[It happens so quickly, Sonya can hardly keep up with it.
One moment she's staring down the god Duma himself (and more importantly Jedah, the rat), and the next... nothing. Just an outstretched hand, a voice echoing around her ears, and the soft grass of this unfamiliar area.
And for a minute there, Sonya does... nothing. Crumpled on the ground, her hair drawing a dark curtain around her face, her elegant fingers clenching so hard at the grass that the blades are pulled up from the dirt, Sonya remains motionless.
What is she doing here when she was so close to finally avenging her sisters?
So close. So close. So close so close so close.
No. There are people here. She has to get it together. No vulnerability.
Hair still hiding her face from any prying eyes, Sonya takes a deep breath and forces out a steady voice.]
Well, thanks for getting little old me out of whatever mess that was, but I have to wonder about the criteria. Not that I'm complaining, mind you, but wouldn't someone have wanted the little princess instead?
[Or all those nobles? Or that little boy prince Celica was so fond of? There were plenty of high-standing individuals in that ragtag army, so going for the magical mercenary seems just a bit odd to her.]
[It's been long enough for Sonya to come to terms with her situation now. She's here now, after all, and it wasn't the first time she's had to box up her emotions about the situation in order to focus on adaptation and survival.
In fact, that's all her life ever was.
But as far as situations go, this was definitely more comfortable than what she was used to. Odd, sure. But comfortable.
So she's thoroughly put out when her test of initiation is such a mundane, sweaty job.
Climbing mountains. Sure, she's made worse treks than this. But it doesn't mean she enjoys doing it.
Sonya wrinkles her nose at the items before her before looking over to her partner.]
What do you think, Miss Veteran? Speed or safety?
[She'd rather get it over with, personally.]
C. DANCER CABIN
[Camping. Camping.
They take her out of an apocalypse scenario, toss her up a mountain, and then make her go camping.
Or so she thought, anyway. Those cabins? Nearly as comfortable as your average villager home back in Valentia. And those beds? Definitely more comfortable.
All in all, maybe not ideal, but a far cry from the camping she was expecting. She's been stationed in way shoddier places than this.
Sonya's languidly relaxed on one of the beds by the time someone else comes in, and the only think she does is look over to the door with a raised eyebrow.]
Guessing you're one of my fellow performers?
[The Bureau needs to give Sonya her spells back, the monsters.]
D. GENTLE PUNCHING CLUB
[Welp. Sonya lost all her spells except for some meager fire magic, and she's not pleased with it. Much to her chagrin, she knows she's going to have to start training like she was built for muscles and not magic.
Ugh.
She doesn't look enthused as she eyeballs the arena, and she looks even less enthused when she holds up what they expect her to spar with.]
I'm not wearing these.
E. FIELD DAY
[Honestly, this is more her style. Maybe a little childish, sure, but no one said she had to take part in whatever didn't interest her.
So Sonya's having her own fun instead, testing out her Allure ability. A wink, a smile, a blown kiss, and all she'll ask for is some company to the next booth.
Do you go along?]
F. OVERNIGHT SENSATION
[Sonya's been painting in green since the the arts and crafts were introduced to them, really, but she pays it no mind. Aside from wishing she had a nicer color (gold, maybe. Or purple), Sonya has a good time painting the most frivolous things she can think of.
Green flowers. Green trees. Green suns. Nothing out of the ordinary.
It's... the next day, that's a problem, when all she can do is paint the sad, empty husks that she remembered of her sisters.
The first painting was torn from the easel, crumpled and thrown in the corner before she had time to think about it. And the second.
But it's by the third that she seems to have given up, looking at the half-finished, green painting of two eerily beautiful women with an unreadable expression.]
no subject
[It happens so quickly, Sonya can hardly keep up with it.
One moment she's staring down the god Duma himself (and more importantly Jedah, the rat), and the next... nothing. Just an outstretched hand, a voice echoing around her ears, and the soft grass of this unfamiliar area.
And for a minute there, Sonya does... nothing. Crumpled on the ground, her hair drawing a dark curtain around her face, her elegant fingers clenching so hard at the grass that the blades are pulled up from the dirt, Sonya remains motionless.
What is she doing here when she was so close to finally avenging her sisters?
So close. So close. So close so close so close.
No. There are people here. She has to get it together. No vulnerability.
Hair still hiding her face from any prying eyes, Sonya takes a deep breath and forces out a steady voice.]
Well, thanks for getting little old me out of whatever mess that was, but I have to wonder about the criteria. Not that I'm complaining, mind you, but wouldn't someone have wanted the little princess instead?
[Or all those nobles? Or that little boy prince Celica was so fond of? There were plenty of high-standing individuals in that ragtag army, so going for the magical mercenary seems just a bit odd to her.]
B. TEST OF INITIATION - closed to
[It's been long enough for Sonya to come to terms with her situation now. She's here now, after all, and it wasn't the first time she's had to box up her emotions about the situation in order to focus on adaptation and survival.
In fact, that's all her life ever was.
But as far as situations go, this was definitely more comfortable than what she was used to. Odd, sure. But comfortable.
So she's thoroughly put out when her test of initiation is such a mundane, sweaty job.
Climbing mountains. Sure, she's made worse treks than this. But it doesn't mean she enjoys doing it.
Sonya wrinkles her nose at the items before her before looking over to her partner.]
What do you think, Miss Veteran? Speed or safety?
[She'd rather get it over with, personally.]
C. DANCER CABIN
[Camping. Camping.
They take her out of an apocalypse scenario, toss her up a mountain, and then make her go camping.
Or so she thought, anyway. Those cabins? Nearly as comfortable as your average villager home back in Valentia. And those beds? Definitely more comfortable.
All in all, maybe not ideal, but a far cry from the camping she was expecting. She's been stationed in way shoddier places than this.
Sonya's languidly relaxed on one of the beds by the time someone else comes in, and the only think she does is look over to the door with a raised eyebrow.]
Guessing you're one of my fellow performers?
[The Bureau needs to give Sonya her spells back, the monsters.]
D. GENTLE PUNCHING CLUB
[Welp. Sonya lost all her spells except for some meager fire magic, and she's not pleased with it. Much to her chagrin, she knows she's going to have to start training like she was built for muscles and not magic.
Ugh.
She doesn't look enthused as she eyeballs the arena, and she looks even less enthused when she holds up what they expect her to spar with.]
I'm not wearing these.
E. FIELD DAY
[Honestly, this is more her style. Maybe a little childish, sure, but no one said she had to take part in whatever didn't interest her.
So Sonya's having her own fun instead, testing out her Allure ability. A wink, a smile, a blown kiss, and all she'll ask for is some company to the next booth.
Do you go along?]
F. OVERNIGHT SENSATION
[Sonya's been painting in green since the the arts and crafts were introduced to them, really, but she pays it no mind. Aside from wishing she had a nicer color (gold, maybe. Or purple), Sonya has a good time painting the most frivolous things she can think of.
Green flowers. Green trees. Green suns. Nothing out of the ordinary.
It's... the next day, that's a problem, when all she can do is paint the sad, empty husks that she remembered of her sisters.
The first painting was torn from the easel, crumpled and thrown in the corner before she had time to think about it. And the second.
But it's by the third that she seems to have given up, looking at the half-finished, green painting of two eerily beautiful women with an unreadable expression.]