[Hannah Kerela]

The girl had left the shrine a long time ago; she had no need for the enduring beliefs and whims of a civilization that had since evolved so very far. The Fe'gan Mountains were the useful location to her; quiet and secluded and cold, she knew the mountains were a real refuge for her.

After all, she'd run for freedom, to preserve her Self. Just like the others. And even if they'd been scattered, at least they were free - while unable to locate one another, she felt certain that they would know if any one of them was in danger. She pulled her thin sweater tighter around her frame - the unfortunate result of her wandering was that she was supremely unprepared for the cold that the Fe'gan mountains brought with them.

But she'd felt called to this unwelcoming terrain; she felt as if she needed to come.

[Hannah Kerela]

The man leaned against the rocks, watching the snow fall. His employer had told him to wait here for someone, though he had no clue who: M had told him, merely, that he'd know his target when he saw her; he was to bring her back with him.

He pulled his coat tighter against the wind; he didn't like the cold terrain, but M had sent him: he wasn't one to deny such a powerful man.

And, besides all that, he was curious. What sort of girl had caught M's attention enough to warrant sending him to retrieve her?

[Hannah Kerela]

Far from the other two people on the mountain in temperament, the child ran in the snow, giggling and seemingly immune to the piercing cold. Bright blue eyes shone with delight and she tossed herself down and laid in the snow-covered dirt.

Not every child from the monastery had to be stern and reserved, it would seem - this child was giggling and joyous, and full of life.

She sat straight up, though, when she heard a familiar voice, jumping to her feet and taking off at a run down the icy path.

"Asara!"

[Hannah Kerela]

Asara leaned against the rock still, singing quietly, words that to an outsider sounded nonsense, but to her ears translated into an invocation for warmth, energy, resolve. All things she needed. She pulled her coat closer around her still. What calls me here?

Since her escape from the monastery, Asara had found herself drifting - she had hoped that freedom would give her root, but she hadn't found any purchase as of yet; rather, she drifted more. But, still, it was a happier drifting: she was searching for purpose, not for belonging.

She saw a blue blur up ahead of her, her only warning before a small, agile body tackled her to the ground in a high-energy hug, squealing her name.

"...Anaia," she said after a surprised moment, hugging the child back. Remarkable, that even as cold as the child's body felt, she was still energetic and healthy.

[Hannah Kerela]

Unfortunately for the girls, someone else had heard the singing, as well, and the laughing. Michael pushed off of his place, heading toward the direction of the voices. His eyes were narrowed in thought.

Two voices. What...? M had only mentioned one target, not two.

He kept walking; the voice suddenly stopped singing, as if surprised by the other voice. Which means she thought she was alone. He chuckled to himself; what a fortunate coincidence! Two lovely presents for his Master instead of one.

Yes, he could agree to these circumstances.

[Hannah Kerela]

Anaia giggled. "Asara! Asara, you hafta come play with me! To celebrate!"

She twirled a bit, then stopped, looking at Asara with sudden seriousness. "Have you found anyone else?"

"Riddler and Contemplation," Asara said. "None of the others, until you."

"Then I'm lucky number three for you!" Anaia said happily. "I'm so happy!"

She danced again; she was happy.

[Hannah Kerela]

Asara smiled. "Lucky number three, huh?"

"Uh-huh!"

Asara grinned to herself - leave it to Anaia to learn these insane modern customs quickly. It was just like her to do so; just like it was like Asara herself to remain detached from it all.

Thinking on it, she envied the girl. She put that aside, however, running after her.

[Hannah Kerela]

Anaia giggled. "Can't catch me!" she squealed, taking off up the path.

She giggled to herself, and jumped up, twirling and shifting forms, taking off in the air, laughing.

"No fair!" Asara yelled after her, though the other girl too switched forms and ran after her. She squealed more and flapped her wings faster.

"You'll never catch me~!" she singsonged.

It felt so good, the cold air in her wings!

[Hannah Kerela]

Asara felt freer in her quadrupedal form, she had to admit - it was so much more relaxed, so much more free, so much more her

She did regret being unable to fly, though - Anaia was getting ahead of her! Still, she was faster in this form, so she wasn't losing much ground. She focused, giving an extra burst of power to her legs and beginning to gain on the other girl.

Yeah, she enjoyed this. It was relaxing, and it gave her such a rush to run!

So much of a rush that she didn't even notice the man watching them from a ledge above them.

[Hannah Kerela]

Michael saw the girls run past under him, and couldn't help but grin - such wonderful specimen.

M had never specified that he needed the second girl; perhaps he could take the older one and charm her? She was rather beautiful... He shifted into his own quadrupedal form, and leapt down to take chase, panting with the exhilaration of the chase.

Sure, he was M's hound, as he'd been called. But it was a fun job, and it paid well.

[Hannah Kerela]

Asara was so caught up she didn't notice the other lucain gaining. Noticing a chance, however, she pounced at the kitrell, lightly tackling her to the ground and then nosing her lightly.

"Caught you."

She stepped back off of Anaia quickly, though, not wanting to harm the small creature. Anaia shook the snow off, and curled up on her back.

It was odd. This 'playing' was... nice. Familiar. It made her feel more at ease.

[Hannah Kerela]

Michael stalked up behind the girls, keeping low. His light coat came in handy; he mostly blended with the snow.

They only had precious few seconds warning before he lunged, gripping the kitrell in his jaws. The tiny thing squealed in pain, thrashing.

The lucain growled, lunging straight for his neck. He threw the kitrell away, jumping out of her way.

She didn't back off. She advanced on him slowly, snarling.

"Who the heck do you think you are? Anaia, fly straight down to the temple and wait there for me."

"B-but Asara...!" The foolish kitrell squealed. Michael moved toward her, only for Asara to ram into him, knocking him off course.

"GO!"

The kitrell followed orders. Dangit. He growled, lunging at Asara - he'd take what he could get.

[Hannah Kerela]

Asara got hit, but she didn't stop fighting back - instead, she latched her teeth into Michael's neck and bit hard. The male jerked back, growling in pain. Asara scrambled to her feet, shifting into her humanoid form.

"What's the meaning of this!?" she demanded angrily, stepping back and setting her hands into a defensive position. She didn't wait for an answer, though, beginning to sing under her breath. the song, of course, was more than a song - it was a spell, specifically one to trap Michael into a net or cage of some sort.

She wasn't playing anymore - she was angry.

[Hannah Kerela]

Michael bit and clawed at the net, growling and shifting forms, trying to break out with the sudden change in size. It didn't work. He glared. "Let me out!"

He only got angrier when Asara didn't look angry. He continued to fight, hoping to wear the girl down. There was a chance, right? He was just glad Najwa wasn't there to watch passively in her annoying self-satisfied way.

Oh, Zu'hai, Najwa. He hated the girl; he couldn't stand her antipathy, which was only slightly better than her apathy. He wanted to kill her, except for M's power. And he was quite sure that Najwa and her boss had a fling going on. Which didn't surprise him in the least. Really, he quite despised the both of them, but their power was alluring.

[Hannah Kerela]

Asara only laughed at his anger, easily slipping into the role of power that she held. It was her greatest vice, her love of dominance. For such a normally docile girl, the thrill of the fight enthralled her. She advanced, still singing the spell under her breath, and pulled out a small, sharp stone, holding it to Michael's throat, watching him for a sense of what he would try to do.

Riddler would have killed him already, a small voice in her head commented.

She looked surprised as Michael stilled, however, looking at him to wait for what he would say.