How to Train Your Channeler

[Oriena]

She heard Sasha’s voice, broken and pathetic around the syllables of her name, but only glanced at where he collapsed against the wall clutching his head. There were two women. One Asian, still as a blade and just as silent. The one who spoke was the one who held the gun ready. Oriena had no real idea if her power could ricochet a bullet before it ripped through her guts, but she wasn’t afraid to find out either. As it was she recognised the second woman, but only as a face who’d been to her club. Ori claimed no attachment to Jaxen Marveet, but it didn’t stop her noticing who he left with.

Her smirk twisted playful.

“He’s mine, sweetheart. It’s very much my business.”

She imagined they might show at least a little sense and be easy to scare off, especially given the whisper that had carried to her power-sensitive ears, but the dumb bitch aiming the gun took a bold step closer.

"I didn't see your name on him. Finders keepers and all that. He's mine now.”

Ori’s eyes rolled. Inwardly she bristled, mostly for the trap of her own words. Outwardly she just sent flows of fire into the gun itself, heating it until the woman’s hand jerked free from the shock of pain and it hit the ground. Ori knew exactly how painful that burn would be. This time it was her who took a step forward. “Good girl,” she said, half grinning, and absolutely meaning to tease her pride into ill-advised rashness. Her voice grew low and husky, menacing and seductive in equal measure. “Finders keepers and all that. Maybe you’re mine now.” Because if the snake was going to be stupid enough to think she stood any fucking chance here, then Oriena was going to teach her exactly why the Atharim ought to be scared of channelers. Her eyes glinted. Couldn’t say she hadn’t given them a fair chance.

The other woman shifted like liquid in the same instant Oriena moved, drawing her weapon (why the fuck did these people carry swords?) and pushing herself in front of her companion. She murmured a desperate plea behind her as she did so. But the more interesting thing to happen was the way a glow nimbused around her like a small sun. Oriena laughed. It didn’t phase her approach, just made it even more of a taunting stalk.

“Does your friend even know?” she asked curiously. A lattice of air wrapped the woman effortlessly, banded tight and dragged her up to the tips of her toes in a way that was probably painful. Ori didn’t even bother with a shield – let the mouse try. Meanwhile, wonder of wonders, said friend actually listened and ran. Ori let her go, watching with a catlike smile.

The one caught in her web had actually already guttered like a candle flame. Neither did she struggle against her bonds, instead just looking back at Ori with solemn acceptance. She murmured something in her own language which sounded like submission or a prayer, something entirely disappointing anyway, and Ori made a noise of disgust in her throat. She dropped her hold, and the woman fell gracefully, albeit to her knees, where she didn’t look up from that fallen position, black hair ghosting either side of her cheeks. In fact she didn’t move at all until Ori kicked her away. “For fuck’s sake, just fuck off already. I’m not going to hurt you.”

After a moment the woman made a decision and ran.

It was only after she was sure they were both gone that she turned her impatience on Sasha. She was half inclined to leave him to fend for himself now his little problem had been dispersed, but the noises he made were pathetic enough that she stalked over to where he was crouched against the wall instead. She squatted close in front of him, ran her hand against his jaw to lift it. It might have been sweet except when her fingers raked into his hair she closed her fist to lift his head. “The fuck is wrong with you?”

[[modes with permission, Zef's dialogue by Zef]]