Isabel probably should have known better than to turn on the television. She should have doubly known better than to turn on the television and allow the news to remain on the screen. Nothing good ever came of her watching the news. Occasionally she got a good stroke for her ego if she was mentioned, but the majority of the time it was nothing but trouble. She distinctly remembered a certain redhead grinning at her from the television last time she'd passed the Rec Room and had paused to see what the kids that had gathered were watching. She also may or may not have broken the screen before the news report could end.

She had nearly changed the channel when a familiar winged figure popped up on the screen, though the image was rather blurry. Isabel remembered her from her dream. She had been Deputy Do-Good for the Town, always circling overhead and swinging shovels at the poor Amazons when they were out collecting donations. She hadn't taken any time to get acquainted with the gargoyle mutant, so she was only really known to her as a giant pain in the ass.

She paid little attention as the news reporter rattled off some numbers relating to the number of views the video had received as it had apparently been put up on ViewTube not too long before the media had snatched it up. It was hard to listen to anything the anchor was saying as the video progressed, only getting worse and worse as it did. The police presence set Isabel's teeth on edge and that was before anything had really happened. It escalated very quickly, first with the young woman flipping over a second car in an attempt to escape, and then exploding into a full-on attack. The news station didn't even bother censoring the video, despite how brutal it was. Perhaps she had flipped on one of the news stations with anti-mutant undercurrents.

She could just barely hear the sound of retreating footsteps from the few kids that had been occupying the room when she'd wandered into it. There was a distinct ringing in her ears that covered up most of the sound, and mercifully muffled the majority of what the bottle blond news anchor with the too-white teeth was saying. She could still see that generic smile, though, which seemed to have a hint of a smirk in it.

There were a number of reasons that Isabel hated the police, and they never failed to disappoint her views of them. What could that girl have possibly done to deserve such barbaric treatment? They could have killed that girl, and neither of them likely would have cared very much if they had succeeded in doing so. Hell, they'd probably have patted each other on the back.

A sharp pain in her palms brought her back to reality. Looking down at them she discovered that several of her nails has cut into the skin, the pale flesh smudged with red as it bubbled up in little half moons. Somehow the sight of it just agitated her even more and before she was even sure of what she wanted to do, she was already tearing around the room, pulling things off of shelves and the walls, shredding the cushioning of the furniture and tipping over whatever didn't demand too much effort for such a task. She was cursing and yelling at no one in particular, her anger and outrage trying to escape any way it was able.

She raged out into the hallway scratching up the walls and overturning decorations as she went, smoke from a sparking television screen billowing after her. Unfortunately for the rest of the floor, it would probably set off the fire alarm before too long, and with it the sprinkler system. That wasn't any of her concern, however. She was leaving the Sanctuary and heading for the streets. It was much too cramped in the facility for her to remain within its walls while in such a state. She felt trapped, too much energy and rage pent up and escaping. She had to get outside. She wanted to put herself into a crowd of as many people as she could find as quickly as she could find them. If these people wanted blood, she'd give it to them.

Technology truly was a marvel of the modern age. Consider, for just a moment, the sheer wealth of information at your fingertips. With nothing more than the press of a button you can follow the sociopolitical events of another country, learn the names and locations of distant solar systems as well as the orbits of the celestial bodies found within. You can find tools to acquaint and familiarize yourself with knowledge in the realms of science, literature and mathematics.

Or scroll through untold images of felines in various improbable circumstances. That was apparently quite popular too.

Shaking his head at such a notion Zephyr nevertheless followed through with his train of thought as he rested in the backseat of the cab currently making its way through the usual chaotic turmoil of the city streets.

Information was more freely available now that it had been in any other time in history. While this was a fact to be lauded and praised in various academic and philanthropist circles, the truth of the matter was that freedom of information had shifted from a virtue to a vice. There was simply too much available, and with no effective way to separate the wheat from the chaff, the masses inevitably ended up listening to whoever happened to shout the loudest.

The elemental was well aware that his thoughts on these matters were far from popular, especially in the oh so democratic nation of America; the country of opportunity where all was fair and every man was treated equal- no wait, that was communism. Funny how the two could be so easily confused at times.

In any case, as far the Zephyr was concerned his views on the flooding of information were perfectly justified in the article before him. Footage of a mutant girl, barely more than a child, left beaten, broken and bloody by what seemed to be members of the city’s very own NYPD in an unexplained fit of rage. The video had torn through the internet like a rampaging herd of cattle, rapidly subverting all other news and swiftly coming under the auspice of national media branding it a ‘Horrific Crime of Hatred’.

At least, that’s what some were calling it, there were actually quite a number of news agencies who possessed an antipodean view of the matter and praised the NYPD for keeping the streets safe and preventing the rise of another Isabel Duskmoor…

Thinking of the brunette once again Zephyr issued a slight sigh as he placed the small tablet computer beside him on the backseat and glanced idly out the car window as his mind turned to the subject of the rather volatile young woman.

Ever since their little… affair, in Chicago a number of weeks ago he’d largely left the girl to her own devices. All but breaking off contact after he’d dropped her off at Sanctuary with some clean attire and an idle remark not to dwell on what had happened between them because it wasn’t important.

He’d chosen to keep his distance for a number of reasons, partially to give the gamine a rather needed rest. She’d been in quite a state after he’d extracted the Promise, and while he’d enjoyed the quiet on the trip back, it had been quite clear she’d need some time to herself before she could be of any real use.

He’d also wanted to test the soubrette to a degree, a combination of curiosity and practicality causing him to wonder just how long the girl would remain cowed when he wasn’t present to reinforce the lesson. He had no intention of babysitting the soubrette after all and so he needed to gain some idea of how long she could be left to herself. She’d actually been doing quite well lately which made his visit today something of a pity.

Finally, the elemental had also wanted to give the Promise a chance to take root. Honestly he’d been hoping for at least a solid two months before he’d have to step in. The associated compulsion within the Promise would have been far from absolute but, from what he understood, it would have been sufficient to begin influencing the behavior of most individuals.

Annoyingly however, this…. Fiasco, with the NYPD was forcing him to re-evaluate his plans and so Zephyr now found himself returning to Sanctuary somewhat sooner than he would have liked. It couldn’t be helped though, Duskmoors attitude towards the police was well known as was her belief in the homosuperior philosophy. There was no way in hell she’d take news of the mutant girls beating quietly and the last thing the situation needed right now was another one of her bloody rampages.

Not yet anyway.

Instructing the cab to pull over a few short blocks away from Sanctuary Zephyr pocketed his tablet and retrieved a small satchel he’d left in the trunk before quickly making his way to one of Sanctuary’s many side entrances. While normally kept locked a small burst of air from inside was all it took for the elemental to gain entry and swiftly make his way to the lobby.

In all likelihood Duskmoor had already left but the fact that he’d yet to hear sirens gave the mercenary some slim hope that he might yet catch her. Of course, if the girl had actually answered her bloody phone he might not have had to come down at all. As it was though he’d prepared for the eventuality that he might have missed her; she’d have to return at some point after all and when she did-

CRASH

On second thought, he might actually be in luck.

Moving at a fast pace which more than a walk but not quite a run Zephyr headed down the hallway after the sound of wanton destruction. In all honesty it was a rather interesting trial of breadcrumbs he had to follow and all but impossible to miss and so he managed to catch with the buxom bonemancer relatively quickly, catching sight of her as he rounded a corner just a short distance from the main lobby and the infamous golden doors.

“Duskmoor.”[/color]

He didn’t yell, with his talents he didn’t have to. He pitched her name across the brief space between them and forced the surrounding air to carry it straight to her ears with rather more force than was strictly necessary. The moment her name hit her Isabel’s destructive march came to an abrupt halt as she stumbled and nearly collapsed against the wall.

Not giving her a chance to gather her bearings Zephyr quickly closed the few feet between them and put himself between her and the golden doors, letting her see his less than pleased expression and watching as the rage drained from her face as her features paled.

“You’re coming with me.”[/color] He spoke quietly this time, barely more than a whisper, as he leaned over and grasped her arm just below the shoulder.

"Don’t even think about fighting me on this.”[/color] He warned her as he hauled the soubrette back to her feet and all but dragged her away from the lobby and back into Sanctuary.

It was time to set a few ground rules.

Nearly having a heart attack had not been on Isabel's agenda for the day. She also hadn't been expecting anyone within the Sanctuary to accost her. Usually when a tantrum boiled over people just got out of her way, trying to keep out of the line of fire and most likely hoping that'd she'd take to the streets as soon as possible, which would only be delayed by anyone stepping into her path or speaking to her.

This time she'd been interrupted just before she'd reached the doors, though not by anyone she could see. It was very unnerving to have a disembodied voice all but shout into her ears and the shock of it nearly caused her to fall ass over teakettle as she started and tripped as a result. Once the initial surprise of the sudden noise began to abate, it was quickly replaced by what felt like her stomach dropping and all the little hairs on the back of her neck standing up. That voice was not one she wanted to hear.

Making a break for it apparently wasn't an option as a scrawny young man got between her and the golden doors. If it were anyone else, she probably could have brushed past them without too much trouble, but Zephyr was a rotten cheat. She'd found out the hard way that trying to harm him wouldn't end very will for her.

Suddenly she didn't feel so much like roaming the city and stirring up trouble. Isabel would have much preferred to slink back to her room and hide out until Zephyr disappeared again. She liked it so much better when he wasn't around. It was so much easier to ignore him and pretend he didn't exist, even if her phone was ringing with an irritating increase in frequency. Come to think of it, she'd much rather have to listen to him on the phone than see him in person. She didn't feel right when he was around physically. She was in a perpetual state of jumbled nerves and didn't feel like herself. She hated it almost as much as she hated him.

She wanted to protest when his hand shot out and took a hold of her arm, consciously fighting the knee-jerk reaction to sprout dozens of little spikes under the pressure of his fingers. She did not like being grabbed, nor did she like being led around like a little kid. But what could she do about it? Something in her gut told her that starting too much trouble with this particular individual was a very bad idea, though she was a little fuzzy on exactly why.

Their last encounter was infuriatingly hazy. She could remember what happened one minute, but the next she was thinking of something else, like her brain didn't want her to focus on him and why he made her so uncomfortable. It was frustrating, but only for a moment before she had to shrug it off and found something more interesting to occupy her attention. The details refused to stick in her mind and she had largely resigned herself to the notion that she may never be able to figure out what exactly it was they had done on their last job. All she knew was that it left a very bad taste in her mouth and a lingering feeling of dread at the mere thought of Zephyr.

"I want to go back to my room," she protested, rather more weakly than she liked as she was hauled through the Sanctuary's corridors, doing her best to keep up with his pace in her awkward position, though at the same time remaining reluctant to do so. Nothing good ever came of following him and him steering her though the building seemed very foreboding. "I didn't do anything wrong," she complained as they rounded a corner. And she hadn't, at least not yet. She has just been upset over the news. That was perfectly reasonable.

She was entirely puzzled when they finally approached their apparent destination. Why did he want her to go to the Training Room? She didn't want to fight anything anymore. She just wanted to go to her room. She hated fighting those holograms even when she did want to scuffle. They just weren't the same as fighting real people. "I don't want to go in there," she whined piteously, her heels starting to drag more the closer they got. "Leave me alone."

For all that he’d been on the Orders payroll for over a year now Zephyr was still a largely unknown entity within Sanctuary itself. This was due more to necessity than anything else; his work required a certain measure of… discretion, and being seen near the home of a number of infamously homicidal individuals was somewhat counterintuitive to such a goal. He’d found ways around it of course, but in the main it was normally more convenient to avoid the place altogether and meet elsewhere.

Those few residents within Sanctuary who could somehow put a name to his face likely only knew him as an occasional acquaintance of the owner, Miss Faust, or as a barely tolerated associate of Duskmoor, she hardly had any other kind after all. Certainly none the usual tenants had any real idea of his capabilities or standing in the Order, and quite honestly the elemental would have preferred to keep it that way.

Irritatingly however, whatever anonymity he’d enjoyed before today had likely been well and truly shot. While he’d done his best to avoid large groups, and tried to downplay the fact he was all but dragging Isabel along like a spoiled child, the annoying reality of the situation was that Isabel was likely close to twice his weight. It was only her fear of him that kept the girl moving, albeit reluctantly, and honestly that was worse than if she’d actually tried to fight.

At least if she’d been fighting the other residents likely wouldn’t have paid it much attention; from what the elemental could gather the soubrette threw tantrums on a fairly regular basis and the other Sanctuary occupants had largely learned to ignore and avoid her, which really would have been ideal right now.

Instead the girl was pale, close to shaking and her voice had taken on a quavering quality which would have echoed down the hallways like an untuned church bell if the hessian hadn’t made a conscious choice to muffle the sound. Even if he’d made the gamine relatively quiet though there was nothing he could do about her appearance and he caught more than a few people openly staring as he made his through the building and he could practically feel the whispers as they began to circulate.

Still it couldn’t be helped, the last thing the city needed at the moment was the wholesale slaughter of the NYPD, which was precisely what would have happened if he hadn’t stepped in. To Zephyr’s knowledge there were only three other individuals (or nine depending on how one counted) who could have dissuaded Duskmoor from yet another killing frenzy, however two (or eight) of them were known mutant zealots who would have done nothing but encourage the soubrette while the third likely didn't care enough to intervene.

Shaking his head at the pointlessness of it all Zephyr at last reached one of the few elevators within Sanctuary. Wasting no time, and heedless of the fact that it was little more than a cargo elevator, he unceremoniously bundled Duskmoor inside the moment the chain linked gate fell away and quickly had the device to descend. It was only when they reached the more desolate lower levels that he released his grip on the surrounding air and allowed Isabel’s voice to start echoing freely again, though he still turned a deaf ear to all of her complaints.

At least until they were right outside of the training room and the gamine belatedly began to dig in her heels as she continued her sulking protests. Not being in any mood to indulge soubrette, Zephyr used the little momentum he had to whip the girl round so that she was now between him and the training room.

“I told you not to fight me Duskmoor.”[/color] He spoke slowly even as his eyes narrowed dangerously and he took a short step forward. "Do not make me repeat myself, get inside before I lose my patience.”[/color]

---

The sanctuary Training room was a cross between a warehouse and the kind of hollow-deck that could have been pulled straight from a certain Sci-Fi series. When the technology wasn't running, such as now, the walls and floor were simple cold concrete with nothing but a few lights and a single observation come command center in the top right corner of the room.

The moment the Training room’s doors had closed behind them Zephyr wasted no time in locking them with an idle gesture and a single burst of wind as he quickly moved to keep the initiative in the conversation that was soon to become a lesson.

“Do you have any idea why I left you alone for so long Duskmoor?”[/color] He began slowly as he stalked to a nearby wall and leant against it. “It was because you’d been quiet; there hasn’t been a single report of a bone related killing for over a month, I looked.”[/color] He added the last almost as an afterthought as he continued to gaze down at her with an ill-tempered expression. “You were just starting to fade from the forefront of peoples minds, you were behaving, and so I left you alone… then this happened.”[/color]

Never taking his eyes off the brunette Zephyr drew his tablet out of his jacket and set it to once again play the video of a young mutant girl being beaten by New York City’s finest before tossing the slim screen to Isabel.

“Tell me Duskmoor, what exactly were you planning to do?”[/color]

A poorly lit cement room was not a place that Isabel wanted to be. A poorly lit cement room with a door that had been locked without a key was even worse. She loathed being behind locked doors unless she had been the one to lock them. Usually she was able to fashion a sort of skeleton key to let herself in or out of any room, but with a temperamental bag of hot air acting as a jailer, it probably wasn't the best idea to try it. It'd take longer to find the right shape and open the door than it would for him to get in her way.

She fidgeted uncomfortably and kept her distance from the thin figure that had taken a position against one of the walls. As depressing as the room was, the walls were infinitely better to look at than the rather ominous expression on his face. The jail-like room might have been tolerable had he not been in it with her.

His question didn't get any answer from her, though apparently he hadn't been looking for one. She didn't want to talk to him, or even acknowledge him if she could help it. No, she'd much rather readjust her suspenders and toy with the buttons on her shirt. She'd been pretty preoccupied over the past month or so. After she'd arrived home from the trip with Zephyr she'd spent some time holed up in her room or wandering around the Sanctuary in an attempt to recover from her physical and emotional exhaustion. And on top of that there had been that weird dream and resulting gathering of those involved that had held her attention for a while. The authorities just hadn't done much to bother her or grab her attention up until just a little while ago.

His second question went unanswered as had the first, though this time he seemed to actually want her to speak up instead of speaking rhetorically. She was afforded a little bit of time to put off answering him as a tablet was tossed her way. She'd just barely caught the movement out of the corner of her eye and had to scramble to catch the thing so it wouldn't end up bouncing off the floor. She knew what video he'd pulled up without having to really look at the screen, and so she didn't. She let the device hang in her hand down by her hip, not wanting to watch the pretty grey mutant get her face splattered on the pavement a second time.

"Nothing," she replied after a lengthy, somewhat awkward pause. Technically it wasn't a lie. Outside of finding some cops to skewer, she didn't exactly have anything planned out. She was just looking to blow off some steam in the best way she knew how. And it wasn't like they wouldn't have deserved it.

"I did wanna go back to my room, but then you decided to drag me around instead, so you're not really helping the situation." Being snarky probably wasn't the smartest idea at the moment, but some of her nerve was returning to her. Being in the Sanctuary made her a little more confident as the thought occurred to her. He couldn't be dumb enough to try anything rash in the building that housed the Order and what few friends Isabel had. They'd give her a hand if she called.

Watching the buxom brunette through narrowed eyes Zephyr allowed the silence to drag out as Duskmoor remained willfully silent, seemingly content to play with her clothing and resolutely ignore the tablet in her hand as she stared fixedly at the floor. On anyone else the behavior might have come across as timid or even chary, and for a brief moment the elemental considered the slim possibility that the girl might honestly be too scared to speak to him.

Then she opened her mouth.

Discourse was not one of the soubrettes strengths and, given her recalcitrant mind set, the jejune retort was far from unexpected. That didn’t make it any less annoying however, and for a few short seconds the elemental toyed with the idea of giving the gamine yet another lesson in manners before ultimately choosing to dismiss the notion for the time being. Tempting though the thought might have been, he’d placed the Promise on the girl precisely because he’d wanted to avoid wasting time beating her into submission whenever they met.

Just like now actually.

The realization gave Zephyr a moment’s pause and his expression lost a measure of its hostility as a trace of curiosity entered his gaze and he took a slow, deliberate, breath before reappraising the situation in front of him.

When he’d first set out to bind Duskmoor to him the elemental had originally intended to rely on the inherent compulsion within her Promise to, well… tame her to a degree. Because while it was quite possible to control someone through fear, it was far easier if they actually wanted to do what you said. If he’d waited another few months to hold this little confrontation he likely could have had the soubrette skipping by his side and literally eating out of his palm if he wanted.

Unfortunately he didn’t have another few months, that being said; even a partially developed compulsion would hold some sway over the gamines thoughts. Provided he didn’t propose anything too outlandish, and chose his words with care… he might just be able to pull it off without the girl being any the wiser.

First things first though, it never hurt to have a backup plan in place, nor a certain degree of privacy. Slinging his satchel from his shoulder to his main hand the elemental swiftly unzipped the bag and spent a brief moment toying with the contents, specifically a slender black box slightly smaller than a VCR. His hand moved with a practiced motion, flipping a number of the switches on the front panel and he spoke in a warning tone which echoed clearly through the room and disguised the initial hum the device made as it began to activate.

“I have very little patience for you right now Duskmoor. In fact I’m sorely tempted to repeat some of the lessons I’ve given you before.”[/color] He trailed off briefly as his hand drifted into another of the satchels compartments and he deftly palmed a small half circle of metal into his jacket pocket before continuing. “ However I’m going to give you a chance. I’m not asking for anything unreasonable. Just behave; don’t get angry with me, and tell me what you were going to do.”[/b]

As he was talking, the tablet in Isabel’s hand flashed from a crisp video image to a collection of static as though it were nothing more than a poorly tuned TV. The disturbance barely lasted more than a few seconds however and seemed to go completely unnoticed by the soubrette as the flood of black and white streaks was rapidly replaced by a simple error message before the device shut itself down without a sound.

Zephyr's 'lessons' weren't exactly easy to forget, however Isabel figured she was a little more prepared to deal with them this time around, especially since he insisted on using them as a threat. Kind of gave up any sort of surprise he might have caught her with. She was also still riding the building wave of confidence that came with just being in the Sanctuary and in such close proximity to the few people she trusted. Chances were at least one of them was in the building somewhere, and she'd get a hold of them one way or another if need be. It'd be easy enough to lie about why she needed the help if she did.

She crossed her arms and gave a huff as he continued to talk, effectively hiding the screen of the thin tablet as it rested partially against her ribs on one side. There wasn't anything on the screen that was going to hold her attention anyhow, so there was no need to monitor it. It was tempting to just drop the thing all together, but knowing Zephyr if she harmed it he might try to break it over her head or something. She'd rather not have any more of a headache than what he was already giving her.

"I already told you. Nothing," she insisted, heaving a heavy sigh as she did so. She didn't want to play these games with him. Whatever was going on with that gargoyle girl was way more important than some bossy windbag with control issues. Hell, it was the police and the media that had really gotten her ire up, Zephyr had simply stepped in at the worst possible time, as per usual. Really, he was more of an annoyance than anything else and she didn't want to stab him in the face quite so much as she thought she had at first.

"I was just gonna go out for a little walk around the block. It's all stuffy in this place when the TV explodes," she said, sounding as if it was all a big inconvenience for her. Really, the nerve of the television smoking up the place like it had. "I don't wanna have to listen to any of the other residents talking about this garbage, either," she continued, uncrossing her arms so she could toss the tablet back in his direction as he fussed around in his bag. "And I am behaving. I haven't tried to gouge your eyes out or look at your intestines or anything yet."

“I already told you. Nothing.”[/color]

“Try again Duskmoor, I know you better than that.” The elementals words were cold and came just short of disapproving as he caught the slight change in the soubrettes posture when she visibly relaxed; arms crossing beneath her chest and shoulders tilting back as she shifted her weight, utterly oblivious to the way the motion added to her already impressive curves even though it forced her gaze to move from her feet to a nearby wall.

"I was just gonna go out for a little walk around the block. It's all stuffy in this place when the TV explodes, I don’t wanna listen to any of the other residents talking about this garbage either."[/color]

“You’re a big girl Duskmoor, you can deal with it.”[/color] He replied slowly, his eyes tracing the shapely soubrettes figure for any tell-tale signs of lingering tension even as he bit back the smirk which threatened to cross his features as he noted the change in the girls tone. A few moment before her words had been increasingly brazen and insolent as she tried to hide her discomfort and apprehension. Now though, she sounded almost bored, or at worst mildly annoyed, and while it wasn’t an ideal change, it showed that the Promise’s influence was far from negligible.

He could work with that.

"…I am behaving. I haven't tried to gouge your eyes out or look at your intestines or anything yet."[/color]

Zephyr’s brow furrowed at her last words, but his attention was momentarily split as the girl threw the tablet back to him and he was forced to change its course in midair so that it landed easily in his free hand rather than striking his hip. Briefly checking the device for damage he deftly slid it into his satchel and then lowered the bag to the floor before returning his thoughts to the ingénues unexpected threat.

Although the words hadn’t contained the gamine’s usual venom it was clear that the bonemancer felt she was more than capable of following through with the threat; something she honestly had no right to believe given everything that had happened to her in Chicago. Granted he’d just told her not to be angry with him but that shouldn’t have given her false confidence, and fear should certainly still have been well within her grasp, it didn’t make-

‘Here you are Duskmoor, back home in one piece. Try and take it easy for a while and make sure you don’t dwell on what we did these past few days; it wasn’t important really.’[/color]

His own words suddenly came back to him with a mocking irony and he fought down a sudden scowl. He’d shared them with Isabel just before returning her to Sanctuary, counting on a combination of the Promise and the girls own exhaustion and desire to forget, to stop her realizing that the Promise she’d given was more than what it seemed. Judging by the blank look he was getting now though his efforts had been overly effective and apparently caused the girl to forget practically everything that had happened.

That would have to change. A compulsion was all well and good, but if she ‘knew’ she couldn’t kill him it would likely go a long ways towards avoiding physical altercations in the future.

“Do you really want to go there Duskmoor?”[/color] The elementals voice quickly fell to little more than a whisper, taking on a touch of malice and twisting unnaturally through the air until it seemed to come from behind the girl. “We can, but I promise you I won’t be as forgiving as I was in Chicago.”[/color] He let the words sink home as he stared the soubrette down, hoping it would be enough to stir the memory of her failed attempt on his life without recalling the promise he’d forced her into afterwards.

As the silent seconds ticked by though the gamine gave no sign of remembering and the hessian knew the brunette needed another, less subtle nudge and so he masked his annoyance with façade of dark amusement, tilting his head to one side and watching her through narrowed eyes as he chose his next words with care. “Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten already Duskmoor?”[/color] He asked, a slight smirk tugging at his lips. “You won’t remember what we said of course, but you must recall killing me and how things went after I… woke up.”[/color]

There it was. He could tell the moment recognition dawned on her as she suddenly stiffened and her expression swept through a number of different emotions; confusion, shock, denial, horror and finally fear as the memories came flooding back to her.

“Ah, so you do remember, that should make this much easier.”[/color] He gave the girl a knowing look before abruptly pushing away from the wall and taking a single step towards her and felt a slight amount of satisfaction when she immediately backed away. “Don’t worry Duskmoor, I’m not one to hold a grudge; as far as I’m concerned that particular… incident, is water under the bridge and I think we’d both prefer if it stayed that way, don’t you agree?”[/color] Not truly expecting a reply he nonetheless gave her a short smile as if she had concurred whole heartedly. He then began to slowly pace the room, circling round to the girls left before adding, almost as an afterthought. “It’s not the sort of thing you’d want to share with others.”[/color]


Zephyr then fell silent for a time, a contemplative expression etched across his features as he continued to slowly circle the buxom brunette, eying her up and down as though she were... well, not piece of meat, though his gaze might have lingered occasionally, but rather treating her as though she were some fascinating new toy, but always staying far beyond arms reach.

“Putting your Betrayal aside though, I actually came to talk about something else entirely.”[/color] He announced as he at last came to a halt right in front of her no more than four feet away. “I’d thought of making this your first lesson in politics,”[/color] He continued almost conversationally, withdrawing what appeared to be a small mint tin from his jacket pocket before deftly swallowing two small capsules that were most certainly not mints. “Looking at you now though, I can’t help but feel that your attention is somewhat… divided.”[/color]

The elemental drew out the last word slightly as he took a few short steps to the right, grinning briefly when the brunette quickly turned to keep him in view. “So, in lieu of that then, I’ll give you the abridged version and we shall work from there, provided you listen and do as I say, it should be sufficient.”[/color]

“Despite what you may believe Duskmoor, the NYPD are not utterly incompetent; they are well aware of public opinion over their latest bout of police brutality and they certainly know what your initial reaction to it would be and it’s the reason there are at least four patrol cars watching this place.” As he spoke Zephyr's voice lost its casual cadence, instead growing increasingly serious as he folded his arms and used what little height he had over the girl to look down on her as he went on.

“If you step outside today, no matter how many of them you kill, you’ll be playing right into their hands. Do you know what they’re saying about that little grey girl? They’re calling her another Duskmoor in the making; that the streets are all the safer because the police stopped the rise of another mutant killer.”[/color] The elemental paused for a moment, catching his breath and quickly going over his next words before striding straight up to brunette until she had nowhere to retreat.

“Her name hasn’t even been released yet but she’s already been tarred with you because you’re the only justification the police have. If you go out there now you’ll not only justify their actions, you'll give them cause to attack even more mutants.”[/color] He stared hard at the girl, forcing her to meet his eye before he finally finished.

“You’ve already put one mutant child in the hospital Isabel, do you really want to add more?”[/color]

---

((OOC: I realize there's a fair amount of godmodding going on here so if you have any issues with what I've done please don't hesitate to tell me.))

Isabel had to roll her eyes as the answer she gave was yet again dismissed. If he knew her so damn well maybe he should stop asking such stupid questions. If he know what she had loosely planned on doing, then why ask at all? It wasn't like she was going to give him a straight answer. It's not like she ever really had with any of the other stupid questions he always asked.

She heaved another sigh as he continued to make his thinly veiled threats and the way he sort of chided her like she was a little girl. She was getting very tired of his stupid games and those dumb looks he kept giving her as if his glaring was going to do anything or make her adjust her attitude. She knew the tricks he seemed to favor using when he was scolding her for whatever behavior of hers he didn't like. He always went for treating her like a little kid and trying to embarrass her so she'd clam up and behave for a little while. If she knew that then she should have a better chance of countering them or at least force herself not to seize up and stand there like an idiot, cheeks ablaze. She needed to practice making herself more immune to his nonsense.

She wasn't so sure why he was bringing up their Chicago outing, either. The trip had been so damn boring that she couldn't remember a damn thing that had happened. She'd probably slept for twenty straight hours after she'd been dropped back off at the Sanctuary so she figured he must have had her jumping through any number of his usual hoops to off whatever guy he'd targeted for her to be that tired, but once she'd woken up she just couldn't have been bothered thinking about the excursion. It just wasn't interesting, but then none of the people she killed ever really were.

She was just about the open her mouth with another smartass comment as he continued to yammer on when suddenly their trip became irresistibly interesting and it took nearly all her willpower to keep an eye on the young man while her mind was tangled up in the memories that were all rising back to the surface and demanding her attention.

She had killed him. She'd stabbed him right in the chest. Heart, lungs, something. She had to have hit something. There was just no way someone could have survived an injury like that. She'd seen the hole she'd left in his body. Something had to have been damaged. She'd even had his body stuffed into a car and dragged into some mob boss's office without incident. And then he'd just stood up and took over, as if nothing had happened. He just stood up and he went after her with a vengeance and she had lost.

Panic, pain, terror, there just didn't seem to be adequate enough weight to the words that would have described how she had felt during the ordeal, nor quite how she was feeling after she'd been reminded. How the hell had she not been able to remember that incident? She couldn't possibly have repressed the memory that quickly, could she? She'd never been in the habit of forgetting such things before. She wasn't the type to forgive and forget. She'd always tended toward fester and revenge. But how could she possibly get revenge on someone that she couldn't kill? It could have been a fluke, but who one earth could have survived getting their heart staked?

Of course she wouldn't want to tell anyone else about what had happened. It was so humiliating. How could someone of her reputation have been put down so quickly and so easily? How could someone who could eviscerate a person without blinking have lost her nerve at the sight of a standing corpse? She'd been so powerless, so scared, there was no way she'd ever admit that to anyone. She might very well die of embarrassment and shame if anyone knew.

As hard as it was to keep herself from drowning in the rush of recollection, her attention snapped to the present fairly quickly when her brain registered that the young man had moved toward her. Instinctively she took a step backward, her usual unseen defenses immediately forming beneath her skin as she did so. She couldn't let herself sink beneath the weight of that memory when the person who had caused so much pain was there in the present, circling and eying her like a cat would a mouse.

She tried her best not to let him get behind her where she'd be unable to see him, turning her body on the spot as he strolled around her and fighting to keep her mind where it should be and not on the past. She didn't like how he was treating her, nor the way he was looking her up and down. It made a shiver race up her spine unpleasantly.

It was difficult to absorb what he was saying after the subject changed rather abruptly, but it was better than thinking about what had happened between the two of them a month prior and so she eagerly latched on to the new topic despite the nagging unpleasantness that continued to try and push itself to the forefront of her mind. She'd forgotten it before, she was sure she could at least get it under control for the time being.

She hadn't known there were police cruisers watching the Sanctuary, though probably have figured it out as soon as she'd walked through the doors. They'd have been an easy enough target once spotted. Like sitting ducks. Or bait, as was being suggested.

"What they did isn't my fault," she protested, rather proud of the fact that she'd managed to speak strongly enough to keep her voice from shaking. "I've been good lately. I haven't gone out and killed anyone in practically forever. They're just using my name because it's a big buzz word in the media. Nobody goes around killing other mutants because of me. They do it because they hate us, because they're afraid of us, and they should be." Just because she was one mutant who didn't stand for that sort of action against her kind didn't mean she was the reason that cops went around beating people without just cause. It happened all the time without any mention of her name.

Outside of the weird dream that so many people seemed to have shared, Isabel didn't know Gina. She was just some do-gooder pest that swung a shovel at the Amazons at the Sheriff's request. She certainly hadn't seen any news pieces about a shovel-wielding gargoyle in recent times, though there wouldn't be any connection made in the present anyway. Humans hadn't survived like the mutants had and she was willing to bet those cops were humans and wouldn't have any reason to hold a grudge against Gina and zero evidence to link the two women together.

She'd been so busy thinking, arguing and trying to keep that scrawny body in her line of sight that she hadn't even realized that Zephyr had been corralling her into one section of the training room to leave her little room for maneuvering or getting away from him. He was much too close for her liking. She wanted to keep far away from him. It was hard not to remember the feeling of his fingers on her skin the last time he'd been very close to her and the memory made her flesh crawl. She didn't want to allow him to have the opportunity a second time. But what could she do? She pressed her back against the wall to leave less of her body open for any potential assault and tried to avoid meeting his gaze, not wanting to see whatever manner he was appraising her with to match his scolding tone. And yet at the same time she couldn't stop herself. Eventually she had to meet his gaze, even if just to see if he was simply toying with her again.

"It's not my fault," she repeated, though she didn't sound quite as confident as before. It was getting harder to argue the reasoning he was applying to his accusations. The room was starting to feel very small as she was cornered. She felt suffocated and trapped. She wanted desperately to get out. "It's not me, it's them! They did it! I had nothing to do with what they did. I don't even know that girl, so there's no reason to put my name on her. They're looking for any excuse they can find to be awful to us and I'm an easy answer. It isn't my fault!" She reached out to give him a shove with her final protest, wanting nothing more than to get away from him, to put some space between their bodies and be able to breathe. She wanted out and she wanted it immediately.

“Not your fault?”[/color] He repeated, cold disdain evident in his voice as he slipped to one side, allowing the gamine’s out stretched hand to sail past him and causing her to stumble at the unexpected lack of resistance. “Don’t be so naïve.”[/color] Catching her wrist while she was still off balance he pulled her further forward, forcing her to continue the motion and effectively throwing her to the floor when her feet failed to keep up and thus lending credence to the age old axiom of brains vs brawn.

It was almost sad really; on the surface of things Duskmoor should have been able to take him apart the moment he was within arm’s reach. She possessed a lethal mutation was stronger, faster and had a body count which rivaled some minor wars. Those who got too close for comfort tended to learn rather quickly that the brunette had a rather literal meaning of the term ‘unarmed’ and were generally considered lucky if they walked away with more than two limbs, let alone kept breathing.

Offsetting all of these advantages however was the simple fact the girl was predictable. In almost any confrontation one cared to name the girl had won by simply charging head first and relying on her mutation to act as both offense and defense. In this particular instance both her stance and the bearing of her shoulders had served to telegraph the ingénues movements quite nicely and given the elemental ample time to redirect her momentum all because he’d known what to expect

“How many people have you killed Duskmoor?”[/color]He let the question hang in the air, as the shapely soubrette scrambled to her feet and tried to increase the distance between them. “How many families have you broken? How many widows have you left behind and how many children have you turned to orphans?”[/color]

As he spoke the string of accusations began to take on subtle tempo, the rhythm punctuated by measured steps as the elemental began bearing down on the girl, forcing the buxom brunette to continue back to maintain the distance.

“You’ve taken away friends and fathers, mothers and brothers, daughters and sisters and sons… and there’s not a single thing they can do to you.”[/color] Zephyr let his voice fall to an almost scornful whisper, stopping when Isabel was less than a foot away from one of the room’s side walls. “Have you any idea how much they must hate you? Or how easy it is act on that hate for anyone even slightly like you?” [/color]

“No? You should, you’ve been doing for it years.”

Well, Isabel had managed to get herself away from the wall, though it wasn't exactly in the manner she had anticipated. One of her hands and her knees stung from their impact with the ground, her other hand only having been spared the same dull pain by the fact that Zephyr's hand had been wrapped around her wrist as she'd been swung to the ground. She paid little mind to the small aches, though, being much more concerned with getting back on her feet and swinging around to face the young man again even as she struggled to keep more than an arm's length away from him.

"I don't care," she spat in reply to his question. She'd probably killed hundreds of people by that point in time. She'd been harming others since she was very young and had allowed it to escalate from there in her teen years while hormones were raging and her temper was at an all time high. Finding and joining the Order had allowed her to continue maiming and murdering whenever she liked and in even greater number, especially on the missions they had embarked on. Hell, just living in the Sanctuary gave her a good enough excuse to continue doing as she pleased. She always had a safe place to retreat to so long as it was standing and she had allies within its walls.

"I don't care!" she repeated more forcefully as he continued to press her for her crimes, largely unaware that he seemed to be herding her toward yet another wall. She'd gotten away from the first one, she could probably wriggle away if it happened again. "I don't care if they hate me. I hate them, too. I hate everyone. I don't care if they want me dead. They can't do anything about it, just like you said. I don't give a damn how many people I hurt or kill. Humans are nothing but an infestation and I'm working to fix that problem. What do I care what hey feel? Why should I?"

"It's not my fault if those people are too stupid to figure out which of us they should be worried about. Maybe if they stopped beating harmless mutants they wouldn't have so much trouble with the rest of us. They're bringing this down on themselves." And of that she was thoroughly convinced. Isabel had never really taken responsibility for her actions and she didn't plan on doing so now. As far as she saw it humans were nothing but vermin that lashed out at anything they didn't understand. So long as the world bent in their favor, she'd be working to lower their population and even the score. They were acting and she was reacting. Everything was self defense if one were to look at it from the right angle.

As she paused in her small rant her attention was drawn down to her wrist as something trickled over her hand and down her fingers. Apparently she'd stabbed Zephyr's hand when it had closed around her wrist a moment before, though she hadn't meant to do so. It had become a sort of defensive habit to spear any extremities that someone attempted to detain her with, so much so that she hadn't even realized that she'd done so to the one person she was trying to avoid too much conflict with.

She couldn't help but grin, a slight laugh escaping her. She'd heard the phrase 'if it bleeds we can kill it' before. Even if someone were seemingly unbeatable, if they lost enough blood they should be in trouble. The only problem with that in this particular situation was that she'd left a gaping hole in Zephyr's chest and he'd managed to survive. If blood loss were a danger to him, he should have stayed a corpse. And if bodily mutilation were a problem for him he probably would have already realized that his hand had been mangled.

Speaking of Zephyr, her attention snapped back to him and away from her red streaked hand and torn sleeve, her smile fading rapidly. Once he did realize what had happened it probably wouldn't be pretty, if only for the principle of the thing. She really didn't want him to play an eye for an eye because of an accident. "Oops..."

Zephyr folded his arms and stared down at Duskmoor with hard eyes as the girl scrambled to her feet, hurriedly backing away from him and all but screaming her defense of her innocence. Her gaze held a mixture of terror and defiance as she worked herself into another corner, and while the hessian was perfectly capable of working with the former emotion, the latter was causing him no end of irritation.

Perhaps a certain measure of force was called for after all. He wasn’t fond of the idea needless to say; resorting to violence without any appropriate provocation implied a certain lack of ingenuity and it would also ruin the ‘harsh but fair’ image he’d been trying to build with the buxom brunette. That being said, if he caught her off guard he could probably break one of the girls bones if he put his mind to it and the resulting shock would likely-

He paused as he caught site of a circlet of spikes jutting from the gamines right wrist, barely more than half an inch in length each one bore a wicked hook he couldn’t see so much as feel as the girls arm swayed through the stale air. What he could see however was the dark coat of crimson which covered each barb and dripped into a steadily growing stain that trailed over the dull grey cement that unerringly led the elementals gaze back to the source of the spilt blood.

His own hand.

Zephyr’s entire bearing froze as he caught sight of the mangled limb, an expression of silent shock settling across his features as his eyes swept over the shredded flesh of his palm and the streams of scarlet which leaked down his fingers. Fingers which refused to do more than twitch when he slowly lifted his arm and tried to form a fist, an effort which resulted in already torn muscles ripping even further to reveal chalk white patches of bone which should have sent blinding flares of agony shooting across his vision, and yet…

He didn’t feel a thing.

No, that wasn’t quite true, now that he knew the damage was there Zephyr realized he could feel a dull burning pain at the back of his thoughts, as thought his skin had been rubbed raw and then frozen until it was nearly numb. It was a completely unnatural sensation, though given that the alternative likely would have left him in a pain induced coma, the hessian wasn’t about to argue. He would however be making a rather generous donation to his pharmacists, how did the man describe it? Ah yes, his triple U* retirement fund. Whatever the old skeleton had put in the hessians latest dose of medication, it was clearly worth every penny.

That being said, Zephyr knew all too well that his painkillers were a double edged sword. While they might allow him to ignore what would normally have been a crippling wound, that didn’t mean it wasn’t still dangerous. The body felt pain for a reason; you couldn’t treat a wound you didn’t know existed and while his mangled hand might not be lethal in of itself, the associated blood loss would be more than enough to end him if he left it unchecked.

‘Oops’[/color]

The single word broke the elementals train of thought and his cobalt gaze snapped back to Duskmoor to find the shapely soubrette staring back at him with a mixture of glee and growing apprehension that all too easy to read. It was the look of one who’d just poked a sleeping lion and was only just beginning to realize that the cage wasn’t locked. The look of one who’d drawn a gun in a knife fight only to find it wasn’t loaded.

In short, it was the look of a girl who was about to deeply regret her transgressions. The fragile authority he had over the soubrette right now was just that, fragile. Any show of weakness on his part would only serve to feed the girls already bloated sense of hubris and likely unravel a good deal of the effort he’d put into bringing the girl to heel.

In an ideal world, or even one just three months later, Zephyr could have simply ordered the girl to slap herself repeatedly or run laps until she collapsed and the emerald tattoo across her midriff would have enforced the punishment for him. Unfortunately that wasn’t an option at the present time. The mere fact that girl had managed to hurt him to the degree she had made it evident that the compulsion had yet to fully sink in. Without its influence the hessian would need to rely on the crude but classic methods of intimidation and brute force to keep the girl in line.

Before that though, there was the slight matter of his hand.

Never shifting his gaze from Duskmoors face Zephyr slowly raised his mangled hand until the bloodied limb was stretched between them at eye level. Then, almost casually, he began to turn his wrist; first one way then the other, letting the brunette see the damage she’d inflicted before he spoke in a deceptively idle one.

“I must admit I’m rather disappointed.”[/color] He stated, leaving his hand to rest palm up, perpendicular to the floor, almost as though he were admiring a new ring even as he adjusted his posture and left a foot resting in his blood. A handful of moments passed in silence before he began again. “I thought we’d dealt with this already, apparently I need to repeat myself.[/color]

Even before Zephyr had finished speaking, his outstretched had begun to change; losing colour and substance at a rapid pace as the bonds between blood, flesh and bone unraveled and scattered as the elemental bent his power to the task.

Healing is hard. No matter what advantage one might have at their disposal, be it a medical degree or a particularly versatile mutation, the human body is one of the complex creations in existence and repairing it takes both effort and concentration because the only thing worse than not healing an injury was healing it improperly; something Zephyr actually knew from experience having once accidently fused his hand to another air elemental. Extricating himself had not been a simple matter.

Still, a number of years had passed since that point and the hessian had learned a thing or two. Even as he watched the colour drained away from his hand as it lost substance, fading away to little more than a vaporous silhouette before even that vague shaped unfurled into whirling tendrils of mist. They coiled and twined about themselves in an almost chaotic fashion, occasionally gaining subtle shades of iridescence as it mixed with pale crimson fumes rising from the freshly spilt blood around the elementals foot.

Almost as quickly as it had begun, it ended. The writhing threads of smoke collapsed in upon one another in a hectic wave of motion as strands of flesh and bone rapidly wove themselves back into existence atop the raw stump of his injured arm until he was left staring at the blemished skin of his reformed right hand.

“Good as new.”[/color] Zephyr’s voice was absent, almost distracted, as he made a short show of flexing each of his fingers in front of Isabel before he abruptly formed a fist and his cold cobalt gaze fixed on the brunettes own amber eyes.

“You can’t kill me Duskmoor.”[/color] The words were uttered in a tone of cold finality, each one drawn out slowly and deliberately as he stared the girl down. “You learned that in Chicago, you said you’d never harm me again.”[/color] He relaxed his fist, stretching his fingers once again to show the soubrette the futility of her efforts before his hand flexed into another familiar gesture.

“I dislike liars.”[/color]

He snapped his fingers and all of the pressure he’d been quietly building around Duskmoor as he’d stalled for time surged into action; invisible strands of air solidified into insidious shackles which snaked across the shapely soubrettes limbs before suddenly snapping taut and hurling her towards the far wall of the chamber by her wrists.

She was long overdue for a crash course in restraint.

--

* = Unspoken, unreported, untaxed.

As the kind of person that regularly caused injury or death in others, Isabel was used to all kinds of verbal and physical reactions whenever blood was spilled. People tended to react very poorly when they saw that red substance, particularly if it belonged to them. Quiet shock happened every now an again, but it was almost always quickly replaced by screaming or cursing or both. A young man who had just had his hand mangled should not have remained so quiet for so long.

The barbed spikes that circled her wrist quickly sank back out of sight as she eyed Zephyr, the temporary weapons melting back into the unseen defenses beneath her skin. The opposite hand lifted to worry at the torn and bloodies fabric around the offending wrist as the young man's mangled hand was lifted and displayed, most likely more for her to see than for its owner. He did tend to have a bit of a flair for the dramatic whenever he wanted to get a point across. Those dramatics usually weren't just for show, though.

He stated his disappointment and she distracted herself with watching the blood from his hand run across his wrist or drip onto the floor so she wouldn't have to try and decode the expression on his face. He was far better at masking his emotions than she was. She'd have preferred it if his face were more expressive. A blank expression was worrying and on him somehow it always looked dangerous and foreboding. She'd much prefer it if he'd yell. She could yell right back at him if that were the case. As it was, she had very little to work with in the silence until she could get her voice to work and suppress the cold tingling rising up her spine.

Even if she had managed to voice any sort of protest, it would have died before it had gained any steam at the sight of what he was doing next. Suddenly she understood why her first attack on him hadn't worked out. On top of everything he could already do, the bastard was also a healer. It was a good thing she'd been adamantly watching his hand instead of his face or she might have missed the first few seconds as the thing seemed to unravel into almost nothingness before materializing again out of thin air, whole and unharmed.

She'd already worked out for herself that killing him was probably highly unlikely, though that wasn't to say she hadn't planned on trying it one more time or two to test that theory up until this point. She had to take his word on the promise she supposedly issued. She couldn't remember any kind of verbal exchange they'd had in Chicago, just the series of unpleasant actions throughout that hellish day.

And it wasn't like she'd done it on purpose or anything. He'd grabbed her and her body had reacted. If anything he should have known better. He'd gotten stabbed in Chicago the same way. So really, it was his own damn fault, not hers. He acted all high and mighty and yet couldn't even work out a simple problem like that.

She started to open her mouth to say just that, though probably with a bit of a quiver in her voice, when she was abruptly interrupted. A sudden pressure had clamped down on both her wrists, and though the same defenses that had mangled Zephyr's hand reacted once again, there was nowhere for the little barbs to go. The tips of the spikes could just barely poke through her skin in a number of places, but they couldn't get any further than that due to the unseen barrier blocking their progress.

Her attention snapped away from the young man and back to her own limbs, but she was left no time to try and work out what it was that had accosted her before she was hoisted like a rag doll across the room to the opposite wall.

Shocked and a little dizzy by the sudden movement she struggled momentarily to get her feet back under her. Normal restraints were a cinch to get out of with her abilities. There was no lock she'd come across yet that could stand up to her. She could fashion nearly any sort of key needed to overcome the barrier. Invisible cuffs, however, weren't something she'd ever had to deal with before and as such she was at a bit of a loss as to how to get out of them.

"I didn't mean to do it," she protested, having finally found her voice and a moment to speak. She tugged experimentally at whatever it was that had her wrists in a vice-like grip, testing to see if anything would give or if she could somehow wriggle loose, though it seemed to be of no avail. Panic was slowly starting to rise as she seemed to be stuck fast. She was trying very hard not to show it, though.

"You grabbed me! It's just what happens when people grab me. I didn't do it on purpose. It's your own damn fault!" she spat, doing her best to keep any quaver out of her voice and to rely on her temper and her stubborn nature instead of dissolving into the fear that was gradually trying to overtake her, as it had done on their last mission together. She was still betting on their location giving her some kind of safety. She didn't think he'd dare try to do her any real harm inside the Sanctuary, and she'd cling to that belief as long as she was able.

“I didn’t mean to do it”[/color] The paltry excuse echoed briefly across the room as the gamine scrambled to get her feet beneath her, the words leaving her lips before she even had a chance to think. It was an almost reflexive habit that Zephyr had come to notice with increasing frequency of late; accuse the girl of something, or even pay her complement, and the soubrette would immediately deny or otherwise try to discredit the statement.

In the past it had been somewhat entertaining trait and the hessian had almost considered it a game of sorts; provoking the ingénue into denying one thing and twisting it so that she inadvertently admitted to another. It had been amusing, a welcome distraction during more tedious tasks. Now though, it only served to aggravate him.

“Cause and effect Duskmoor.”[/color] The elementals voice was cold, almost matter of fact, as he lowered his hand and began to stalk towards her. “Accidental or not, your actions have… consequences”. [/color]

"You grabbed me! It's just what happens when people grab me. I didn't do it on purpose. It's your own damn fault!"[/color]

Without waiting for the girl to finish her jejune tirade Zephyr quietly extended the fingers of his healed hand, stretching them outwards in a motion which was immediately mirrored by the soubrette’s restraints as her arms snapped outwards at a ninety degree angle perpendicular to the floor, forcing her into a crude cross. She stayed that way for perhaps a handful of seconds, alternately struggling and cursing as her limbs were pulled to their limits until her wrists were abruptly hauled upwards, leaving her legs flailing wildly for a few moments as her feet frantically sought purchase on the floor two feet away before she began to gasp.

Crucifixion was an art older than time immemorial. Largely renowned for its part in the death of a pseudo religious figure, the actual science involved was actually quite advanced for its time. By nailing the victims’ feet to the length of the cross it becomes exceedingly painful for them to stand. At the same time however, if they allow themselves to hang from their impaled wrists the pose stretches the muscles of the diaphragm thereby making it impossible to exhale. This thereby forced the victim to shift their weight to feet in order to breathe until the pain once again caused them to hang from the wrists in a self-sustaining cycle of suffering.


Still, Duskmoor wasn’t truly crucified; her legs had been largely left alone and if she’d actually retained the presence of mind to think instead of panicking she could have used her mutation to anchor herself to the floor or wall, thereby lifting the weight from her ribs and allowing her to breathe again. Instead, his restraints had caused the brunette to panic and waste what little air she had thrashing against her bonds.

If he hadn’t been quite so displeased with her the sight would actually have been rather depressing. As it was though he simply watched her struggles dwindle as she lost strength, until her feet eventually stopped moving and hung lifelessly beneath her just as her collapsed atop her chest and she finally fell silent.

Then he dropped her.

She fell to the ground like a ragdoll, legs folding under her as her right hip took the brunt of the impact and she lay sprawled across the concrete floor. Barely a second later her entire body jerked as she took a desperate gasp of air, filling her lungs to capacity and causing her breasts to heave as she frantically repeated the motion.

“I’m only going to say this once Duskmoor so stop fighting me, stop hating me and listen.”[/color] The elementals words were calm but they held an undertone of steel as he came to a stop beside the fallen soubrette and knelt down to her.

“I don’t care who provoked you or what your intentions were. You are responsible for your actions, no one else.”[/color] Zephyr’s hand reach out, grasping the soubrettes strained shirt just beneath the collar as he dragged her to her knees before he spoke again. “ If you step out of line Duskmoor I will find you and what I do to you will make what’s happened here pale in comparison. Do you understand?” [/color]

He waited briefly for her response before continuing in a somewhat lighter tone. “Good, I’ll hold you to that Isabel, though it is good to see you’ve made some progress already.”[/color] Seeing the look of confusion cross her features, the hessian couldn’t prevent the slight smirk which tugged at his lips as he drew the girls eyes down to where he was still holding her shirt. “ “It appears I still have all my fingers, your control must be better than you thought.” [/color]

Left completely unsaid was the fact that his rough treatment of the fabric had caused the cotton to stretch somewhat and a button or two to come loose, causing the shirt to fall open slightly in the elementals grip so that it granted a clear view of the rather generous curves the brunette had beneath. Curves which, Zephyr noted in a purely detached fashion, were far more pleasant when they weren’t covered in thorns.

Deciding that it would be immensely unwise to let the girl dwell over the view he had Zephyr quickly brought her attention back to him as he spoke again in a more serious tone. ““Now then, shall we discuss your… homework?”[/color]

Zephyr apparently wasn't any more receptive to accepting blame than Isabel was. All the cause and effect nonsense he was talking was sort of hypocritical, since the injury he'd sustained was the effect of him grabbing her. And yet she was the one being scolded for a subconscious action that he'd set in motion. He really was a bastard.

Of course she wasn't given any sort of opportunity to voice such observations, as seemed to be becoming the norm when dealing with the tyrant. All such thoughts were entirely forgotten as her feet, which she'd only just managed to get back under her, left the ground as she was hoisted up into the air by the damned restraints that had clamped around her wrists.

She very much disliked the feeling of being removed from the ground so abruptly, almost as much as she disliked the sensation of the force around her wrists trying to pull her arms out of their sockets. The joint itself might not suffer much, but she couldn't say the same for her muscles either around her shoulders or at her wrists. She was sure she'd have bruises forming around her wrists before the next day.

However, such worries weren't nearly as important as her sudden inability to breathe as the damn restraints forced her arms to move yet again, this time above her head. Had she been in the mindset, she might have taken note of the technique. It would be incredibly easy to replicate and test out on someone else in the future, should she feel the need to. Unfortunately she was not in such a mindset. She was much more concerned with trying to wrench her hands away from the pressure that trapped them and find a way to fill her lungs with air again.

Suffocation was not something new when it came to dealing with Zephyr. It seemed to be a bit of a favorite parlor trick for him if he was really trying to get a point across. He hadn't ever seemed quite so menacing the couple of other times he'd demonstrated such a skill for her, though. She was trying to keep an eye on him, not wanting him to stroll over and get any closer while she was preoccupied, but focusing on anything but an escape was increasingly difficult.

The seconds ticked by like hours as she fought to free herself, her muscles rapidly fatiguing with the oxygen deprivation. The rising sense of panic was reaching its peak and any belief that the Sanctuary would protect her simply because she was existing within it was rapidly fading away. Her vision was all but eaten away by spots of blackness and she'd become too tired to even hold her head up any longer.

And then she was weightless, but only briefly before a sharp pain shot through her hip, though it was largely overshadowed by the desperate need to fill her lungs with air again and again for as long as she was able. Her head lolled to one side as a rather distant-sounding voice reached her, her vision gradually coming back to allow her to see the legs striding in her direction and kneeling down a little too close for comfort.

Her body gave a weak, defensive jerk as the young man's hand reached out and gathered a section of her shirt between his fingers as a means of hoisting her up into more or less a kneeling position. Her shirt felt uncomfortably tight and constraining, particularly after the ordeal she'd just went through, but she couldn't find the strength to pry at his fingers for release. Heart hammering and chest still heaving, she was busy staring wide-eyed at his stony expression and trying to comprehend whatever it was he was saying to her. Even if her hands weren't full of pins and needles and she could have gotten a good grip on him, she didn't think she could have done much. She just wasn't up for trying to put up a fight anymore.

She didn't have much of a desire to figure out what his twisted little mind could cook up to torment her with. Suffocation was quite enough for one day and she wasn't so keen on pushing his buttons much more when she was sealed up in an isolated chamber with the madman. She'd feel much better doing so if she was somewhere she could be heard or seen.

She gave a weak nod in response to his question, unable to find her voice and somewhat preoccupied with searching his face to see if he gave anything away, anything that could lead her to the conclusion that it was largely a bluff, but as she'd noted before he was much better at masking his intentions than she was.

The mention of his fingers was mildly surprising. Part of her wished that they would have been severed when he'd grabbed her, but a larger part of her knew that it wouldn't have turned out well for her if they had. Maybe because he'd grabbed her shirt this time instead of her body her subconscious defenses had remained largely at rest, or maybe on the opposite end of the spectrum that unintentional reaction had been quashed after his latest assault upon her person. Survival instincts could be a strong force to recon with, though hers had apparently taken a less volatile turn for the moment.

Gradually the strength and feeling was coming back into her limbs and her body was relying a little more on itself and less on the grip of the hand on her shirt to keep her up on her knees as he held her rapt attention. Slowly she leaned back a little as he spoke again, trying to get as much distance as she possibly could between him and herself while he was still holding onto her shirt, even if it caused the fabric to continue straining uncomfortably. "Homework?" she asked warily, her voice somewhat hushed and hoarse. "But I don't... can't I just go? I wanna go. I wanna be left alone."