☣CONQUER

Did she know just how her hands had twitched beneath their skin at the mere idea of jumping back into the depths of the Team? The constant field missions and immersion into the darker recesses of one’s mind—picking apart each and every—

"It’s not a waste." She said next, cutting off her line of thought where it was. It was an order, never mind the occasional meets she has with the others—Koga especially—sedating that hunger she had little by little. Perhaps she hadn’t changed all too much from that child so curious about the blood she’d spilled and the minds she’d picked apart.

Not to mention the whispers of just how close she was getting to some -- or one -- of the other Gym Leaders that firmly opposed them.

Her gaze moved south, focusing on the short table before her, hands perfectly placed on her lap. The smallest hint of a smirk touched the corner of her lips. How was she to approach this woman now? “I was hardly in the position to do so,” she responded in kind, easily referring to her earlier days within the team. There was no doubt in her mind the others knew—not that she made any effort to hide it among the higher members of the Team.

It wasn’t as though the others had no skeletons of their own.

Inwardly allowing a breath to pass, she turned her attention back to the red haired woman. "It is unfortunate that we have yet to work together despite belonging to the same organization all this time." Never mind how her work in Kanto was more cloaks than it were literal daggers. Ah, how times have passed.

As she doesn't seem to take kindly to much.

Receiving a more or less neutral response Ariana takes it upon herself to sit beside Sabrina, legs folding elegantly under herself and hands resting with laced fingers in her lap.} Unfortunate indeed, I'm glad we share that opinion. I like to think someone as powerful as you is being wasted, inactive, within Kanto. 

                  Sitting quietly at the other end of the table, she barely lifted                   her glance towards the other end of the table. " … " She                   gave a soft sigh. While sitting in seiza was a habit of hers                   it never lessened how much of a pain it was on the knees                   later—but she supposed the present company should be                   worth such a thing.

At first glance she almost passes over the most interesting person in the room in favor of gossiping with Archer. But details are everything and Ariana had paid a special interest in inviting this woman.

Her eyes cut across the room, purposefully obvious in a way that her weighted gaze should draw attention, should cause the the eerie sense of being watched like it was a physical touch.

Sabrina, however, had a far more interesting sixth sense.

Ariana would know, she’s seen the files first hand. Even the oldest from when she’d been brought in as a mere untrained child. How she’d flourished. 

Not the woman Ariana remembered earlier in life, not the one she’d have expected to have ended up being seated at this table under even the oddest of circumstances. But here she is, and it’d be impolite to do anything but make her way over to say hello.}

[ Proton hitches, his grin wild and his eyes almost too menacing, too dark if it wasn’t for the glint of agreement that passes over them.

He knows they’re a team to be reckoned with. Knows that if they walked in, in any city, guns blaring they could take whatever and make it theirs. Just like the glory days, he thinks, for a moment.

Just like they use to, he thinks for a second. And it’s almost a toxic thing to think of. Because pride shapes Proton, cuts into him like a knife into veins in a way into something that he shouldn’t be use to. It drives him into doing the deeds he does today. Urges him to listen to Archer, sometimes and Ariana no questions asked because just like all the executives he thinks think, the world needed to know their name. Needed to fear them.

It is one of the few things it deserved after all.

Posture the mirror of Ariana’s own and smile just as sharp, just as smug, Proton tips his cap down in a gentleman-ly gesture and bows down before her. ]

If the dearest wants me to calm down then I shall, I fuckin’ guess.

[ He says, hand light over his chest and back curved in an definite angle. ]

If Archer is control than Proton is chaos, a deadly tempest that, in her younger years, could easily sweep Ariana off her feet to be swept up in deadly, dirty, and dastardly plans. In that way Proton highlights years long since past in Ariana, and even if she can't say she's fond of Proton as a person, she's fond of what he manages to stir up around him.

Smearing the blood all over the white, plastered tiles, squeaky clean is what he aims for as he pads the rest of it off like rain water dripping between the cracks. And once it’s done and over with, he’s dusting off his hands, dipping for a bow like’s he a star on his own Broadway show because he might as well be.

Because people might say murder was the easiest thing to commit. Easiest thing to fall into, but he fucking knows that’s not the case.

Because just as easy as it was for him to snap those kids’ necks, slit their throat, stab into their veins, make them cry and make them beg for their life, pleading for him to not go over that edge, he knows, it could have been just as simple, just as mundane for them to do the same. ]

Nothin’s dangerous anymore. [ Proton comments deadly and bad. ]

Memory curves her lips into a private smile when she recalls Archer coming back with a bruised and bleeding face from dealing with a boy five, maybe six years the senior of the children Proton has killed today. A silly contrast to someone speckled in blood that only belong to their prey.}

{Taps bottom lip.} Objects are things you can see and touch, neither of your answers count, Proton.