Long silver curls writhed violently in the cold, harsh wind of Scotland in December. They shone brightly against the moonless black sky of the night and seemed to mirror the agonizing sounds of the violin playing in the background. She played furiously staring with wide open eyes in the nothingness of the night, afraid to close her eyes for one minute as she knew that, otherwise, she would feel tears falling hotly down her face. She blamed it on the weather, she felt her skin blazing and freezing, at the same time, with every gust of wind. Her subconscious knew better, however.

---

She had been turning from side to side, trying to fall asleep for the better part of the night, until she eventually decided to give up and keep her mind distracted. It was hopeless and she knew it. She was going through so many new experiences, it was like her life had barely just started this year and it was trying to make up for all the fourteen years it hadn't lived itself out. This night was only one of the many sleepless ones she had been through for the past few months. She slowly rose from bed, careful not to wake her dorm mates, and mindlessly pulled a coat over her flimsy nightgown. She extracted her prized del Gesú from the trunk, in its beautiful purple velvet lined case and beckoned Freija to follow her as she exited the dorm room.

Confused and disoriented, she was acting as if possessed. The cold sinister air of the dungeon brought back some sense into her and she was suddenly wondering what she was doing. As if hearing her thoughts, Freija flicked her tail at her and started walking to the stairs leading up to the ground floor. She gave the cat an approving nod and disillusioned herself, before following her.

Freija had led her to the foot of the Astronomy tower. She was yet again entranced and she was hit with the urge to play and let everything seep out of her through the music. She would later regret she did not think for a second about the consequences of playing the violin in the cold winter air, after curfew on what was probably considered a forbidden area. She silently made her way to the top of the tower, hoping Professor Trishna was a heavy sleeper. The cold, harsh wind hit her painfully as she carefully stepped outside on the battlements.

---

By the time she fell into the third movement of Vivaldi's Concerto No. 2 in G minor[1], otherwise known as L'estate or simply Summer, she was holding back screams of despair and frustration and tears were falling freely on her scarlet cheeks. "I don't know who I am anymore" she thought to herself. A strong blast of wind, swept her voluminous coat into the air, exposing her bare legs to the unforgiving weather. She gasped at the sudden impact of cold on her skin. Opening her mouth -if only for a few seconds- proved to be the undoing to her self-control. With the final resurgence of the thunderous notes of the Presto she found herself shouting incomprehensible curses aimed at nobody and the entire world. The wind carried the music far and high, it covered both the rushing sounds of the storm and her own voice. The movements of the bow became erratic and more powerful, the frantic playing of the last couple of seconds of the solo seemed the perfect companion for the play of the end of the world.

As she lowered the bow to the ancient del Gesú for the last time, she released a wailing sound so pathetic and unnatural, that Freija, that had been sitting unmoved in a crenel jumped down and hissed at her. Gasping for breath, she lowered her violin and bow, and stumbled a few steps back to lean on a wall. Her mind had emptied itself leaving a disturbing silence behind; gone was the anger, gone was the confusion, gone was the frustration... she felt calm and almost content, in a frenzied sort of way, like a man greeting death as if they have been old friends. She felt warm, soft fur against her naked leg and she lowered herself to the floor to welcome the animal in her lap. She rubbed her cold, teary cheek to the cat's fur and sighed deeply.

"I am so scared, Freija" she spoke to the cat in a soft raspy voice. "So much frightens me... and yet nothing terrifies me more than my own self, at times."

1.	If you're curious. Plus it makes great atmosphere

Tapendra had, in fact, gone to bed - or more accurately, begun a nap. He rarely slept through the night, preferring short 3-4 hour power naps to a full night's sleep. So far, it'd worked well enough, but it did mean that when the wailing of a violin stirred him, he wasn't quite sure what the sound was or what it was coming from.

At first, it simply filtered into his dreams, an odd accompaniment to his usually nonsensical visions. When wailing and screaming accompanied the music, though, he awoke with a start, sitting up in his bed and throwing the sheets aside. Half-awake and confused, he wasn't even really aware of anything that'd cause that sound, or combination of it. Maybe some Dark Wizard preferred musical accompaniment to their torture -

He grabbed his wand, pulling a bathrobe on but otherwise taking no time to get dressed. He stepped out into the landing in jeans and nothing else save the robe, closing the door to his personal quarters with barely a click. His quarters were situated directly below the Astronomy classroom, at the top of the large spiral staircase. A draft blew down from the classroom above, the last length of steps betraying an unsettling fact -

One of the arches had been opened. His wand was already in hand, and he cast a Disillusionment charm on himself, ascending into the classroom almost silently, his bare feet padding softly on the wooden stairs and floor.

But far from the dark wizard and horrendous scene he'd been expecting - and queuing up spells in his mind for - a student stood there, violin in hand and tears streaming down her face. Tapendra looked at her in surprise for a few moments, unsure exactly how to react. Then, finally, he sighed - the sound now very loud, but enough to betray his presence as he walked forward. At least he recognized her; it was difficult not to, given her looks.

"Miss Báthory," he said, coming to the archway - and drawing his robe around him as the freezing winter wind bit at his bare feet and chest. "What in the world?"

Amara didn't even have time to wonder what has gotten into Freija, as the cat jumped from her lap and started hissing, before she knew it she heard the unmistakable voice of Professor Trishna. "Have I completely lost my mind" was the only thought that ringed through her mind. She made a hasty attempt at getting back on her feet and retreating a few steps, before she slipped and found herself unceremoniously sprawled on the the ground. The floor was wet and she now found the cold had settled deeply into her bones, but before her body had time to react to the temperature, she was hit with the sudden realization of her current situation. She quickly pulled her nightgown down and covered her legs with the coat -apparently she was making a habit of taking walks in flimsy nightgowns and falling on her rear.

She was suddenly very tired and the oddness of the situation refrained her from getting up. He was an imposing man in general, but compared to Amara, he might as well be taken for a half-giant. Her brows furrowed as she took in his appearance and was suddenly feeling very cold, but at least his legs were covered. She looked at the floor for a few seconds, not quite sure of her next move. As the silence was becoming heavy and uncomfortable, she eventually raised her tear-stained face to him again.

"I apologize, I felt like playing and the music affected me deeply" she told him, her usual cold and monotonic voice now small and faltering. That much was true, but she knew nobody would accept that as an explanation, not if he had heard her, and who knows how long he had been awake.

Freija was still growling and hissing at the professor, and Amara instantly felt the danger her familiar was emanating. She saw the tell-tale signs of an impending attack and she immediately grabbed the cat next to her and held her strongly. Freija was clawing thin air while growling at the man and for a second Amara was slightly amused by the situation.

"Calm yourself, demon" she told the cat in a dangerously stern voice, and Freija immediately obeyed. "I am in no immediate danger, what has gotten into you?" she admonished her. "I am sorry for my familiar's behavior, she's been going through a... rebellious phase."

She felt uncomfortable and with the adrenaline rush now gone, her body had started to feel the consequences of her attire in December. Her lips were turning a shade of purple and she was now visibly shivering. She was looking at the wizard as if waiting for some miracle to happen that would make the entire situation go away; she'd wake up and this would have all been a dream. What was she thinking coming to such a place in the middle of the night? She knew Professor Trishna's office was right under the classroom. She knew the logical assumption would be that he would wake up at the smallest noise, and she had been playing quite loudly, not to mention her sudden vocal outburst... She lowered her gaze to his feet and hugged the silent cat tighter. What would happen to her? Her perfect record would probably be smeared now with a detention, but she wasn't as worried about that as she was of the possible questions. What if she'd have to explain why exactly was she here? What if word of this would get to the clan? What if all her plans would be destroyed by this one temporary insanity of hers?

She chewed her lip nervously as she had never done before, took a deep breath and looked at the man with stern determination. "I am pre-prepared to suffer the consequences of my en-entirely inappr-propriate behavior, professor" she said strongly, although her violent shivering and clattering teeth had turned her very serious declaration into quite an amusing little speech.

Tapendra looked at the girl, expression difficult to read - largely due to not really knowing how to react or what to say.  He'd encountered crying students before, but never one quite like this one, and certainly not while in what passed for pajamas...while freezing his tits off.

Despite his imposing height, the fact the man was also visibly shivering undermined the effect - as did the fact the bathrobe he had on was, in fact, not particularly dignified. The plain white terrycloth was frayed at the edges and while there was once trim on the arms, it was clearly long gone. It was faded to an off-white with age. And, above all, it wasn't doing a damn thing against the cold.

She fell, and he jumped in alarm - tired eyes shooting to her tear-streaked face and her clear distress. In classes the girl had been like ice - unresponsive though not impolitely so. Emotion hadn't seemed to be something that Amara Bathory did. It was therefore odd and unsettling to see the snow-like girl sobbing, seemingly out of control, where before she'd been a glacier.

He'd knelt before her, trying to ignore the pain of his freezing feet. "We'll worry about that later, shall we?" he said, as she shivered her way through an acceptance of punishment. "Let's get inside before we freeze to death and then we'll worry about why you were out here," he added, standing again and holding out his hand. The curtain behind them flapped in the wind, snow drifting into the enclosed area of the tower.

She looked at his extended arm with suspicion, dreading the idea of any sort of physical contact. Eventually, assessing her situation had made her realize that she would probably not be able to get up without some sort of assistance. So she let Freija jump out of her arms -the cat was obviously still annoyed as she flicked her tail nervously while keeping a close watch on the professor. She grabbed his hand, as delicately as possible, trying to minimize the contact.

Once up on her feet, she straightened her clothes, despite looking a mess whatever she might have done. She refused to cast a drying charm on them, as the last time she done that, the clothes shrunk and she berated herself for her inability to foresee that for weeks. She looked at the professor for a second, noticing he was waiting for her to follow him, and she quickly grabbed the violin and bow, that were leaning on the wall, put them in the case and turned to look at the man.

She wiped her face with her sleeve, and sighed deeply. Now she had really done it.... She pulled herself together, shaking off all feelings and postponed dealing with them until later, when she was alone. She made a few steps forward and called for Freija to follow before she passed around the billowing curtain and into the tower. Circe only knew what the professor would do to her and how it would affect her future. She whispered angrily some very unladylike profanities and braced herself for whatever was to come.

She looked at his hand for just long enough for Tapendra to feel awkward, but she finally took it, the touch light and terminated the moment it was no longer necessary. Tapendra was, at least at the moment, too bloody cold to worry about the hesitation shown there. He hurried inside the tower, waving his wand to close the curtain and then turning and re-sealing it. The old wind stopped almost instantly, and feeling started to return to his feet.

He sniffed, rubbing his arms as he waved his wand at the fireplaces. They lit abruptly, though fire wasn't the most effective way to heat the room. The mere sight of the merrily shining flames cheered the dark tower up, though.

And, heat or no heat, the mere sight of the flames made him feel warmer. He turned to Amara, looking her up and down. Her dress looked wet, and she was still visibly shaking - unsurprising, really. How long had she been out there in the biting winter winds?

"Do dry yourself off, Bathory," he said, tone still the reasonable and kind one he usually took in such circumstances. "You'll catch cold if you stay like that." And somehow being sick right at the end of the term didn't seem a good idea - he'd had that happen before and, amazingly, coughing fits had not raised his marks in Transfiguration. Not that much had ever raised his marks in Transfiguration.

"Tea?" He asked, abruptly. He certainly needed some himself, though the temptation was more to pour a cup and crawl into it. He either needed to curl up in bed again or go take a hot bath to try and combat the cold, which felt like it'd seeped into his veins.

She had been locked in place the entire time the professor entered the room and lit the fire until she heard him speak. Freija has skipped off near the fireplace the moment the flames flared up, she shook the water off of her and curled up in front of the fire, still keeping a cautious eye on her master and the tall man.

"It-it shrinks clothes" she said in a very small voice, entirely uncharacteristic to her. When she realized the wizard hadn't hear what she said she cleared her throat and tried again "Drying charms shrink clothes and tend to weaken the weaving of the material... I found out recently" she explained. She looked around the room, trying to come up with something to clear the very tense, awkward silence when the professor spoke again rather abruptly. "Yes!" she answered rather quick, and brusquely. She was silent for a second clutching the handle of the violin case in her hands, uncomfortable at her own jumpy reactions. "I mean, yes, tea would be lovely."

The heavy wool coat was soaking wet and she refused to dry it off magically. She should get out of it, however, unless she fancied herself  sick with pneumonia later... but she was only wearing a rather short, wet, and probably very see-through nightgown underneath it. She bit her lower lip again trying to find a way to get out of the garment in question, without completely embarrassing herself. Amara was definitely and completely not herself, if such a question proved an issue that demanded thinking. As if struck by lightning she quickly put the violin case on the floor and moved to the fireplace. She was a witch, no? And she was a an accomplished seamstress, was she not? So, while the professor had his back turned, she quickly got out of the coat, hung it on the fireplace, dried off her nightgown -it was just a nightgown, really- and quickly transfigured it into a  knee-length dress with bishop sleeves.

She must really look a fright. She didn't even want to think what the wind had done to her hair, and how much of a rats nest it was by now. Her cheeks were now tinged with a deep crimson as she imagined the outrage of her Aunt Elena were she aware of Amara's current situation... Really, even if the entire castle was burning to ashes she should've still been properly attired. The professor returned and she eventually raised her face to look at him.

Tapendra, whose most expensive item of clothing was in the mere hundreds of dollars, resisted the urge to shake his head. Drying charms weren't that bad, surely? Besides, they were wizards. He doubted Darian's clothing would have lasted like it did if that was such a huge concern.

However, he wasn't going to press the issue - tea seemed a more tempting thing than any worrying about fabric. As she sorted herself out, he dug out one of the lovely things magic could do that electronics couldn't - the kettle that let him make tea in his office. Well - alright, electronics could do that too, but he'd have needed a sink. Pipes. Stuff like that.

Instead he simply filled the kettle with water with a quick Aguamenti and then hit the bottom of it with a few heating charms until the water boiled. It was quick and, well, it wasn't any finely brewed concoction but frankly Tapendra didn't care at the moment.

He poured the tea into cups (mismatched, naturally) and walked over to Amara, holding one out to her. His own he'd chosen not to put sugar in, which meant the tea wasn't going to be particularly enjoyable beyond the heat of it.

"Well then," he said, leaning on one of the stone pillars. "Now that we're not freezing our t-toes off," he quickly corrected his word use, turning it into a slight stutter, "Why were you on my battlements at this hour?"

She stood there, unmoving with her hands wrapped snugly around the cup, staring into the the tea as if it held the mysteries of the universe. She felt an explanation should be provided, but in the end she didn't owe him one. As the cold seeped out of her body so did the madness that had pushed her to do such a thing in the first place. Her flushed, tense expression seemed to return to her usual cold, imperceptible mask. Now, that she thought about it -why was she on the battlements, really? She knew why -she wanted to play, because she couldn't sleep- she just couldn't understand what had pushed her to make such a spectacle of herself.

She finally raised her face from the cup and looked at him, but really looked at him this time. She usually knew what her professors would want to hear from her, but she had never really been in a situation such as this. Professor Maras was the only that had ever approached her on subjects slightly off the professor-student relation, and it wasn't even the problem that was unrelated, bur rather Amara's cause of it. She never bothered herself with Professor Trishna, he was an adequate educator and his personality or behavior had never put Amara in a position to analyze him or develop any sort of opinion on him, as with Professor Reid, for example.

"I couldn't sleep. Playing seemed like a good alternative to laying in bed pretending I could eventually fall asleep. The acoustics here proved rather exceptional, as I have imagined when choosing the battlements as a location" she said in raspy voice, lacking any sort of fluctuations in speech. There, that was a valid explanation and it was also the truth. She felt it was enough and would not provide any other details, everything else was of a personal matter and she wasn't about to start sharing life-long kept secrets to just anybody. It was already disastrous that she had blabbered enough about herself to last a lifetime of sharing personal matters to one other person, namely Mr. Schlagenweit. Not to mention the mysterious Donn Domovoi... She couldn't possibly have another to hold anything over her.

Bathory didn't say much, just took the tea. Tapendra decided to spend a few moments focused on the tea and the heat of it - even if it was so terribly bland and watery without sugar - and try to get the heat to his toes via sheer willpower. Merlin's pants, he needed to get a new pair of slippers. It at least leave a pair of sandals out somewhere.

When she finally spoke, she was back to the tone he was used to - one he had come to think of as robotic. It held little emotion, just a kind of plain and bare presentation of words. It reminded him of LeJean, to some extent; both girls seemed devoid of emotion. Bathory, thankfully, was much more in control of her logical faculties and made some effort to adapt to the circumstances around her...

Still, the Astronomy Tower was quite a trek from the Slytherin dungeons. It was in theory a good choice for silence and the ability to play freely, bit still - a long trek. It had to be planned as she said, he assumed; it wasn't exactly the destination of whims.

"Do you do this often, Miss Bathory?" He asked, deciding not to prod much yet. Children like Bathory meant prodding didn't have much effect, usually - they tended to seal off even more than they already were.

"Lately, I find myself I do" she answered in a contemplative tone. She was doing this rather often as of lately, no wonder on top of her rudely awakening feelings, she had been such a mess; now that she really thought about it, she hadn't been getting a good night's sleep in ages. Except for that one time, when she decided she just couldn't go on anymore and took the last drops of Living Death she brought from home... But that was besides the point, and using the Draught frequently was not a solution to her new found sleeping disorder.

She was tired and cold and fantasized of a hot bath filled with rose oils, and perhaps some Dostoyevsky, some passages from Demons, perhaps? With some reluctance, she realized the only way to get out of this interrogation and into the bathtub, was to comply with his demands -well, his questions. She sipped some tea, and, unintentionally grimaced: tea brewing was an art, and obviously Professor Trishna had not been introduced to its secrets and beauty. But the warm liquid was a welcome source of heat, so she ignored the bland taste and took another sip.

She looked over the edge of the cup at the wizard, and then slowly removed the cup from her mouth. She took a deep breath and shook her head slightly. "This is ridiculous -I'm being ridiculous! What am I thinking? Damn this -this, whatever it is! And damn the neurotransmitters that keep causing these emotions!" she mentally berated herself. Amara Ecaterina Báthory, carrying mental conversations with herself: nothing new, but the desperation in her mental flow, now that was something new.

"For the past few -no. For the past year, I've been experience rather disturbing changes in my behavior and mentality, I've been experiencing a series of psychophysiological expressions that are uncharacteristic for me. They are often confusing and out of my control, and therefore also have an impact on my body. In turn, my physical response to these reactions, has an impact on my behavior, while my behavior may cause some of these reactions, and so on; the cycle keeps repeating itself" she explained in a serious tone. She hated how, every time she had to explain something, she always had to share something else about herself, but that was the way her mind worked and how she thought others might compute information.

"One of the physical responses to these reactions has been the development of a sleeping disorder. For the past few months, I made myself busy, by studying or reading, but soon enough I was too ahead with my studies and therefore hit a halt. After that, I decided perhaps a nightly walk might help. It did for a while, but that also proved inefficient in the end. Next I decided to take my violin with me on my walks. It has been working, so far. It is not very efficient, but at least I get two-three hours of sleep a night" she stopped to take a breath and took another sip from the cup. "I usually play by the lake, but it has gotten too cold for that -not that out there was any less cold" she suddenly added with an arched brow looking at the curtain. Her expression changed to one of confusion as she stared at the curtain. "It's become mechanic and a bit of a blur. I sleep for an hour, I wake up, I take the del Gesú and find myself in some forgotten place of the castle, panting, with my fingers bruised from the chords, often crying... and in a state of complete momentary confusion" she spoke now in a low voice, caught in her own mind, the professor's presence completely forgotten. "It's not like sleepwalking, I am conscious while everything happens -it's like the rational, sentient part of myself completely shuts down and I function solely on some other part of myself, one that's foreign to me-"

"Mroooow!" Freija was was circling her legs and flicking her tail nervously.

She straightened her back and looked back at the professor with a defiant look. She'd been doing it again: rambling about things that she thought best to remain unspoken. She emptied the cup and put it on the closest surface before going straight for the fireplace to pick up her coat. Folding it over her arms, she turned to look at the man.

"My behavior was not suitable for a Hogwarts student and I will readily agree with whatever punishment you think appropriate. So, Professor, if you deem my explanation satisfactory, I'd like to return to the dorms" she said in an icy tone, underlined with annoyance and contempt -at the situation, herself and the Professor for being at the wrong time in the wrong place.

Tapendra's expression remained neutral - for as long as he could keep it that way, anyway. At her words, his right eyebrow crept up in to a questioning arc, turning his neutral look into one of nonplussed curiosity. Sleeping disorders? These seemed to be going around. Sasha, Johann, Bathory, even his own bloody cat if the amount of running over his head at night was to believed. He himself didn't sleep through the night, but in his case it was planned.

He was quiet as she spoke, blowing on the tea to cool it and having to hope these changes - ye gods, she put that strangely, didn't she? - weren't the sort of changes he'd had to defer to others when Georgiana developed them. Gods, Cyhirae was only a year or so from those, wasn't she?

Either way, the...well, passion in her tone was unusual for Bathory, which so far seemed to be the theme for the night. He frowned as she abruptly changed back to the formal tones she usually used - as much as the rambling was strange, he found himself almost preferring it.

"I see," he said, offering the girl a warm if somewhat tired smile. "I wouldn't say personality changes are necessarily bad, but - have you spoken with Madam Nadge? Sleeping orders are no laughing matter, especially at your age. Even if it has indeed raised your grades." He sniffed, having to move the cup away; it was making his nose run. "Especially if you're experiencing...well," he turned his blue gaze on her again, stern frown back in place, but one with a definite worried air to it. "They sound like blackouts, Miss Bathory, if you're experiencing loss of control or memory. That is not a good sign."

He folded his arms at her, head tilting to the side slightly. "I'll have to take points - wandering the castle after curfew is against the rules. That said, if you're indeed suffering from what you say..." That was more important, for the moment.

She was fidgeting with the coat in her arms and looking straight at the man, daring not to blink. "Damn me! Damn me and my blabbering mouth." She was clenching her teeth, trying very hard to not just storm out of the room immediately . Of course! Of course he would not just dismiss her words and just let her bloody go to sleep and pretend this, as so many before, has never happened. She closed her eyes for a second, taking a deep breath, urging herself to calm down and not make this a bigger mess than it already was.

"There is no need for Madam Nadge or worry" she dismissed him quickly. "I have been in correspondence with our family healer, the matter will be seen to during winter break. There is not much left until then. I have managed just fine until now, I will manage for a couple more weeks" she practically spat at him before swiftly regaining her composure. "I thank you for your concern, however" she added halfheartedly.

He was taking points! She hadn't even heard whatever he said after that. No, no -that was something that could not happen to her. She was fine with detention, maybe a lower mark, but not point-taking! That would not only reflect on herself, but the entire house. That would the perfect reason for everybody to bug her: her house-mates, her professors... her family -oh, Circe, her family! No, this could not happen. She swallowed her pride, anger, exhaustion and prepared mentally for negotiating -because, she would never, ever admit to calling it... begging.

"I realize the nature of my rule violation demands that house points should be taken, but would you consider any other form of punishment, sir? Anything at all?" she said in a small voice, swallowing an imaginary knot in her throat. She held the coat in her arms tighter, digging her nails into it and swallowing another knot, "Please, professor?" If that wasn't the most begging Amara had ever done in her life... nothing was.

Tapendra was unable to control his expression, which turned to open and unmasked surprise and then flashed to annoyance when she dismissed and spat, emotion surfacing in her and vanishing again with the blink of an eye. Unlike her, indeed. His eyes narrowed even as his expression was quickly brought back under control.

"Pardon me, Miss Bathory, but repeatedly breaking the rules to wander the castle at odd hours due to a lack of sleep - and, as you say, suffering from some level of control loss - is not how most would define managing," he said, cooly. Managing would basically be sticking to the dorms and reading or something, wouldn't it? He wasn't sure, truth be told.  "However, if your family's chosen healer is to see to you over break, then I will not suggest a visit to Madam Nadge."

He let his breath out as she begged for a different punishment, his expression shifting again - returning to worry. "I can certainly consider it," he said, carefully, setting his tea cup on the nearby side table. "But - you'll have to pardon me again - you are acting very strangely, Miss Bathory. Are you sure you're alright?"

Well...strangely for Bathory, at any rate.

She dismissed his rather passive-aggressive remark rather coolly, she thought his outbursts none of her business and she didn't really care if he was offended by her tone of voice, even if it had been impolite. She really just wanted to sort out the house points situation and go back to the dorms. It was obvious she would never fall asleep now, but she could at least take that bath... She ground her teeth and inhaled deeply through her nose. This man was very, very persistent.

"Perfectly fine, professor" she said, obviously annoyed as she made a sign of dismissal with her hand. "Even if you don't think I am managing, I've been dealing with worse my entire life. A sleeping problem is nothing. It's temporary and it will be seen to as soon as possible, probably solved in less than a month, and everything will be back to normal" she spoke quickly and ended suddenly, crossing her arms over the coat. Even she knew how to identify a person obviously not wanting to discuss a certain subject, and Amara's social interaction level was close to that of a troll.

"Could we maybe talk about my punishment, sir? It's almost morning."