BURN BABY BURN. (ap)

        CONFUSION replaces all the faked malice on the teenager’s expression, and they blink slowly ( like a cat ) at the stranger, before shifting nervously. A job? Every time she’s gone to apply somewhere, she’s always been turned down because she needs someone to sign her papers and… she doesn’t really have a family to do that? And suddenly she’s being given an interview by someone she’s hardly talked to? 

    Ceraun's lips twitch into a pseudo-     smile, something she's not wont to     do. Her hand outstretches for Chara     to shake.

        ❝ That's a pleasant name, young one. I am Ceraun. ❞

“I’m s-seventeen; I’m not a child. … And that d-depends on what it is. And if it’s p-poisoned or an explosive.”

        CRIMSON gaze is harsh, but forcibly so; it’s almost as if she expected cruelty in return for her words, and she was counting the seconds until there was something to harm her in the other’s hands. Fear was one of the few things keeping her awake at night, and her stubborn nature has kept her alive these days. 

        ❝ Seventeen is not yet an adult, therefore you are a child to me, you see? ...It is an interview. Something to perhaps land you a job, a source of income. ❞

    Ceraun lets her eyes lock with the     other's, no malice in her message.     She is trying so hard to be patient.

        SHE hugs herself tightly as she hides herself more in the shadows, red jewels turning down to the ground submissively, for the briefest of moments before jumping back to her with forced ferocity. 

    Flash of something in charred black     eyes-- long-gone embers sparked to     life again, perhaps. ( Then again, th-     ey'd been dead for a reason, hadn't     they? )

        ❝ I do not like to see children suffer. I would offer you something, but I get the feeling you'd not take it. ❞

        ❝ Watch your tone. I was not looking at you, whelp. ❞

    Words are sharp as daggers, but     relent just before they cut the child.     Harsh gaze calms as she sees the     fear in the other.

    A curt nod displayed her begrudging     acceptance of the apology, and her f-     ace softened, if only slightly.

❛ OH MY GOD !! ARE YOU… ❜

❛ A HUMAN !?!?!? ❜

        ❝ No, sir, I am not. ❞

    Words are blunt, tone pointed-- it's     just how she is. Wrath is not known     for tact, though she can be eloquent.     This one is so bright... and oddly fa-     miliar, too.