This is Naoko speaking (due to lack of font color options, I’ll be speaking in bold from now on). This little story is her writing exercise. Nothing should be taken seriously in it. Thank you. Bear in mind that it is rated NC-17.
She dropped the vial. It did not break, thank goodness, but it was worrisome. Her sister must have gotten into some trouble, but judging from the fresh cut on her hand, it was nothing she could not handle. She loved her sister dearly, but sometimes she took too many chances. It would not be long before they realised that who her sister was. As long as she was not attracting the wrong kind of attention though, they were untouchable.
She picked up the vial, washed it again in the lab’s sink, and then put it away. For just two minutes, she stared at it, as though uncomprehending what it was. It was not unusual for people to find her like this, stuck in some faraway dream. The only thing they did not know was that her dreams were not just a dream. She was so still, even her gently-falling forward blond hair did not move.
“Spirits of the Dark, return to me!” she straightened her arm towards the man, palm open.
The man fell to the ground as three dark shapes fled from him into the young woman’s hand. His breathing was ragged, his clothes were torn, and there was blood dripping everywhere. The woman looked at him without really caring. She was more worried about the three shapes that had returned to her hand, who were reassuring her that they were fine. Once she was satisfied that they had had no injuries from the encounter, she turned to the man, the voices in her soul silent.
“What were your orders?” He refused to answer her, so she let him stew for a moment. With a swift kick, she aimed for his face.
He avoided her.
Even though he was bound, he managed to draw the strength to jump away from her. As his bonds flew away, she caught the smell of smoke and charred ropes. She grinned ferally. This was proving to be an interesting Hunt. Of course, standing there in front of her with his flame arm raised and the shape of the blue-coloured flame beginning to solidify, she smiled, bowed and stepped back, fading into whatever darkness she came from, not giving him enough time to summon the flame.
“Damnit!” (Of course, his words were more colourful, but that’s besides the point) and he extinguished the illusion of the Flame. He did not have his distant cousin’s ability to summon true Flame Spirits, and had to resort to Illusions. It did not matter though. The trick had bought him a few days, and that was what he needed now.
She has to be told. It was the only thing that sustained him for the longest week of his life.
To be continued when she has more time to sleep.