Agafya
Two hours into her work had given Yamada a bit of an idea of what to expect from the second pair, though she wasn't quite prepared for the degree of swagger you carried yourself with. Samus was proud of herself, Arne had confidence...sometimes...Sevrin carried himself regally. You though? You had arrogance and rocked it. You were gorgeous, you were strong, you were skilled, you were smart. You knew it, everyone knew it, they just had to look at you and feel the power, the smarts, the wit all exuding from you. You more than anyone, embraced the title of deity. The others thought it was more...metaphorical, a figure to inspire. You though? If people didn't want to drink in your splendour then quite frankly they didn't have functional eyes.
You tried your best to make your impression on Yamada, rolling your shoulders and flipping your hair as you looked down at her with your scarlet eyes, a smug look on your face while you slowly folded your arms. You wore a black jacket with a red shirt and green jeans, charteuse sneakers covering your feet as you stepped forward, knowing and delighting in your somewhat exotic appearance. You got eyes on you, that was good. It was good to have some time in the limelight after a life lived in darkness. Hand on your hip, smug smirk on your face, trying to get a read on Yamada.
"Agafya Elenovna Sokolova, yes? Russian descent if I'm not mistaken?"
"Hasn't been a thing as Russian for forty-five thousand years. I am Mishkovian." You corrected. "But the name is a Russian throwback, yes." You softened your expression a bit as you decided to pre-empt her offer of a seat by lying down on the reclining seat on your side, propping your head up a hand on your cheek. The room was underdecorated by your standards, but you suppose it couldn't be helped, she had to be professional, and living in low light conditions so much made you crave visual stimulation that this relatively stately room of gentle, homely colours wasn't going to provide.
"Fascinating...I suppose it's to be expected that most nationalities of my era wouldn't survive into yours. Though from what I hear, that's better than what we get in the Space Marines' timeline." She said, laughing a bit at what you figured was a small attempt at humour. Trying to get you off your guard, to relax. Probably to divulge secrets. You were wise to these sorts of tricks. Your caretakers had taught you well, you could trust sometimes; but you always verified. Take nothing for granted, think of possibilities beyond what is obvious.
Perhaps she was just a therapist, her scans showed her to be an entirely conventional baseline human. Had the genes to, according to your own calculations and checked by your armour's hypercomputation systems; live to about a hundred and ten or so years old as long as she didn't resume her prior smoking habit. Heightened chance of lung cancer, should probably cut out the alcohol with her unaugmented liver, could do with more exercise in a world without muscle stimulation, teeth brushed well but not perfectly; two fillings from a fondness for sweetened tea. Still at child bearing age but if she wants to go down that route she should probably decide on it within the next ten or so years.
Ordinary, fragile. Yes, not the picture perfect image of a conspirator. But who could use her data? The Nazis? The Space Pirates? The Decepticons? The Rikti? The Shadow Raiders? The Cultists? All of these were valid, possible beneficiaries should they have access to her records. The information networks of this world were already compromised. Privacy not guaranteed, perhaps even impossible. Keep failings to your chest, assume someone who you don't want to observe is already watching. Perhaps you were safe, your extrasensory perceptions didn't feel the presence of anything unwanted, but your divination and metaphysical senses were relatively rudimentary. Not yet foolproof.
"We haven't had the same number of civilisation collapses as the Imperials no." You said brusquely. The Imperials were suspicion inducing, too overtly pious. Reverential towards authority figures. Too much time spent fighting monsters in total war footings; couldn't be unscathed by their experiences.
"I've been informed you are often considered somewhat paranoid, a-"
"Everyone has sides to them they keep in the dark. Everyone has cards they never play face up. I can sense lies with ease and people speak them constantly. My home died thanks to a surprise attack through gate systems nobody knew of, with special forces units wrapped in shadow at the helm. My friends all similarly have things they cannot explain behind their orphanings. Our lives are full of similarities not explainable by coincidence. I am not paranoid, I merely see the patterns many do not even know are there." You said, running your finger along the side of the chair to get a feel for its material, leather...genuine leather, used to be the skin of a cow. Barbaric. You sneered.
"You are not lying to me, not yet. But who watches your words? Who reads your reports? How do I know that your network is not already compromised?" You said with a stern but not harsh voice.
"As you can see, I'm keeping paper and offline records while we try to sort out the computer issues we've been having. It's not fool proof, but if you spend your entire life worrying about who could be eavesdropping you will live your whole life in fear." She replied, folding her hands together, trying to be courteous, your friend. You had overheard her conversations with Arne and Samus, she seemed genuine, but she was a psychologist, she'd know how to lie to people. How to put on masks that people wanted to see. Yet you could peer into her soul, and saw nothing more than a typical later-twenties aged Japanese-American doctor of psychology and parahuman therapy.
"Good, you are wise then." You replied, checking at your nails for a moment to confirm that they maintained your preferred sharpness and length. You took a moment to look at the movement of her pen, something she had learned to accept was a thing you people could do.
Agafya Elenovna Sokolova (sometimes called "Agata", "Agatha", "Aggie" or other diminuitives or variants, "Aggie" seems to be something she only allows from close friends however) seems like she will be the most difficult to work with. So far I cannot see any signs of her bearing emotional wounds to similar degrees that Arne does or as severe a response to trauma as Samus has, but she clearly displays issues with trust. She looks at everything she has not come to trust with a highly analytical eye and tries her best to keep her distance if she isn't entirely comfortable. From what I can see, she likes to project an air of distance and unapproachability. Someone to be admired, but never to be understood. More than any of her group; save for the other eight that we have not established contact with yet; she has kept the most details of her past under wraps. We only know that she was orphaned, her parents were named Boris and Elena, she was born on the fotress world of Udraniv on the same day as her fellow "duodecimarchs" and was adopted by an enigmatic species known as the Umbhar under the guidance of the Black Matron and was raised on the "nightsphere" of Nykra.
"Was this something you were taught by the Umbhar...or did you pick it up independently? I must admit I know much less about you and Sevrin's caretakers than your other two friends." She asked, looking up at you while her face was turned towards her binder.
"Yes."
"To what?"
"The Black Matron of Nykra taught me how to find things in the dark. The Shade-Maker taught me how to go unnoticed when I did not want to be seen. But my suspicions? I was my own best teacher. Find what is hidden, unveil the secret things that are not spoken of in public, uncover the truths left to be discovered. And never, ever trust things to be what they seem." You said, taking a comb out of a spacefolding pouch and brushing your hair briefly with it, taking a look at yourself with divination and nodding in satisfaction.
"But what about your friends?" She asked, a predictable question. Look for exceptions to your rules, try to make you question the need for your code. A transparent ploy. But you were clever, you knew these tricks.
"I have verified them extensively. I made sure to know all I could about them." Yet even they had secrets. Arne had that...Creep in his head, Samus had a journal for her eyes only, Sevrin...even that boy kept a lot of his thoughts to himself. Hiding his complaints and disagreements because everyone needed to trust on and rely upon the sun. Little secrets, but secrets all the same. So in essence, you lied, but lying was easy to you. Effortless. You had set up an entire network of personas on social media run by a web of A.Is with fake lives to trawl the two internets for information you couldn't find by slicing into databases. That was the power of deceit. Though sometimes you just did it to be funny.
You checked whether Steve Jobs had responded to your botnet's @ on twitter, faster than Yamada could perceive.
"Beware of the Ligma outbreak predicted for the 5th of October." Bait.
"What the hell is Ligma?" Catch.
"You sound as though you're constantly wound up. But if you'll permit me to pry, what were the Black Matron and the Shadow Sire like?" She said, tapping her pen on her binder in a manner that struck you as deeply concerned.
"The Umbhar are beings of a form of Dark Matter; Nictyonic matter. They do not interact with electromagnetism or the strong force, but do interact with Shidkaril and Darvolg; fundamental forces unknown to you. When they do not wish to be seen, they cannot be, not by normal senses. When they do not wish to interact, they will phase through most substances and energies as if they were not there. They are the shadow, they are wise." You said, confident that she was following what you were saying.
"But you haven't actually told me anything about them. Agafya, please drop the mysterious stranger act around me. We're supposed to work together, and that's going to be complicated if you can't even be yourself around me." She replied with an unamused expression. Curses, she wasn't being fooled by your enigmatic facade. Did the snoops at the PRT or Vanguard leak how you behaved among people you trusted.
"I know you can speak in a much more relaxed manner than you are now. And that you can clam up when you feel uncomfortable. I know I can't promise you absolute safety, but I can promise that you're among friends here." She said, lowering her binder and offering a relaxed smile.
"How can I know that people won't extract the information from you? You have no defences against telepathy, you are fragile and would be easily intimidated or interrogated. Speaking too much to you is a security risk." You said, trying to not fall back onto your more mysterious somewhat clipped speech patterns. Your accent of course was more prominent when you were more relaxed, that slavonic flow and east-slavic vowel slant, pronounced Rs and a bit more weight to certain consonants and less on others.
"I have sat in chairs like this with plenty of people who could kill me with a finger flick or had some means of reading me like an open book. I've learned how to hold my own. Do I fear death? Yes. I'd be worried if I didn't. But I've learned how to stare it in the face. And right now, I can see that you're trying to get me afraid of poking into your comfort zone. You're someone who likes to be seen, but known; and even being seen is something you only want on your terms." She said as you hissed and sucked in your lips a bit while you looked away, rolling on the seat and huffing.
Agafya I believe can be diagnosed with Paranoid Personality DIsorder. She catastrophises, mistrusts, and is heavily prone to conspirational thinking. She has in essence; two faces. The more fun-loving and hedonistic one she presents around trusted associates and the scrutinising, paranoiac investigator she gives to everyone else. I do not however, believe these are separate personalities, simply how she acts depending on whether her guard is up or not. While clearly having a very gifted mind, Agafya's tendency towards distrust and contempt makes it difficult to get straight answers out of her, and she demonstratively dislikes not feeling as though she is the most clever person in the room or that she cannot get what she wants. While field reports state that she is ultimately, kind and caring as well as heroic and helpful, this does not appear to be a side of herself she likes to show.
"As expected, pathologising me." You said with an exhale as you sat up and dusted off your jeans, crossing your legs and folding your arms before staring her down.
"Well? Go on. Ask." You threw your arms wide open.
"The Black Matron, what is she really like?"
"She means well, but she struggles to understand my needs, my wants. It's boring in Nykra, there's little colour. I need assistance to even touch much of the decorations and objects of interest. And she insists I learn to deal with the deprivation. Missions are not a place I can expect comforts in." You said, huffing when you figured she wasn't going to relent until she got something out of you that you could go off of.
"I can handle temperence. Abstinence though? Emptiness, awful."
"You don't sound like you resent her."
"Sometimes I do, her and Shade-Sire. But they've proven themselves many times. Even if I wished they'd be more understanding sometimes. Sometimes I even feel like I hate them...I was never given a proper hug by something I didn't build myself until I met Sevrin." You recalled, sighing and looking out the nearest window, taking a look at all the combustion engine cars milling about as if life was still normal, as if this world hadn't received its greatest shock yet.
Such a funny thing, this Brockton Bay. So small yet everyone carrying on as if everything they did mattered. You blinked and focused your attention back on Yamada.
"What was your training like?" She asked. You could hear her thoughts, she wasn't pleased with how you were treated. The colour of her emotions was sour and the music of her mood discordant. Doubtlessly she wished you were treated like a proper child.
"Very intensive, very focused on making sure I could think for myself. They did not want me to be something....someone who relied on rote memorisation. I was...am a Nightranger. I do not walk the road, I make my own and find new ones." You replied, fingers tapping.
"I was given guidelines, tools to use, but I had to figure things out for myself. It hurt sometimes, sometimes a lot. Sometimes it would take me ages to find a solution with simple tools. But I know how to work with what I have. How to improvise, how to plan." You concluded.
"Did you enjoy these sessions?"
"Not all the time, a lot of it sucked." You responded.
"But do you love her? The Black matron? As your caretaker? Mother even?" She inquired.
You looked at her as if she was crazy, like she had grown another head and started barking gibberish.
"What kind of question is that? Of course I love my Mamachka. She had no reason to take me from the smouldering waste of Udraniv and yet...she chose me to live that day, me amidst all the dead and unsaveable. When I was begging, screaming at the warm, irradiated goop that had been my family, when I was vomiting my own blood from the sickness...they saved me." You said, your expression softer now as you looked at her to see her response, did she buy it? You were giving her the truth, but you were unsure if she wanted truth or just what she wanted to hear.
"What were your parents like?"
"Brave, to fight against a Grand Templar-Spiritual like Klavix you'd have to be Brave, Stupid, or insane. Some describe them as like a living star. No, more like a living gamma ray burst. Radioactive, nuclear destruction that turns flesh to slime and leaves sickness in their wake. I lived, because my parents got me into a rad-suit and a bunker. One they didn't know about. Not yet." You recounted, once again falling into more clipped speech patterns to not linger on the sensation.
"It took an eyeblink for most of in their way to crumble into radioactive jelly. Looking at that horrid, tentacled thing made my eyes hurt. I didn't want to stare too closely. but the Freelancer Armaud Svihaly injured them enough to force them to turn back. Mommy and Daddy, they fought. Hard, even as their bodies failed, just being near Klavix was killing them as their shielding failed and armour couldn't handle it. But they fought, with all they had left." Blinking away a few tears now, you looked weak, you hated looking weak.
"When Klavix was turned away, it was too late; the nearby restore stations were nonfunctional, Svihaly's ship had taken damage. They were melted in their own armour. And Svihaly wouldn't even let me take off their helmets...told me that...I wouldn't like what I saw. And like a stupid child I ignored her. I saw the sludge that the human body becomes when you break its compounds down. And their armour, like a joke...kept them alive just long enough...to say goodbye..." You sobbed now, grabbing at a tissue before she could offer one to you and wiping your eyes before blowing your nose, wiping your face and huffing.
"I can see their broken, melted ooze still. In my nightmares, the engrams in their armour suit passing out final words before the subsystems failed because their flesh was stinking...awful...fleshy gruel...Carbon, oxygen, hydrogen, nitrogen, and a soup of particles and quarks and...the smell, Voidmaker the smell...all around me...worse than the ticking of radioactivity warnings..." You said, grabbing at a nearby trash can and them vomiting immediately when that scent started to crop up in your memory again, vividly as ever while yesterday's dinner came out in an acidic mess.
You pushed the trash can away, wiping at your mouth furiously with napkins until the smell was gone.
She was still there though, her expression no longer hard, no longer like a disappointed mother. Just...very worried.
"I can't imagine what it was like. And...I don't think I'd ever be able to sleep calmly at night with that in my head. I'm sorry for what you went through. But...if your parents were willing to fight like that, despite knowing they couldn't win, they must have loved you very much." She said with the most sympathetic voice she could manage.
"They could have let Svihaly handle it. She was a N'Kren, a Freelancer. She could handle it. But they had to be stupid and follow orders. Keep people alive, keep people safe. Because they were good soldiers who didn't hesitate to die for comrade and country. They could have lived if they just questioned...asked whether they needed to do that..."You said, melancholic now and looking at your boots, tapping a foot against the ground in a nervous reflex.
"Is that why you're suspicious of authority figures?"
"What is the point of giving orders that end in death? My parents died because they followed orders. My world died because Klavix's Templar-Crusader followed orders. Because people don't question, because they don't look behind the curtain. To ask whether any of this is just...necessary. Because people don't have principles." You seethed, folding your arms again and feeling your clammy, sweaty forehead and breathing in and out quickly.
"Many people feel that doing something they were told to abrogates some degree of responsibility for their actions, even all of it. It's a complicated matter, legally, philosophically, psychologically. But you're not the only person who's given it a lot of thought. You're Jewish right? I think you should ha-"
"Please...do not bring up the Shoah so lightly, gentile." You hissed clutching at the sides of your head.
"I understand. Would you like some water, coffee perhaps?" She offered, standing up to the instant coffee machine and looking back at you.
"Your coffee is full of poor quality ingredients and I can taste the inferior manufacturing methods in the instant mix to the last molecule...but sure." You offered a small smile as she nodded and made the cup. She left you there with your thoughts for a bit, while you reflected on how you had come here so adamantly sure that you would reveal nothing only for her to make you feel bad about holding out on her anyway. You...you needed to work on that clearly, but she seemed nice. So you were just being magnanimous. That had to be it...yeah...
She asked you some more questions about what happened on Udraniv on that day. You answered. Rotely, trying to not focus on the sensations you experienced. Too painful, nauseating.
Who attacked? The Ivasti Star-Serenity.
Who are they? A Theocratic Superpower at the helm of a power bloc known as the Istral Domain. Monotheistic fanatics devoted to the service of what they call Ivastrom; the Wisdom Giver. Their one true God, the one they said gave them magic and psionics, and the conquests in the name of had made them powerful and wealthy.
Why did they attack? You didn't know, Umbhar relics uncovered earlier might have been behind it, but it was unlikely they knew about them unless there were spies on Udraniv. They often raided the planet, to test the defences of the FTL interdiction hub and fortress system. That time though, they came in numbers to eclipse the twin suns and the firepower that ended galaxies.
What is your favourite part of exploring? Seeing new and interesting things that you haven't had a chance to directly experience before.
What do you think of the world of 2011? Primitive, unfinished, the air is disgusting, a lot of the food is awful, and the media of the current era has a hard time stimulating your interest or catching your attention.
What about the politics of the world? You sneered about Liberals and their unwillingness to dive into material circumstances instead of just accepting ephemeral natures as explanations to events, all the people of political and economic power in this country are contemptible and you didn't really like America even when it was just a footnote in the margins of pre-spacefaring history texts alongside the likes of Nazi Germany or the British Empire.
She handed you the cup when she had mixed it to what she had guessed would be your likely preference and wrote into her book.
Agafya Elenovna Sokolova does show signs of intense post-traumatic stress disorder as well as some degree of what we would likely consider abusive or neglectful parenting. While not as intentionally malicious as Arne's parenting by Zurvduat, the Night Matron appears to be far too willing to let Agafya believe she needs to push herself to dangerous extremes while failing to understand a broad range of human wants and needs. The Shade-Sire on the other hand seems to be negatively encouraging; allowing or encouraging her to indulge herself in dangerous activities or methods of training. However they do seem to be benign, as they took care of and nurtured her with a significant deal of empathy despite their frequent coldness, with the harmful aspects of her upbringing appearing to be born mostly from ignorance rather than malice.
And given her desire to be the best, to exceed all others, seemingly driven by a sensation of helplessness during the attack on her homeworld; it is easy to see why the Umbhar decided that allowing her to take dangerous and unsafe methods of training upon herself was the best possible solution to her happiness. The nature of her Homeworld's attackers also goes a long way to explaining her distrust and distaste for organised and monotheistic religions despite being rather spiritual herself, albeit given that she seems to be certain of material proof of the existence of the figures she gives her devotion to it can be questioned as to whether she could be said to be religious in a conventional sense rather than simply respectful of beings she considers to be just a part of life.
She seems to be highly sensual and lets her desires to experience drive much of her actions. Like the rest of her circle of friends, she is politically left-wing and seems to resent a lot of the underpinnings of western socio-economic systems and ideological axioms. That being said, she seems more familiar with the idea and concept of money than Arne or Samus; albeit due to cynical reasons of wanting to understand what drives people to do things. Curiosity is a trait common to the group, but she seems to be the most fundamentally curious, even if she is very secretive about it. Novelty and exploration are her spices of life, and she is strongly concerned for others, and seems to be very uncomfortable with the idea of people she believes aren't equipped to handle a situation risk themselves in it.
"Now...I think you'll be very unsurprised to know that I am going to have to dig into your habit of seeking fights." She said, an exasperated sigh coming form you as you folded your arms and looked at her.
"It's fun, it's exciting. And there's so many interesting types of opponents to pit myself against. Besides, how am I supposed to help people if I don't keep sharp? It would be selfish for me to not step in when I can." You replied, already bracing yourself for any number of stupid questions about this or that thing.
"What do you feel when you get into a fight?" She clicked her pen again. Annoying habit.
"If it's not challenging? Relaxation, just letting go of stress and feeling satisfied. If it is challenging or compelling at least? Catharsis, thrill. It makes me feel alive. Like lightning going through me, but pleasant instead of painful. Confirming that I have gotten better, testing new techniques, new abilities, new equipment...getting better." You said, a grin on your face as you spoke.
"Hrm, is that why you seem to prefer engagements with smaller numbers of particularly skilled enemies?" She asked as you gave a nod.
"Besides, it's not like I get into trouble in those fights anyway." You shrugged.
"You put Scapegoat in the hospital."
"He was a creep." You scoffed while she looked at the papers she was pulling out and blinked.
"You broke ninety percent of the bones in his body Agafya."
"Not my fault he couldn't handle a tap. It wasn't even a good fight." You rolled your eyes.
"You also moved away from the rest of your team numerous times to fight the most prominent members of the Council present in their attempted invasion of Hawaii. I have transcripts of some of the complaints about that behaviour here actually..." She flipped some pages on her binder while you let out a groan.
"If I did not take on Hypernova who would have? Everyone else was busy and I had nothing better to do. Keeping him and his Cluster out of the fight saved that row of pretty ships everyone was so concerned about." You pointed out, widening your hands and then making a "come ooooonnnn" gesture towards her while she raised a brow.
She chewed slightly at the end of her pen while she gave what you had said to her a bit of thought for a while before she looked you in the eyes more sternly this time. You could mash her to pulp with a thought yourself but...was that wise? No it wasn't. Nothing would be gained, everyone would hate you for it. Bad, bad intrusive thoughts.
"Agafya, it's fine to enjoy a good spar for the challenge and the exercise. But throwing yourself into fights specifically for the enjoyment of combat is not a healthy attitude to approach fights with. Especially when you diverge from plans set up by team mates to chase after enjoyment." She said, sighing as she prepared for whatever response you'd make. Clearly expecting you to get snippy with her in response.
"If fighting is my job, my mission, why shouldn't I enjoy it? It is what I am best at. It is what I chose to be. Isn't it better if I find purpose in it? If it makes me happy? Things make sense in a fight. Action has reaction. Cause and effect, what to do is always clear. There are stakes and there are risks. There are possibilities and opportunities. It's just..." You stopped and pinched your brow for a bit while you thought of words to say, breathing in and out for a scant moment.
"I have lived my life with often little sensation, in deprivation. In the dark. Battle is a riot of noise and smell and colour and feeling. Fighting can accomplish things, it can give purpose where there isn't any, and most of all...every move matters. Every thing I do changes something. And there's just so much feeling behind it. So yes..." You continued, waiting for her response and then deciding you'd rather not.
"I enjoy violence. I enjoy a good brawl or a good bedbump or a good breakfast. How am I supposed to help things be better if I don't experience them? We live in a world of deceit, of misery, and anguish. Why not have fun with fixing it? Why does everything have to be a serious chore? I want to help, I need to help...I just also have fun doing it." You explained, finishing up an dleaning back in your chair, arms folded and eyes dead focused in front of you.
"If you let violence be entertainment rather than necessity, you will run the risk of encouraging or even causing it where it doesn't need to be at all. I'm not suggesting you to become a pacifist or an ascetic. You don't even have to stop enjoying what you do but..." She sighed, closing her eyes, resting her hands on her knees and then opening them up again.
"You shouldn't see it as a game. You shouldn't revel in it, not as if it were just something for fun when you're dealing with real lives and real harm. What do you think people would say if you enjoyed the battle for Los Angeles?" She concluded, her question lingering over you as you shook your head.
"I wouldn't care. I'd still help them anyway. I'm not going to let disagreements over how to conduct myself stop me from helping people who need it. If I start doing that, where do I stop? Do I let people I dislike die?" You responded with a somewhat harsh voice.
"I'm not suggesting that at all. I'm suggesting that finding fun in violence is probably the wrong angle to approach your task in. Why not try to find solace in accomplishing your missions, in helping people or preventing harm? The actual violence and adrenaline rush of a fight is only a small part of a hero's work. And it should never be seen as the fun part." She replied, trying her best to be gentle while you squinted a bit at her and huffed.
"I enjoy those things too." You replied simply, as if this shut down all further arguments.
"Our time is almost up but I'm going to have to ask you to consider whether more people are helped by you finding your happiness in causing good rather than preventing evil." She said, the words getting a bit of a glare out of you.
"Why not both?"
"Because I've seen too many people go down very dark roads when they were more concerned with punching bad people than helping good ones." She responded as she wrote down her final notes.
Agafya has the classic Adrenaline Junkie attitude as part and parcel of her general hedonism. As many have noted, she often seeks out fights for the simple sake of fighting and buries herself in often extreme physical activities in an attempt to find ecstasy in high-energy and high-impact behaviours. While extremely creative, my general stance on the attitude of coming to enjoy the fights that are so frequently part of cape activity is a dangerous coping mechanism; no more desireable than it would be for a law enforcement officer or a soldier to start enjoying unsimulated life or death combat. We can find purpose, clarity, or at least certainty when engaged in violent altercations yes, but when we start to enjoy combat is when we start to risk causing harm rather than working to prevent it. Fighting should be seen as a more solemn, serious matter. We have video games and sparring sessions for when we want to do it for fun. My hope is that I can get Agafya to find her happiness in helping, rather than harming.
Overall though, I wouldn't try to disbar her from her duties. While I am starting to suspect some manner of metaphysical thread connecting this friend group together, destiny if you'd like; as odd as that sounds; my recommendation stems from more than that. Or the fact that it would be nearly impossible to stop her if she wanted to go. It's because I think that learning to trust, rely on, and help others is something that will best come from learning to be a better hero. There is no school setting that would accommodate her stimulation needs, and trying to disbar her would only feed into her paranoia and prompt her to find ways to get her way without any possibility of restraint. We are dealing with children after all, and going cold turkey rarely works as anything but a further incentive to taste the forbidden fruit. I do however, wish I could speak to these aliens that raised these children or their non-"inheritor" friends from their reality...I feel like I'm missing an important piece of the puzzle.
"Well, I'm hoping you'll be here for the next appointment. While we got off to a somewhat rocky start, I do think that this was a productive use of time, and I hope you feel the same." Yamada said as she stood up and offered a hand that you took and shook.
"Yeah...ups and downs but I guess it wasn't a waste of time. I will be keeping an eye on you though." You replied, your lack of typical sarcastic intonation making her gulp a bit.
"I believe it." She responded as you looked behind you.
"Sevrin yes?" You asked before he opened the door and stood at ease with that usual golden boy smile on his face that drew a smile from yours.
"See...no need to call him up." You said as he nodded at you and then at Yamada.
"Ahah, I try to be punctual." He laughed as you two shared a brief cheek kiss and then went into the waiting room, taking a look at Samus and Arne leaning on each other and reading through a book about animals together.
"...Adorable..." You murmured.
