is stock still for a moment, staring at the prone security guard. Then she turns to Amelia. She dodders for a moment, looking between them in horror before lunging at her friend.

“A-Amelia? A-a-are you a-alr-alright?” She stutters, trembling as she shakes Amelia’s shoulders.

Amelia gasps for breath, still shaking and even paler than usual. She reaches for Alexa’s hand, wrist shaking. “Y-yeah, it...it just…” She tries to sound reassuring, but just sounds shaken.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I didn’t-- I’m sorry, I… I should’ve reacted faster, should’ve…” Alexa trails off, her sputtering apology cut short. Any trace of her earlier frustration with Amelia is gone; she wraps her arms around her and hugs her, holding her tight for some time. Then, almost regretfully, she breaks away, rising slowly.

“S-stay here, a-alright? Don’t move. I have to…” She turns without finishing her sentence, hurrying over to the security guard and kneeling over him. The rest of the shoppers, shaken but mostly unharmed, are beginning to mill about and crowd around the fallen men. Alexa scowls as she presses two fingers against the security guard’s neck. Then she rises, cutting through the gathering crowd to find the old man and repeat the procedure with him.

The moment she touches his neck, she knows.

“Call an ambulance!” She cries, jolting upright. “Th-this man isn’t breathing!”

Fortunately, one of the staff, though still shaking like a leaf in the wind, has the presence of mind to do so.

Alexa hurries away from the man, back to Amelia as a rumble of panic sweeps through the crowd.

“Oh dear, oh dear, oh dear…”

Amelia’s shakily staggered back to her feet. She takes an unsteady step forward, sword forgotten at her feet as she reaches out to Alexa, expression pained as she sees the scene. A wince.

“Alexa…” she croaks. Someone’s kneeling by the old man, starting to give CPR, and two shoppers are hovering over the guard. She feels a pang. She failed these people.

“We...we have to go.”

That thing’s out there. She has to stop it. Has to make up for this.

“Right. Right, yes. Yes, of course,” Alexa agrees briskly, half in a daze. She turns to leave. As she moves, however, a gleam on the floor catches her eye. She sharply rounds back on Amelia, and pads after her.

Sitting on the floor, not far from where the banshee had emerged, was a comb made of pure, shining silver. It’s strangely beautiful. But more important, something tingles in Alexa’s head, a half-remembered knowledge that this was somehow important. She hurriedly snatches it up.

“Could be useful,” she explains as she turns back to Amelia, jamming the comb into her bag. “Now come along. Can you walk? Are… are you alright?”

Amelia’s slightly unsteady as she stands there, but some of the color’s back in her face. “Y-yeah…” She nods, smiling weakly at Alexa. “I’m okay. Really. Sorry I messed up…” Her gaze darts from Alexa to the scene. The CPR’s still going on, but the shopper doing it has a dull look on his face. Amelia looks at the old man. He looks very small and still, body jerking as the force of the CPR pushes it around.

She’d never seen someone die before. She knows this, the same way she knows what Pluto is or that she grew up in America. But now she has. And she didn’t save him.

Amelia swallows. “Yeah. Let’s...let’s go.” Her voice is very small and low as she makes for the door alongside Alexa. “We have...have to stop it.” she adds, a bit more firmly. They’re not running away from the problem, she tells herself. They’re hunting this thing down and stopping it for good.

“We’ll… we’ll make it better. We’ll fix it,” Alexa insists. Her gaze lingers on the old man. She knows she can’t bring a man back from the dead. But then there’s the security guard. Could she help him? Surely if she could seal a stab wound she could…

But no. The Puchuu had to have his secrets. Alexa seethes. She grabs Amelia’s hand. She’s not sure which of them she’s trying to keep steady.

“We’ll find it. I promise.”

Amelia grips her hand a bit tighter, looking at her. “Right.” She takes a deep, steadying breath of Belfast air. It’s still crisp and clean this early. Good. It’ll clear her head. Help her to make a plan. “It can’t have gone far. We...we should transform first.”

 She takes the lead, tugging Alexa with her as she strides towards the alley. “It’s not getting away from us again.” She says, fire back in her voice. They have to stop it. To make up for this. “And we’ll make it pay for this.”

Alexa merely nods. She’s still pale from the shock of the affair, but she has the presence of mind to see the wisdom in Amelia’s course of action. After entering the alley and progressing some of the way into it, she withdraws her hand from Amelia’s, taking a deep breath.

“Spirits of the glen, guide me swift and sure; that evil might fail and good endure.” There’s much less life in her transformation phrase than normal. The burst of red light is much the same, as well as the requisite procedure. By the end of it, Alexa’s outfit has settled nicely around her form. She adjusts her wide brimmed hat, leaning on the gnarled black wood of her staff.

“Shall we be off?”

“-all evil in this world!” Amelia finishes, blue light flickering around her as she looks back. She takes a breath, feeling energy- and warmth- flow through her from her magic, and gives  a determined nod to Alexa.

“Time to find a banshee!” She declares confidently, flourishing her sword before letting the blade drop back to her side. She glances back to Alexa once she’s at at the alleyway entrance. There’s the wail of an approaching siren.

Alexa starts, momentarily sure that the noise is the banshee come again. Then she realizes that it’s just an ambulance. She follows Amelia at a brisk pace. As she sidles up behind her, she roots around in her bag for the silver comb, withdrawing it.

She wishes she could remember why she thought it was important. Something about it…

“Where should we start? Did you see which way it went?” Alexa realizes what a stupid question this is only after she’s asked it. She ducks her head in embarrassment. “Er… Nevermind. Of course not. Ah… What I meant to say is, shall we split up? Cover more ground?”

Amelia considers this for a moment, then shakes her head firmly. “Stick with me, okay? After all...” she falters for a brief instant then keeps talking. “We’re a team, right?”

She can’t even trust herself to do it right.

“... Yes. Yes, of course. Good idea,” Alexa agrees with a nod. She rolls her shoulders as if preparing for a fight. Which, granted, was what might be happening in the very near future. As they leave the alley, Alexa shoves the comb back into her bag. She flicks her staff skyward.

“Shall we, ah… go by the rooftops? You know. Bird’s eye view, and all.”

“Eh?” Amelia pauses as she starts to poke her head out of the alleyway, straightening again and looking up to the rooftop. “But...how?” She asks, confused.

“Oh, well, ah, it’s quite easy, really,” Alexa says, hooking her staff into the crook of her arm and wringing her hands. “You just, ah… Well, you sort of… Work your way up to the rooftop -- I use a little staircase made of barriers. And then you just… jump from one to the other. Shall I demonstrate?”

Amelia shuffles from foot to foot. She looks...embarrassed? There are voices and footsteps and an ambulance roars by. She looks back to Alexa a moment later, sword tucked under her arm. “I...Yeah. Thanks…” She mumbles. “I...didn’t know about that…”

Alexa makes to pinch the bridge of her nose, but thinks better of it at the last second. Instead, she grasps her staff again and gives it a little flick. The crystal ball glows a brilliant red, and suddenly a crude staircase materializes along the alleyway. To call it a staircase is being charitable; it’s actually a series of disconnected floating disks. Nonetheless, it leads up to the opposite roof. Alexa strides up it, swiftly disappearing over the lip of the building.

Amelia considers the climb for a moment, chewing her lip. Maybe if she tries her magic...No. There’s a monster out there, and no time to experiment.

“Rooftop hopping...” She mutters, taking a deep breath. “Okay.”

 She scrambles up the staircase after Alexa.

Alexa stands in the middle of the rooftop, her hands clasped together. She casts a harried grin at Amelia as she arrives before turning on her heel in the direction she was fairly sure the banshee had fled in.

“Right! This is very simple. Just follow me.” Her position affords her a running start, but she backs up a few paces anyway. In front of her is another rooftop of a building just a bit taller than the one they’re currently on. This doesn’t daunt Alexa. Taking off in a sprint, she leaps upon nearly the edge of the roof, sailing farther through the air than one might expect of a human, her mantle flapping behind her like a cape. She lands deftly up on the other rooftop, and turns back to Amelia with a flourish.

“Easy! Now you try it.”

“Right!” Amelia calls. For some reason, a stray memory crosses her mind- a movie she saw once, before all this. A smile tugs at her lips as she dismisses her sword and moves back.

“...Your mind makes it real, huh?” she murmurs to herself.

Amelia takes a step forward, then another, and before she knows it she’s running to the edge. Can’t stop. Can’t look down. Her breath leaves her lungs in a gasp as she leaps forward as hard as she can. She flies through the air, landing heavily on the rooftop with a thump and none of Alexa’s grace.

“Made it! “She grins at her friend, raising her head and pushing hair out of her eyes.

“A-ha! See? You’re a natural,” Alexa claps politely, smiling encouragingly at her. Her demeanour seems to wilt as she turns around, remembering exactly why they’re here. She straightens up, shaking her head.

“Now, ah… The best way about this would be, ah… you stay on that side of the roof, I’ll stay on this side, and we’ll just leap along the block peeking down,” Alexa nods slowly, wringing her hands. “Although, um… might want to look up, too. Banshees can fly.”

“Oh. Great.” Amelia huffs, but glances up, following Amelia’s instructions. “I guess we’ll know if we get close enough to it anyway...How’d you know that, anyway? I just know...you know...eeee.” She gestures vaguely with her hands, doing a bad impersonation of a banshee’s wail.

A slightly tired, bitter giggle forces its way out of Alexa at the memory. She shakes her head.

“I’ve always had a fondness for mythology,” she comments as she pads across the roof. “You know. Stories about monsters and ghosts and such. Never thought I’d be using any of it.”

Amelia steps around an air conditioner, looking to Alexa. “Well…” she hazards. “It’s a good thing, you did, right? I mean, this way, we’re more likely to know what’s coming, and won’t be caught off guard.” She tries to change the subject. “Hey, maybe when we have the time, we could see if that Overcity library has anything about them? It probably does.” She peers over the rooftop, looking down. “Nothing here.” She calls over.

“A-ha. I suppose so…” Alexa trails off. That comb… What did the comb mean? She should stop obsessing over it. Probably nothing. Peeking over her side, she grunts in the negative, before deftly hopping over to the next rooftop. “Now there’s a good idea. Hopefully we can take care of this one first… But I have been meaning to get there, regardless.”

“Ye-” Amelia’s landing dislodges a shingle, sending it clattering to the street below. “-ah.” she finishes. “Hey, do you remember anything else about banshees? Every little helps.” She’s holding her sword again. “I think it’s still close. I think I can just...feel it.” Her magic pulses faintly. It’s weak- not like when she was near Kreimhild or during her previous fights, but it’s definitely reacting to something.

“Is that so?” Alexa perks up, clutching her staff a bit tighter as she strides along the roof. “Hm. Trying to recall… Flight, affinity for death -- they tend to appear to herald someone’s death, as you, ah… saw. Ah… something about their comb, I think they’re… quite fond of it.”

She shakes her head upon peeking over the lip, then hops over to the next one.

Amelia winces at the reminder.  “Yeah…” She grips her sword a little fighter, biting her lip. “Well, that’s something…” She nods. She connects the dots “Wait, comb? Like the one it dropped? How fond are we talking?” She stops walking and looks at Alexa with keen interest.

“I’m… I’m not sure,” Alexa shakes her head as she withdraws the silver comb once again. The silver gleams in the noonday sun. She turns it this way and that, stopping for a moment.

“Yes, they’re very fond of it. They’re not supposed to... lose... it,” Alexa adjusts her glasses, staring at the comb intently. “I think… if they do they have to… have to find it.”

“So...we have bait?” Amelia perks up. “That means it HAS to come look for us, right? No wonder I can still feel it…Nice work!!” She sounds far too cheerful for someone talking about being hunted down by a monster. “That means...maybe we don’t have to worry about finding IT after all, if it’s going to come to us...We just have to make sure it doesn’t hurt anyone before then...” She frowns thoughtfully. ”Hey, um, what’s the quietest place around here? With the fewest people, I mean?”

“Ah… That’s a good question,” Alexa rubs her chin. She doesn’t seem quite as enthused to have a target painted on her back as Amelia. “Perhaps a… park? No, that’s some ways away, ah… Oh.”

Alexa starts. She turns to Amelia with a vaguely queasy smile.

“... The graveyard,” she flicks her hand back the way they came. “The church graveyard. Nobody would be there at this hour.”

“Sounds good!” Amelia actually flourishes her sword a bit in her excitement, not seeming concerned at all. She has her magic right now, and between her and Alexa...They can take it on. “Let’s get this thing!”

“Ah -- Yes. Yes, of course,” Alexa agrees with a jerky nod, turning on her heel. “C-come along. It’s not far.”

Without further ado, she jogs back the way they came, leaping onto the next roof and taking off.

It doesn’t take long for them to reach the graveyard. The church they had just left that morning looms into view. It’s hard for much of anything to look intimidating in the height of the day, but the stolid stonework has a certain imposing demeanour to it with the spectre almost literally hanging right over their shoulder. Alexa looks around constantly as the graveyard reveals itself.

Connected to the church, it’s clearly an ancient plot of land. It stretches off along a broad, flat plain, interspersed with the occasional tree. It’s big enough to necessitate a road running through it; a long stretch of modern asphalt that contrasts vividly against the old stone wall that borders it and the crumbling tombstones that dot it like leaves in autumn. Alexa leaps down from the roof once it comes into view, walking in through the open gate on foot.

“Spooky.” Amelia comments, walking alongside her.

“At least we don’t have to do this at night,” Alexa tries to joke, a quickened exhale the closest she can manage to a laugh.

“Hey, you alright?” Amelia asks abruptly. “We’ve got this. If you’re right about the comb, it’ll head right here and there’s no way it can take both of us. If not...well, we track it down and stop it anyway. You did good, okay?” She reassures.

“... Right. Right, of course,” Alexa agrees with a short nod. She keeps close to Amelia, smiling thinly at her. “Sorry. I always get nervous before a fight.”

“Hey, nothing to be sorry for...and it’ll have to get through me first.” Amelia declares, smiling back. “If anyone should be scared, it should be that thing.”

As they walk, the trees lining the path become taller and thicker, clustering closer together. Alexa turns, busying herself reading the names on the tombstones between checking every which way for the banshee. The creature has yet to show herself, but there’s an unmistakable tension in the air.

There’s almost an impatience to Amelia’s movements as she strides along, less cautiously than Alexa but with just as much anticipation. “Anything interesting?” She asks, more to break the silence than anything.

“... Molly Sword. Huh. That’s such a pretty name,” Alexa observes, slowing down at one particularly humble, crumbling grave. She shakes her head a moment later, however, continuing on. “No, I suppose not.”

“I hate this part,” she grumbles under her breath. “The calm before the storm. I almost wish she’d just--”

Just as the two of them reach a fork in the road, Alexa is cut off by a very familiar sound. An unearthly, ghostly scream, cutting through the air like a knife. It’s in front of them, and far, but loud enough to rattle their bones.

“-show up.” Amelia finishes for her. There’s an angry, anticipatory glint in her eye. This thing nearly killed her. It killed people she was supposed to protect. It’s a monster- and she’s supposed to kill monsters. That, and she wants payback.

 “Sounds like it really wants its comb back. Come on, let’s go!” She takes off at a sprint. If it’s screaming like that, it needs to be put down, fast before it runs into someone without magic. Again.

Always rushing right into things, never thinking for a moment… It would be admirable if it weren’t the same attitude that had cost Alexa her coin.

The red mage jerks at that thought. Where had that come from? Shaking it away, she hurries after Amelia, her slightly shorter legs working much faster to keep pace. The scream came from off the beaten path; the two of them dodge around gravemarkers as they work their way deeper into the graveyard. Just as Alexa fears that they might have lost their way or gotten turned around somewhere, there’s another scream. Closer. Angrier.

This close, the source is unmistakeable. On a slight incline, barely even a hill, sits a brilliant marble mausoleum. Larger than any other grave by far, it’s topped by an aging statue of an angel, wings spread and arms extended. The door of the mausoleum, a great stone slab, has been roughly shoved aside, sitting askew against the threshold.

And there, just inside, is the banshee, staring at them with its cold, empty, hateful eyes.

Amelia grins at it. Actually grins at it, an unfriendly expression closer to a snarl than a smile. “Hey.” is all she says before lunging right at it, blade stabbing straight at the thing’s heart. Blue flames crackle around her, searing the air and reaching for the banshee.

The banshee screams. The noise pierces the girls’ ears, but isn’t enough to halt Amelia’s charge. Dodging backwards, the wraith barely weaves out of the way of the blow, her black cloak rending and briefly catching alight from the graze. This only seems to anger the creature even more, and her screech rises to a fever pitch. Momentarily slipping back into the mausoleum, she suddenly darts forward.

But instead of at Amelia, she weaves around her, going for Alexa and the comb in her bag. The red mage yelps in shock, conjuring a barrier just before the banshee claws her eyes out. The hag slams into it, but is once again undeterred. She tries to dodge around the barrier, slashing at Alexa, when, with another flick of her staff, the circular barrier suddenly morphs like a non-newtonian fluid, turning into a wreath that constricts the banshee. As the hag fights to free herself, her back is left open to Amelia.

“No, you don’t!” Amelia snarls, and hacks down with a yell, any restraint or reserve burning away between adrenaline and seeing it attack Alexa. The fiery sword cleaves through the air and reduces the revenant’s shawl and cloak to smoldering tatters...then leaves an ugly, deep wound in the creature’s back. Amelia’s already swinging her sword back in another blow, aimed to decapitate.

The banshee tries in vain to break the barrier keeping it in place. A moment too late, it tries to take off and ascend into the air. All it succeeds in doing is redirecting the decapitation into a brutal, crushing blow into what would be its collarbone if it had human anatomy. It wails, just as horrendous to the ears as any other time but filled with agony instead of anger. It crashes to the ground, foul black ooze seeping out of its ragged wound.

“SHUT UP ALREADY!” Amelia screams at it, then swings again and again, slashing away at the fallen banshee with single-minded zeal.

This thing killed someone. It’s a monster. It needs to die.

The banshee screams as the sword comes down again and again. By the third blow, there are wisps of smoke trailing from the body. By the fifth, the rags have caught fire. Finally, as Amelia brings her sword down on what’s left of the banshee again, the body goes up in a whoosh of acrid smoke.

Amelia coughs, glaring down at the body. “Ha!” She snaps, wild-eyed. “Good riddance.”

She looks up, blinking a few times as though remembering where she is. “Well, that wasn’t so bad…” She comments to Alexa, giving her a sincere smile that looks a bit out of place on her soot-stained face. Black ochre drips from her sword, sizzling as it starts to evaporate off the blade. “Nice trick with the barrier, Alexa!”

Alexa stares at Amelia in naked shock. Her staff hangs limply from her hands, glasses stained with splatters of the black substance. She blinks owlishly at Amelia as she works them off and sets about cleaning them on her mantle.

“... Ah… Thank you,” she says dully, only now remembering to smile. “Yes. Yes, ah, excellent work with… that.”

She gestures at the small pile of ash that is all that remains of the creature.

“You’re, ah… improving your technique.”

“Thanks!” Amelia’s all smiles as she scrapes her sword in the grass, shaking off piece of banshee as she does. The fire at her feet smolders and dies down. “I guess there’s a lot of stuff I’m still figuring out about my magic...stuff like the roofhopping…”

She’s chatting like she wasn’t just in a life or death fight.

“Thanks for that, by the way!” She chirps, then seems to sober up slightly as she glances down at the rags and a thought strikes her. “...Yeah, it was a really good call to take that comb…It might even have...have run into someone else…So, yeah.” She shuffles from foot to foot. “Good call.”

“My, ah, my pleasure. Thank you,” Alexa digs the comb out of her bag at the mention of it. Even as she takes it out, however, it’s clear something is wrong. Without the banshee’s magic to sustain it, the comb begins to crumble away into a fine dust. A gust of wind carries it away, and before long Alexa is holding nothing.

“... A pity. I’d have made a gift of that,” she shakes her head dismissively. “Well! Shall we be off?”

Maybe it’s for the best, Amelia thinks, remembering the black coin. She nods.

 “Yeah, let’s go. Hey, um, you still have that grocery list, right?”

“Of course,” Alexa roots about in her bag, withdrawing the slightly red-stained grocery list. With one last glance at the banshee’s remains, she turns on her heel, cancels her transformation and starts off back the way they came.

“... We may need to go somewhere else, though.”

Amelia’s a bit slower to drop her transformation, and immediately wishes she hadn’t. Without her magic to keep her going, she feels every minute of the hunt- and the aftereffects of the banshee’s wail- come crashing down on her shoulders like a ton of bricks. She slumps a bit, and walks alongside Alexa. “Yeah. Shame...It seemed like a nice place too…Do you think anyone’d...you know, recognize us if we went back later?”

She’s trying not to think about the old man or the guard. She doesn’t even remember what their faces looked like.

“... I’m, ah… not sure,” Alexa shrugs, her shoulders bunching up. Having not exerted herself as much as Amelia, she seems slightly better for wear, but the reminder of the old man’s fate makes her pale. “I mean, ah… I did, um, draw a bit of attention to myself, what with the… you know. But, er… I mean, after a couple days, probably not. No. No, I’m… quite certain they won’t.”

“You did the right thing.” Amelia says firmly. “And...Yeah. Good.” She exhales. “I don’t really want to try explaining a banshee to...you know…” She shrugs, the gesture a bit too forced to be casual. “Well. Right...” A gust of wind tugs at her hair. Her face is still stained with soot.

“Right,” Alexa nods with an air of finality. She clasps her hands together and quickens her pace out of the graveyard. “Let’s be off, then. And… if we see a water fountain, try and clean
your face.”

“Eh?” Amelia rubs her face, only smearing the soot further. She groans. “What a day, huh? It’s not even afternoon yet...”

The two wander off, and the graveyard falls back into quiet solitude.

====

Later, back at the apartment…

Alexa had been sent to the kitchen to sort and store the groceries. This was not a long process, and eventually she retires to her room. Kreimhild, meanwhile, wanders around the apartment. Embedded in the walls, behind paintings, on the tops of thresholds and on windowsills, as well as other, seemingly random spots, are strange runes of her own making. She peruses these like a general surveying her troops, touching ones up here or there or even adding new ones seemingly on a whim. This seems to be quite a common activity for her.

There are loud footsteps behind her. A door opens.

“The coin’s gone.” Amelia announces without preamble. Her voice’s level. Almost dispassionate, if not for a slight edge to it. She folds her arms, watching Kreim from the doorway as she waits for a response.

Kreimhild starts halfway through etching a rune into a windowpane with a single, sharp talon. She is still for a moment. Then, slowly, she rounds on Amelia. Her sclera is bright yellow, and her irises black pools.

“... And how did this happen?” She asks, all too calm.

“Because I threw it away.” Amelia glares into those eyes. Those yellow and black eyes. Nothing human about that color. “That thing was evil. Wrong. It was doing something to her. And you wanted her to take it. To use it.” She snaps, calm fraying. She takes a breath, calming herself. She straightens, leaning forward and staring up into Kreimhild’s eyes. Her fingers are digging into her arms. “I don’t know exactly what it was supposed to do. I don’t care. I don’t know WHY you wanted her to use it so badly.”

She pauses. A moment. A breath.

“But Alexa trusts you. If you hurt her...I. Will. Burn. You.”

“Just so we’re clear.” She lets the statement- the threat- hang in the air, not looking away.

Kreimhild stares at Amelia silently for several long seconds. Her expression is utterly placid, as cool as could be, even as her fingers each sprout long black claws in turn, the skin turning to a hard, chitinous yellow. She grins, and her jaw seems to jut forward like a beak.

“You are welcome to try, paladin,” she says, her tone foul. The smile breaks down all of a sudden.

“But in your self-righteousness, perhaps you failed to consider that I am TRYING to HELP her!” Her face twists into a furious scowl, her eyes flaring with green fire. “There is a beast in every girl, paladin, and it stirs when they draw their weapon -- hers more than most. That ‘EVIL’ coin could HELP her control the powers that she CANNOT UNDERSTAND!”

Kreimhild suddenly whirls on her heel, pacing the room like an angry tiger. Her claws clench and unclench over and over again.

“She does not understand, cannot understand -- but I see it in her. The beast. STRAINING against its chain, and if she cannot learn to control it…” She shakes her head roughly. “The Puchuu, in their ETERNAL ARROGANCE, they have mangled her. I am trying to FIX her! Can you even TRY to UNDERSTAND?!”

Amelia’s stony-faced as she follows Kreim’s pacing. There’s an almost comical seriousness to her expression as she furrows her brow in thought. “You really do think you’re helping her.” She says flatly after a long moment. “ The Puuchu...What they did was wrong, but...whatever you think you’re doing here...It can’t be the right way. Not something like that coin. Her powers...she’s already learning how to use them. She...she’s a better magical girl than I am, already.” She admits quietly. “You sure she’s the one that needs fixing?”

“YES,” Kreimhild insists, rounding on the smaller girl again. Her eyes continue blazing with that strange, otherworldly light, as she looks her up and down. “You can not see as I see. But one day, you will. One day, she will lose control, of this I am sure. Then you will understand.”

She shakes her head again, turning to glare out the window.

“The coin can not have gone far. It chose her. Of this I am sure.”

Amelia shakes her head stubbornly. She hasn’t even transformed.

"Then I'll have to throw it harder next time." She mutters. “I don’t believe Alexa’s...I can’t believe that’ll happen. I’ll stop it. There’s got to be a better way than...that thing, even if you’re right. What if you’re wrong? Ever consider that there might be a way to help her without...something like that?” Amelia declares, with the utter, unshakable certainty of someone with more conviction than knowledge.

“I am not,” Kreimhild is beginning to calm down. She examines her claws in the afternoon light. “There is no better way. The coin will improve her. Much as it has me. It will find her again, when the time is right.”

Amelia’s clenched her fists. It’s like arguing with a brick wall. Can’t she see what she’s doing is wrong? Why can’t she get it?

“She doesn’t need...improving.” Amelia spits the word out. “And if I see it again, I’m melting it.”

“You will find this quite difficult,” Kreimhild snickers mockingly. “I promise you, you will see. Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow… but you will see.”

Amelia...doesn’t have a reply to that. She just stands there, glaring for a moment longer. Is that a flicker of confusion? Uncertainty? Whatever it is, it vanishes a moment later.

She turns on her heel, the door slams behind her, and she’s gone.