Rosa taps her fingers, impatient, leg bouncing, as she watches her prisoner settle into his seat, hands newly cuffed so that he’s attached to the chair. It really can’t be comfortable, but he should be thankful for it while he still can, cause once Lawrence gets his hands on him…

“What’s your name?” She asks abruptly, leaning forward to rest her elbows on the desk between them.

He considers her with those abnormal eyes of his, probably weighing any potential consequences of just telling her; if he bothered to ask, she’d tell him he might as well get it over with, not like he’s going to have any choice when they land on Banse. “Callum.” He says at last, and he has a strange accent, she thinks, definitely no Islander, with a slur like that.

“You’re Araneki.”

He, Callum, looks shocked that she knew that, and she smirks.

“We aren’t hillbillies out here,” She says, disdainfully. “Although I’m not so sure about you.”

He curls his upper lip into a sneer, showing off unnaturally sharp teeth.

Rosa raises her eyebrows. “What are you, half cat?”

“As if.”

Casually, she leans forward and backhands him across the face, relishing the sting. And then he straightens, looking bored, and there isn’t a mark on him, despite the heavy Academy ring on her fourth finger. The surprise must have registered on her face, because suddenly, he’s far too smug for her liking. So she yanks the floor out from underneath him, and it’s exactly like he’s falling through space, if she remembers correctly. Rosa grins, watching the smugness fade from his face to be replaced with sick terror, and it’s wonderful, really.

Judging him to be thoroughly put in his place, she rams the floor back up underneath him.

“What are you?” She asks. “Fauna? Fire? Electricity?”

“Excuse me?” Callum says, frowning.

“Your potential; what is it?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Rosa narrows her eyes, and light explodes behind her. “Don’t play dumb.” She says. “It doesn’t suit you.”

“I’m not.” Callum says crossly, pupils flaring outwards to drink up the light, already brilliant orange irises blaze.

“You should know, I’m taking you to an Empath; you wont be able to hide anything from them, I guarantee you.”

“Fine. They can tell you I’m not lying to you; I have no idea what the hell this potential crap is. Though I’m guessing your parlor tricks have something to do with it.”

The room plunges into darkness, an eerie red glow emanating from Rosa’s skin, and suddenly, Callum finds himself wrapped in white hot chains, the stink of burning flesh wafting through the air. He looks up just in time to see a ghastly figure in draped with black smoke and cobwebs drifting across the room, the floor and walls dressed in a slimy crimson glaze.

He hisses, flexes against the scalding metal, teeth slicing clean through his lip. The specter, accompanied by a cool fog, approaches, and Callum shivers as blood dribbles down his chin.

It reaches out for him, and the room fades to white.

Previous: Scene 6-XI

Scene 6-XII

Next: Scene 6-XIII