Nascency ~P~

Altar's eyes slowly opened to the dull pitter patter of rain, tapping at his window like the fingers of the hands that tried to drag him to hell. Speaking of dragging, his eyelids weighed heavy, his body threatening to drift back into slumber.

"Keep fighting!"
"Wake up. Things to do."
"It's so cramped in here..."

Fuck.

Heeding the two useful and familiar voices of Nekoda and Kalamity, the boy rose from his bed, shrugging the sleep from himself. The boy would run a hand gently across the Tralativa seal on his stomach, only now noting the seven small marks that circled the symbol. His body still ached. But it would go away with time. And effort. Maybe. Hopefully. Or so the boy thought, as he threw on his clothes and overcoat and made his way out into the rain.

The streets weren't as lively as they would normally be. It was already late morning, but the sprinkling rain seemed to keep people indoors, at home. He would have been home again by now with Nekoda and Kalamity, if his feet would stop. However, as though they had a mind of their own, his feet moved on, and his body followed.

He didn't know why he ended up where he did. He stood outside the door to the building he knew Haru resided in. However, his chakra signature was absent. Perhaps there was no one home. The boy would knock once, twice, before scoffing at himself and pushing the door open.

He didn't know why he was here. Perhaps he wanted to talk with his mentor and friend, try and ask him why he had left in the first place. Perhaps he wanted to tell the man he still believed, or maybe that he was disappointed in him. Or maybe, after all that Xyxer had instilled in him, the boy had simply come seeking confrontation. He didn't truly know himself. But here he was nonetheless.

"Hellooooo? Anyone home?" the young ANBU would call out to the house, pushing his hands into his pockets.

These days, the sound of rain pattering against the roof was the only company she could hope for. The empty house never felt more lonely, and as the heiress sat in the corner of the room, alone, she remembered all that she had once had. It had started with her mother. She’d never met the woman by whom she’d been brought into the world, though she had seen pictures, and heard her father speak of her, in the deepest depths of her memories. A picture of her still hung on the wall, even in this house, so far from Tengakure, so far from home. She was beautiful. Her long, flowing blonde hair shone in the sunlight and appeared almost silver in the sunlight. She was wearing a flowing blue dress, standing atop a roof in the village they’d grown up in. Two weathered hands were wrapped around her waist, and a man peeked around her shoulder, his eyes white as snow, yet alight with joy. His hair, prematurely grey, was shaggy, reaching all the way down to his neck. He was short, much more so than most men his age, yet thankfully no smaller than his wife. He wore the robes of the Hyuuga clan, which draped over his shoulders and his arms, flowing in the breeze of Tengakure.

He looked just like her brother, and indeed, his name was Haru Hyuuga. Looking back at her from the picture were the faces her parents, frozen and time, eternally unmoving. Here, they were long dead, but there, they were immortal, watching her with joy-filled eyes forever more. Her father hadn’t been in her life for very long. She had but the smallest, most fleeting memories of him. She hadn’t even reached five years of age when he too vanished from their life forever. Even then, however, she’d been crushed by the loss. She’d withdrawn into her own mind, and the world was dead to her. She remembered being taken in by her grandparents, who comforted her and her brother, who whispered sweet assurances and patted her on the head. She remembered how she said nothing, unmoving, unfeeling. Broken. Always broken. Throughout her entire life, Aryll had retreated back into her shell, like an insect retreating from a threat it couldn’t fight. She’d always hidden herself away from her problems, unable to face them herself.

Her brother had always been stronger than she. When they had lost their father, he was the first to recover. He seemed to draw strength from their father’s death, as if it had somehow made him better. She remembered the day he said he was becoming a shinobi. The fearful look in the eyes of their grandmother, Kuni, who had served as a medical ninja herself. The pride on the face of their grandfather, Haru Senior, whose face poorly hid the pain in his eyes. Haru trained relentlessly. He had mastered his academy jutsu within a month, and his own personal taijutsu training was quickly leading him to become one of the very fastest students in the academy. He passed his exams with flying colors, all the while, Aryll watched silently from the sidelines, unmoving, unfeeling. Broken.

When Haru became a genin, his training only redoubled in intensity. She remembered how fast he grew. She had vivid memories of him taking their dog and chasing him through an old warehouse, trying to track him with his byakugan as he began to master the art of controlling it. That was when he finally convinced Aryll that she should stop moping. His absolute determination and tenacity inspired Aryll, and she began to idolize her brother. Training with Haru had given Aryll all the confidence and resolve that she’d needed. She remembered the first time Haru had asked her to train with him vividly, because she remembered seeing for the first time that Haru was indeed incredibly powerful, and someone she needed to chase if she wanted to get stronger. As she thought on that, her mind drifted to their first time training together, their first time in an actual fight against each other...

Aryll recoiled as Haru stabbed at the shadow clone's thigh, swinging the blade of his weapon at the throat of the clone as it recoiled from the stab. As the blade made contact, the clone splashed into a huge puddle, all of which returned to the waters of the huge, olympic sized pool that she was drawing Suiton from in order to use the technique.
"Nice! Keep going!" Aryll shouted at Haru, already making another clone for Haru to fight. They had reached a mutual agreement, to help each other train for their upcoming exams (Aryll had the Genin exams, Haru had the Chunin exams). Aryll remembered Haru’s face flashing with a pang of guilt as he slaughtered the waves of clones, that she sent at him, all appearing Identical to his sister. Aryll was making as many water clones as she could, sending them to attack Haru, two at a time, creating another as soon as Haru defeated the clone, so that as soon as one fell, another took its place.

As Haru grappled with the first clone, the second of the clones jumped on his back, spinning him so he faced another clone, who aimed a kick at his shins. Haru headbutted clone number one off of his back, spinning around the other to dodge, and kicked her into clone number two, disintegrating both of them. Haru spun his tomahawk deftly in his hand, taunting her.
Haru shouted a taunt at his sister and raised his hands defensively, readying himself for another wave of clones. Rising to his challenge, Aryll concentrated, summoning a mob of clones to charge him down. Haru grinned, running at the mob, and jumping at the last second, tucking in his legs, left arm back, right arm holding a weapon ahead of his body. He landed on the first clone, piercing it's head and dissipating it. He hooked his weapon around the clone to his right's ankle, tripping her, before striking at her in the stomach and causing her to burst into a pool of water. He activated his Byakugan, and time seemed to slow, as he checked his surroundings.
They'd already surrounded him, and more were on the way, grabbing weapons from the racks as they came, or picking them up from their fallen sisters. He charged the nearest clone, jumping at the last second, tucking his legs in, before kicking at her and knocking her to the ground, dissipating her. He struck at the clone behind her, spinning around her as she fell to the floor, dissipating. He was ankle-deep in water now, which was all flowing back to the pool, from which Aryll was making the clones.

As he came around, a clone looking very over encumbered with a battle axe in hand, swinging it wildly at him. Haru caught the axe by the blade, headbutting her and freeing the axe from her grip, swinging it around, and back at her. Not even waiting for her to dissipate, he dropped the axe and lunged at a clone to his left with his hidden blade. She jumped back, out of his reach, before swinging a sword down at him. He caught the sword, headbutting her, before noticing with his byakugan that another clone was trying to hit him from behind. Laughing maniacally, Haru twisted the sword in her hands to deflect the blow, before turning it back on her, inflicting a death blow. He turned back on the clone behind him, tripping her, and striking down with the blade.

Aryll shook her head as the visions of combat rushed through her mind. She’d battled with her brother like that many times, and she’d always marveled at how ruthless he was in combat. Haru was not afraid to go for the kill, and though he resented doing it to his own sister, he did not hesitate. She respected that immensely.

It was rather ironic that her own brother dealt the blow that nearly killed her, and now was unable to save her. He’d lost sight of himself in his last battle, and Aryll had paid the price for it. She sat there in her chair, a vacant expression sat on her face. Just as when she had lost her family before, Aryll seemed to be giving up hope. The hospital had decided there was nothing else they could do for her. Aryll had made a complete physical recovery. The fact that she wasn’t able to use her legs was not one that the Kirigakure medical ninja could change.
It was ironic now that the man who had inspired her to get on her feet and begin her career as a Kunoichi was the very same who shattered her body with a careless, vengeful attack upon her friend. It was ironic how the same man who’d once been everything to her had now taken everything from her. It was sad that she’d never see him again. She was happy she wouldn’t. All these conflicting emotions stirred and writhed in Aryll’s mind. The notions gave her a headache, and made her want to cast them all aside. It was pointless to dwell on these thoughts, as they gave her neither solace nor comfort. Really, they only served to bother her even more.

Then came that fateful night. She remembered it well. She had watched her grandfather fall, his arm cut clean off, and soon after his grandmother too. Strangely, she had been spared, perhaps because their attacker grew a conscious at the last moment. Too little, too late. They were both gone. Haru arrived shortly after to the news, and his rage was intense. She knew he had fought the Mizukage upon receiving the revelation, for Xyxer had returned with him and cared for Haru until the morning came. He’d even brought that kid, Monarch or something, for Aryll to wail on while he waited. She nearly smiled at the thought. And then, the feeling that she should not smile, could not smile, dawned on her once more. She pushed these thoughts away, her vacant stare fixated on the wall.

This was the way Aryll had always operated. If a though didn’t suit her, she’d merely push it away. It had gotten her through many hardships. It’d saved her from the brink of destruction when her father died, it’d saved her from devolving into nothing when their grandparents were murdered… But would it save her from what she was doing to herself now? Could she come back from this? Could she ever be the same, now that she was broken and useless? She was nothing now, her career as a Shinobi was all but finished. She must have been so pathetic, still crippled, not physically, but mentally. What a sorry case she was. Xyxer was right to abandon her, one so weak that even when her body was healed, her mind could not carry one. One so weak that every loss she experienced derailed her life completely. One so weak that she could not even stop her brother from throwing both of their lives away. One so weak…

One so weak… One so weak… One so weak... One so weak… One so weak…

She was pathetic. As tears dripped down Aryll’s face, her white eyes glazed, she looked down at herself, at what she had become. She was nothing. She was broken. She was weak. She was pathetic. Xyxer had given up on her because she was disgusting. The fact that she was so willing to throw her own life away at any mere bump in the road attested to that. She wasn’t a Kunoichi, she was a child, crying over spilt milk and lost causes. So she couldn’t walk, what did it matter? What did it do to set her back? Hardly anything. Aryll Hyuuga was one who could construct giant automatons to use in battle, and here she was crying that she couldn’t walk. Crying like the spoiled brat she’d always been. The heiress of the Hyuuga clan had fallen from grace, just as her brother had, and now she was nothing. Disgusting, disappointing, useless. She had failed as a daughter, a sister, a granddaughter, and now as a shinobi. She wasn’t even any good as an heiress. She was nothing now, broken and useless.

Aryll’s features sharpened as she blinked, and with a sigh, she glanced around the room. Not a soul was there to comfort her, of course. Aryll was alone, completely helpless. Like she always was. What the hell was she doing? Sitting here moping, like she always did. Like she always did. Like she always did. Haru never moped, nor did grandpa, nor did grandma. The only one who lost their nerve like Aryll did was her father, and he was dead. He wasn’t strong enough to live in this world, and he paid the price for it when he let his guard down.

Aryll’s head rose as she looked back upon the visage of her parents. Could she really just give up like this? Throw away her whole career because of this? Because her idiot brother didn’t know his own strength? No… She couldn’t bring herself to that. She knew why Xyxer had silenced himself as he did. He was ashamed of her. Ashamed that she would let this stop her. Aryll Hyuuga, heiress of the Hyuuga clan, defeated by her own incompetence. Although her mind would no longer allow her to walk, she was not about to let it ruin the only thing she had left. They’d taken mother and father, they’d taken grandma and grandpa, and Haru had gone and gotten himself thrown in prison. Now, all that remained was Xyxer, who couldn’t bear to look upon her. Aryll would not allow herself to sink this low. It would take her time to recover, but time was something she had in excess.

Glancing out the window, she saw that the sun was now setting. At the crack of dawn, the next morning, she would commence her new life. With the rising of the sun, Aryll Hyuuga would be born anew, invigorated by this newfound motivation. Aryll pushed her chair to the hallway, looking up the stairs, the ones that Haru had raced up to defend her, and the one that he’d been dragged back down by the ANBU, with Aryll in tow shortly after, in the arms of Xyxer Gyojin himself. She shuddered as her eyes began playing tricks on her, and she saw…

She saw herself, as she sat at her desk, tinkering with several large slabs of metal, as she had been on the day of the accident. As always, her room an absolute and total mess. Cogs, gears, wheels and sheets of metal and boxes of entangled wires adorned the desk, the floor around it, and most of the room. She noticed that two wheels were leaned up against her chair, and she couldn’t suppress a sigh and a roll of her eyes. Moments like these were the ones that assured her that there had to be a god, some sort of creator, however cruel, twisted, or misguided they might be. The irony of the situation was too perfect to be mere coincidence. It was almost like a signature, a calling card… A maker’s mark. The distinctly familiar scent of oil flooded her nostrils, reminding her of the days when she had used her room as a workshop. Her brother had always despised the fact that she “Rolled around in oil all night like a savage. We’re Hyuuga, we are better than this.” He often complained of the smell corroding the house and making him feel as if he lived on the streets. Big talk from someone who seems to have forgotten his room in Tengakure was exactly the same. The only difference was that Aryll was better at building shit then he was. Aryll’s eyes widened as she realized she was following the exact train of thought as she had before, as if she were experiencing it all again, just as vividly and powerfully as before.

She watched herself working on the arm of what would one day become Thane, and for a moment, she saw that her brother loomed in the doorway, watching her. No doubt the man had been aware that Xyxer would be coming to see her soon, and there was no doubt in Aryll’s mind that he despised these visits. She never really cared. Looking back, she wondered what so tormented him about it all. She wondered if he’d been planning it from the start, if he really had done all of this by design, and if he’d truly decided in that moment that he was going to kill Xyxer Gyojin, and use Aryll Hyuuga, his very sister, the very thing he’d sought to hold on to, and the only reason he’d returned to Kirigakure, as a means of getting close to the man called Xyxer, of getting him to let his guard down. Indeed, it would have been a good plan, but Aryll somehow doubted it. Though he’d no doubt had a change of character, she doubted that he’d gone that far over the edge. Her brother was still her brother, and she didn’t think he’d ever do anything to hurt her. Then again… The clicking wheels of the chair she sat in reminded her every day of the mistake he’d made, and what exactly it had cost her, his poor, dear sister, all alone in the Hyuuga manor, with no one left to care for her. With no one left to care, period.

As she watched her former self work, gazing longingly and enviously at her own slender legs, she saw her past self look up from her work in order to glance over her shoulder at the massive piece of metal leaned up against the wall, extending out of her room and into the hallway, and into the adjacent closet. The huge sheet of metal was probably twenty feet long, and blunted, as if it had yet to be sharpened. She remembered it very well. She remembered what she’d watched that massive, tentacled beast do with that huge blade she’d created. The very thing she’d made to protect herself had been used to sentence her brother to death. She’d saved him, but at what cost? She remembered thinking to herself that even if one stepped right onto the blade, it would probably do no damage. How wrong she’d been. Xyxer’s power was such that even this practically useless instrument was lethal. She felt herself regretful of the massive amount of effort she’d needed to feed this huge blade in through the window, and then forge it further from inside the house itself. She remembered noticing that her brother stayed silent on the matter, and she felt herself shudder with the further pangs of guilt. As her former self stood from the desk, Aryll’s features flattened into a cringe of disgust, her eyes averting to her own useless legs. The old her hopped casually over the leg, spry and unburdened by her impending loss, as she pranced over to the window to watch for Xyxer to come, to save her from the dreadful boredom of this place, to take her away for her few precious moments away from this cold house.

Aryll felt herself screaming suddenly, and her vision shifted. She was looking at the stairs again, screaming wildly. Her screams quickly died into pouting, as tears glistened across her face. She was staring up the stairs again, the ones she dared not return to, the ones she couldn’t scale even if she wanted to. She wiped away the tears and sighed, her composure returning as she turned her chair and continued down the hall to the kitchen. She had not eaten all night, all day, all… Hell, she could not seem to remember the last time she’d eaten, at least, not since the accident. She recalled being practically force fed some disgusting mixture of water and some sort of fruit at while she was in that bed, but she hadn’t had an appetite since she’d returned. Even now she had no desire whatsoever to consume anything of the sort, but she knew that she had to eat something if she wanted to stay healthy, and if she wanted to train, she needed to stay healthy. Such is life, and the short of it was that Aryll needed food.

As she opened the fridge, she pondered getting the place renovated so that it was more accessible to her. Maybe even getting a roommate. That was a thought that tickled her. She knew the clan wouldn’t like her moving again, especially now that their house had been established as a full Hyuuga residence. For whatever that was worth, at least. Perhaps some day the clan would actually send Hyuuga to live there. It was amusing that they had appointed Haru as head of the clan when he had not had any dealings with the clan, or really, of other villages. Perhaps it was merely because he was screwing the Uzumaki clan head.

Oh yes, Aryll had known all about that. Haru’s awkward, cringe worthy relationship was the source of many laughs from Aryll. The two had only met in a sort of secret rendezvous fashion, as if he was ashamed of bringing her around the house, but Aryll had seen him working that day. She’d watched him with her byakugan, as the young girl often had. She had idolized Haru, after all, and any day she could watch him work or go on a mission, she’d often taken the chance. She was actually quite sneaky about the whole thing.

She saw Haru meet the girl, question her, then bring her back and even rent a hotel room. At a certain point, disgusted, Aryll had finally gone away. She didn’t need those details filled in. No, indeed, she returned home after watching that… Ordeal, and she’d even covered for Haru when Gran and Grandpa asked where he was. She explained that he’d sent a letter saying he’d be off on important business for the night, and not to expect him to return until the next day. Oh, how lucky Haru had been to have a sister like Aryll.

Then she’d returned again, that girl who seemed to take have taken a keen interest in her brother. Aryll hadn’t expected to ever see her again. The whole encounter was quite out of character for Haru, and while perhaps they were just his repressed desires finally coming out for one short moment, it seemed now he had to face the music. She watched her profess her love for him, watched Haru awkwardly squirm as he responded in kind, and actually rolled over with laughter at the occurrence.

She’d since learned that Haru had taken several trips to Konohagakure in order to visit her, the little scamp, and while she’d prefer it be left to the imagination what happened there, she knew that the girl was the head of the Uzumaki clan, and she knew that it would have been a fantastic political move for the Hyuuga if the two had been married. She figured it was only a matter of time before Haru was trapped in that situation forever. Poor, awkward Haru, whom Aryll believed never really had any special interest in girls. Maybe she’d been wrong, but she was pretty good at spotting a fake, or at least, so she thought. Then again, maybe she wasn’t. Maybe Xyxer was faking their entire friendship, as well. Maybe she really was clueless.

She smiled for the first time in a long time. Then she frowned. Her brother wasn’t here. She couldn’t share the sentiment with him. Shaking the negative thoughts from her mind, she focused on the matter at hand: Her dinner. Indeed, she did need food in the worst kind of way. Opening the fridge, she saw that she was nearly out of food. She’d have to go to the market eventually, and figure out how the hell she was going to shop for groceries. She’d been out on shopping trips many times with her family, though she’d ever only paid attention to things that interested her. She’d never needed to get food or anything of the sort, and so was clueless as to how she was to feed herself. For the moment, however, she needed not to worry herself with such mundane concerns. No, for now, she’d just have to make herself a half assed dinner.

Because she was alone, and because she only really knew how to cook one thing, Aryll retrieved a donabe pot from the cupboard, shooting a few chakra threads from her fingers and swinging open the door on the hinges, easing the pot out of the cupboard and down onto the counter. That done, Aryll popped open the fridge and retrieved whatever she could find. Annoyed, she noted that they had no stock. Instead, she retrieved some kombu and bonito flakes, combining them in the donabe pot and setting it under the sink, filling it with water. She set the pot on the stove and twisted a timer. She’d have to wait awhile for the Dashi to be ready. In the meantime, she moved to the counter. She sat there, pulling a book from a pile of works that she had borrowed from the Grand Kirigakure Academy for training purposes, deciding to study a technique that she’d heard talk of during her early training in the art of puppetry.

The name was unbearably long, somewhat annoying to repeat. As much as she wanted to simply call it “Human Puppetry,” someone had already claimed the patent on that one, apparently. So, she’d stick with the original title: Skillful Achievement with the Human Body. Such a mouthful. As she read about the the technique, she put her hand over the initial description of the technique, reading through it once more, out loud so that she might better understand it.

“A puppet performance technique where chakra threads are attached to various spots on a person's body; the head, torso, both arms, and both legs. The person being manipulated gains the ability to not only use their own techniques, but the skills of the puppeteer as well.
The origins of this technique lie on the battlefield. When a puppeteer's puppets were all destroyed, they would begin using corpses. To perform this technique with a living person would normally require both parties to cooperate with each other. However, a highly skilled user can control the target by force if the person is severely weakened or damaged rendering them unable to resist.”

“Interesting…” She muttered. This definitely seemed like a badass technique, one that you did not want to find yourself coming up against in combat, she could imagine. Having control wrenched from you by force… Well, Aryll knew a thing or two about that, and she knew how demoralizing it was. As the pot began to simmer, Aryll glanced back, checking on the progress of her meal. The dashi was boiling along nicely, however, she’d have to give it at least a half hour before it was ready. Shrugging, she continued to read, engrossed in the literature. Once again, the flame seemed to have been lit in her heart for combat, and though she would likely never fight again, at least in the way she once did, she took solace in the fact that she wouldn’t be left out forever. She could still fight. She was still a force to be reckoned with, she’d just have to get creative with her methods. Thane would allow her to get in close just as before, with massive reach and fantastic combat capabilities.

She continued to pore over the book from the Grand Kirigakure Academy, engrossed and consumed by her reading. If grandma or grandpa had been there, they might have been refreshed at her newly found enthusiasm for her work. Haru might have scowled, but he would have had to hide a small smile. She knew her family so well, sometimes she forgot they were gone. Sometimes this place didn’t feel so lonely for a short time. The reality always returned, however. It was always like this. She wondered idly if she would ever be able to hire someone to care for her. Somehow she felt like the clan would see that as weakness. Maybe she could convince a friend to move into this house, so it didn’t feel quite so lonely. The huge Hyuuga manor was not a place for a small girl like Aryll to live all on her own. No, this place held too many bad memories for Aryll to want to stay, and yet, she felt herself being compelled to do just that. To leave would be to give up, to show weakness, to kneel. She could not let herself do that. Ever. Do do so would be to humiliate her clan and to dishonor Xyxer Gyojin, the one who had given her so much, and the one she desperately desired to impress. She wanted to prove herself to him again. To prove that she wasn’t worthless, that she wasn’t broken beyond use. She would prove herself useful to him yet.

Lost in thought and in her reading, she hardly noticed as the pot began to boil over. As the sizzling water poured over the rim of the pot, Aryll looked up from her book, which she had been lazily turning the pages of with chakra threads, and hastily pushed her chair across the room, turning down the heat and swabbing up the broth that boiled over. Now that the Dashi was finished, she wafted some of the smoky aroma to herself, smiling before returning to the fridge, taking what remained of the ingredients and tossing them into the pot. Beef, carrots, leeks, a slab of tofu, and all manner of vegetables filled the donabe pot until there was plenty of food to last Aryll a few days, assuming she had leftovers. She set a lid on the pot and let it simmer, watching the clock as she waited for her food to finally finish cooking. The anticipation was killing her, as her stomach seemed to have finally woken up and realized how desperately hungry Aryll was. She’d done not much of anything for the past few days, and the sudden ravenous hunger for the undercooked soup filled Aryll’s mind and dominated her thoughts.

Still she managed to keep herself under control, her newly acquired discipline managing to keep her fixated on her book, with which she studied as many puppetry techniques as she was able. Well, she studied one technique in particular, the possessor of the absolute longest name for any technique that had been ever created, the Skillful Achievement with the Human Body technique. It was a shame that Aryll didn’t have a live specimen to practice on, but… Well, in theory, Aryll would be able to control anything, both living in dead.

Without really thinking much about what she was doing, Aryll placed a few fingers over her legs, and sent strings running along her skin, attaching to the pale skin of her slender legs. Her eyes widened with a mix of delight and horror as her formerly useless appendages sprung to life, moving erratically. Nervously, she set one foot before the other, manipulating her feet until they sprung from the foot rests on the chair, forcing her up and out of it, onto the hard tile floor of the kitchen. She tentatively flexed one of her toes, gasping in delight as she took a step across the room, and then another step, crossing the room until she returned to the donabe pot, reaching her hands out to lift it from the stove, only to find that her threads were removed as she clasped her hands against the pot, and she felt her legs give out under her very body, as she tumbled uselessly to the floor.

She lie there in a pool of spilled over broth, which her hair absorbed and left her smelling distinctly of beef. Strangely enough, she found that the tears she was expecting were nowhere to be found, this time. She didn’t cry, she felt no sorrow. How could she, when she’d only discovered this on a whim? She hadn’t built her hopes up at all for the experience, and frankly, it felt strange and unnatural to walk this way. She’d prefer the chair regardless, at this point, especially with how tiring it was to make use of that technique. She pulled herself across the floor, gripping the arms of her chair and pulling herself up into it, sighing in annoyance as she looked to the mess on the floor.

“Fuck.” She said, exasperated. She wheeled her chair quickly across the room, opening the hall closet and pulling the mop from it, filling the sink with soap and water and dipping the mop up into it. Feeling like a peasant, she dropped the mop to the floor, clumsily cleaning up what she’d spilled across the floor. Well, there went her dinner. She supposed she’d best just go out to eat at this point, since the contents of pot that was now shattered on the floor was all of the food she had left in the house.

As she finished mopping and cleaning up what remained of their pot, which had been in their family for many, many years, she sighed in frustration. She began to wheel herself towards the door to get herself a proper dinner, disappointed at the food she’d just wasted, when she realized that the strong smell of beef, tuna and seaweed emanating from her hair, which had absorbed the broth when she fell, was absolutely nauseating. She turned towards the bathroom, wheeling herself through the door and into the shower. She’d recently installed a seat so that she could sit in the shower without having to hold herself up with her arms by the bars like a monkey or something.

Setting herself into the shower, she let the warm water run down across her silver hair, the water tinged brown for a few seconds as the horrendous smell of the hot pot she was making earlier assaulted her nostrils. She applied some shampoo liberally to her silvery locks, washing away the disgusting odor from her hair and replacing it with an aroma that reminded one of the sea. It was comforting, and it almost made her forget about the disaster in the kitchen. One of her hands extended beyond the shower door, where she grasped a towel and dried her hands. She extended her grasp to the table beside the shower, lifting a book from its resting place there on the table. This one was different from the book she’d been reading previously. It was a book about the Hyuuga clan, also borrowed from the Grand Kirigakure Academy’s library.

Haru had made a wealth of knowledge available for the Hyuuga, and whilst the information was enlightening, it wasn’t truly useful to any but to a fellow Hyuuga. The technique she was currently studying wasn’t really a particular technique, merely the art of making a tenketsu needle and using it to attack the chakra circulatory system. It was interesting to Aryll because whilst she was unable to utilize her own eight trigrams stance anymore, she could still create the needles and use them to assault the chakra circulatory system. She placed two of her fingers together, flowing chakra to them experimentally. Yes, indeed, she’d never lost her ability to do this, and her natural flexibility had come in handy even after becoming disabled as she had. She continued reading as she hot water slowly began to cool, and Aryll had soon enough began to shiver from the cold of the shower, which had ran out of hot water. Sighing, she tossed the book aside and turned off the water, huddling herself under a towel and drying her body. She put her clothes back on and deposited herself into her chair once more. As she dried her hair, she caught sight of her reflection in the mirror.

The green cross above her forehead was there, as always, unobscured by her bangs. Aryll always tried to keep her hair or her headband over it, but in her private moments, she sometimes caught sight of it and just stared. It reminded her of a different time, and a different life. While the Hyuuga clan had recently become much more liberal and accepting, no longer enforcing the branch code, Aryll had been born before this change had gone underway, back when the Hyuuga were old school. Although Haru had always treated her well when they were kids, she was indeed his younger sister, and as such, was a part of the branch house, whilst that still existed, at least. The seal remained, the method of controlling her with it lost to time, but its meaning, its power, still present. Aryll sighed.

The green cross was redundant now, both because she would now be considered a part of the main branch, had it still existed, and because the branches no longer existed, regardless. It was nothing but a reminder of days come and gone, yet Aryll had never saw a need to have the seal removed. It reminded her of who she was, even (Nay, especially) now. If she died, it’d save her clan’s precious dojutsu, but that was really all there was as far as the seal’s usefulness went. It was practically ornamental. Still, keeping it sure seemed to piss off some of the Hyuuga diplomats, who wanted those dark days of the clan to be placed firmly into the past. Aryll keeping the seal was partially her way of humbling them, and reminding them of where they came from and what they once were. When they tried to get high and mighty, she would remind them that when she was but a child, she was ripped from her father’s arms, and this seal was inscribed upon her forehead, a permanent brand to remind her of what she was, and what she could never overcome. It was poetic, it was tragic, and it was everything Aryll needed to justify herself to the stuffy clan elders who seemed to scoff at her and her home.

She remembered the day when Haru inscribed a seal of his own upon his visage, that odd diamond that she could see an excess of chakra being stored within. It had been amusing to Aryll, whom had been forced to endure the branding process, that Haru had chosen to subject himself to a brand of his own, of his own accord. Why one would want a seal inscribed upon their forehead for all the world to see, she would never know. Aryll’s had been nothing but a mark of shame for a very long time, and now that she was finally able to remove it, she found that she had grown rather attached to it. It was something that reminded her of herself and her place, her purpose. She was an heiress of the Hyuuga clan, born in the branch house, forced to endure humiliation or exile, loved by her family just the same, and ascended to a leader of the Hyuuga. It all made for a wonderful sob story, but really, it was the least of Aryll’s worries. For the head of the Hyuuga clan, alone in a village without any other members of her family around to support her, the mark reminded Aryll of who she was and what she was here for. The book about the Hyuuga, amusingly, left out a lot of information about the mark upon her forehead. It seemed they wanted to erase it and what it stood for, and honestly, she understood why.

As she reflected on these thoughts, a knock on the door alerted her to someone in her midst. The manor hadn’t had a visitor in quite some time, and the last one had left the place carrying Aryll’s broken body. Could it be that Xyxer had finally come to care for her? Aryll hastily finished dressing and pushed through the door, her chair’s wheels spinning wildly as she took herself down the hallway and past the kitchen, through the parlor and towards the front door. The repetitive click of her wheels was a sound that would mark her approach to the door. That was when she heard a voice. A young voice, one that did not belong to Xyxer gyojin. Aryll sighed audibly.

She turned her chair towards the parlor, pushing herself towards the table and flicking on the lamp, which illuminated the room. She set her book back upon the stack of books she had borrowed from the academy, and turned her chair back towards the door, a vacant, collected expression on her face. This was likely one of the Hyuuga elders, come to speak to her again. She mustn't look a mess. When Aryll was finally prepared, she would raise her voice.

”Enter.”


(TWC: 6,873)

Click. Click. Click. Click.

What the hell was that sound? He'd figured it could've been a loose pipe, something damaged, but the house was in a complete state of repair. Well cared for and kept. It was somewhat ridiculous, really. If only his home could be this neat.

A sigh. The voice was unfamiliar, light and... feminine?

Click.

That one he knew. The familiar sound of a lamp switching on. He could see a room light up in his peripheral vision, the same direction the voice had come from earlier. When prompted to enter, Altar would shut the door behind him, and make his way into the newly lit room, perhaps a tad overcautious of the unfamiliar voice.

As he turned to the room, a strange sight came into view. A young girl, sat in a wheelchair, with a strange mark resting just above her forehead. The mark looked vaguely familiar, but nothing he knew well came to mind. The girl was a Hyuuga, if her origin could be judged by her eyes, and her hair was an almost shining shade of silver. The skin just below her eyes was tinted red ever so slightly, and her cheeks shone in the false light. They were damp. She had been crying recently.

Seeing the girl, the young ANBU's left hand would rise to his left eye, covering the foreign byakugan within for a second or two, before moving back down to it's place at his side.

"Hello, sorry for intruding." the boy would say, his mind racing to come up with something to say. Anything. The girl presented an obstacle, something he wasn't ready for, and certainly something he hadn't exactly foreseen.

"May I... ask your name?" His eyes scanned the room, noting the mass of books organized in somewhat haphazard stacks. The girl looked like Haru, almost scarily so. In the back of his mind, he knew who she was, but he wanted to confirm it.

The man who entered was one Aryll did not recognize. With a head of white hair, she might have mistook him for Haru if not for his red and green eye. She would have taken note upon the other one, but he quickly covered it, something that caused Aryll’s own eyes to narrow slightly, hidden by the dim light of the room, until he lowered his hand once more. Her own eyes would widen slightly at the white eye that stared back at him. She had a thousand questions, but she knew she couldn’t ask any. The man’s strange eyes, framed by his white hair, made her wonder if he really was a Hyuuga. He certainly wasn’t an elder, and she didn’t know of any permanent Hyuuga residents in Kirigakure aside from herself.

As she noticed the man’s gaze hanging over her face, she brushed her wet hair away from her eyes, taking no effort in covering up her curse mark, and sighed.
”It’s no trouble. The clan elders sent you?” Aryll inquired, her diplomatic nature, fitting of a Hyuuga heiress, showing prominently. She wore this facade until the man asked her for her name, at which point, her features relaxed ever so slightly. ”O-Oh.” She said, taken off guard. She’d thought for sure he was, and the byakugan was a dead giveaway. His mismatched eyes suddenly seemed to make sense to Aryll. He’d stolen a byakugan. ”I suppose you aren’t with the clan, then.” She concluded. No, she didn’t know that. Perhaps he’d been given one. It wasn’t unheard of for clansmen of this clan and many others to pass on their dojutsu to a friend when they fell, but… Yes, come to think of it, Haru had always taken great pains to cover one of his eyes when in the company of family. Could it be that this man possessed Haru’s eye?

”I am Aryll Hyuuga, head of the Hyuuga clan.” She said simply. She did a sort of curtsy in her chair, which looked impeccably awkward and would likely tip Altar off that she hadn’t spent much time getting used to her current state of being. This was new to her. ”...And you?” She looked at the man who was still standing in the doorway. Her years of etiquette training had taught her that when a woman stood, any men in the room were to stand as well, and when a woman sits, the men were to sit in turn. It was a mark of respect, but she supposed it would be rather frustrating to follow that code in her company.  That said, it felt strange to be talking to the stranger like this, so she waved one of her hands to the armchair near him, facing her. ”The chair won’t bite you, take a seat.” She said to Altar, allowing him to have a seat.

Assuming he complied, she would continue.
”It’s strange that you would call upon me without knowing my name. What brings you to my home?” She asked politely, her posture impeccable. It was a facade, of course, one she’d been taught to create at a very young age. Aryll, much like her brother, was very good at switching between absolutely casual and perfectly formal, hiding her true colors in the way only a Hyuuga could, trained as both a diplomat and a warrior.


(7454)

She was staring. He could feel it. He knew it. Her eyes bore through his. He couldn't tell if she was simply curious, or if the young hyuuga was reprimanding him for possessing what didn't rightfully belong to him. She tried to bow, or curtsy, or perform some action that... would typically require the use of the lower body. She looked awkward and uncomfortable in the gesture. While kind, it was unnecessary. She hadn't been in the chair for long.

The boy would take a seat when prompted, replying as he sat in the armchair she had motioned to. He had never been comfortable sitting, but it was better to be formal in this situation. Right? "I'm... my name is Altar Shinkou."

The boy would flex his fingers against the arms of the chair, the upholstery giving under his grip, a clear sign that he was at least a little on edge. "I... was friends with the owner of this house and the... previous, head of the Hyuuga clan, Haru Hyuuga. I suppose I came around because I hadn't seen him in a while. There were things we needed to talk about." the boy would say, fighting the urge to cover his byakugan once more. His. No, not his.

"I'm surprised to see you here, though. Haru often mentioned a sister. Would that happen to be you?"

The man’s discomfort with her stare told Aryll he was definitely not a Hyuuga. He was surprisingly self conscious, especially because the one that was examining him was a fifteen year old girl in a wheelchair who was currently damp as a wet rag. She watched him cross the room, sitting down in the armchair on command, almost like he was a puppet that she was controlling. It was an amusing sentiment, and for a moment, Aryll felt as if she had power over this man, despite the clear difference in rank and experience. When the man revealed his name to her, Aryll’s decorum all seemed to drop. Her shoulders dropped, her posture slackened, and her expression relaxed entirely. The name was familiar. As he tightly gripped the arms of the chair, Aryll examined the man before him. This had been one of Haru’s closest friends, Altar Shinkou. His protegee. She’d heard many things about this man, but never put a face to the name.

”Oh.” She replied to this, fascinated. It was clear that her decorum had been dropped. The white eye did not lie, this man must have been close indeed to Haru to receive his byakugan eye. His next words confirmed this, he was here for Haru. It was odd that he did not know what had become of him. It was the talk of the town, after all. The Second Mizukage, assaulting the First, as well as his own sister, losing his place as head of the clan and being imprisoned. It appeared he was one of the few not in the know about Haru’s fate. How unfortunate. Aryll would likely have to recount the story.

When Altar expressed his surprise at seeing her, Aryll couldn’t suppress the smirk that crossed her face. ”Well, this is my house.” She said, the sarcasm heavy in her voice. For a moment, she resembled her brother, the dry sarcasm that Haru often spoke showing through in Aryll’s own words. ”I am indeed his sister. He also spoke of you quite often, Altar. It’s nice to put a face to the name.” She told him, sighing. She wheeled her chair towards the wall, as if she were pacing ponderously, and looked upon a photo framed upon the wall. It was their first family photo. Grandma Kuni smiled, her grey hair up in a bun. In her arms was an infant girl with a full head of hair, silvery and unnatural looking. That was Aryll. Flanking her was Haru Hyuuga Senior, her grandfather, with one arm on the shoulder of a very young boy with brown hair and white eyes, who looked rather bored. The boy was Haru, junior, of course. To their left was a man with grey hair, a strong, muscular physique, and white eyes. He was rather short, but there was power in his build, and to one who didn’t know any better, he looked exactly like the Haru that would grow up to be head of the Hyuuga clan. Of course, it helped that his name was also Haru. It had been a long and confusing tradition that their particular family had upheld, naming the firstborn of each generation with the same name. It was rather irritating to Aryll, who mixed everyone up, including her great grandma Haru. At least she didn’t have to have such a uniform, boring given name.

She wasn’t actually sure where her name came from, come to think of it. It reminded her of the gulls and of the sea, but she hadn’t a clue what it meant. It definitely was not japanese, and sometimes she thought her father had stuttered and simply made the name up on the spot when the doctor asked him what her name was. Whatever her name was, it didn’t matter. She was getting off on a tangent of thought as she stared at the picture. It was a family from better times. A happier family, even in spite of the tragedy they had faced. Aryll smiled at it for a moment, her back to Altar.

”You won’t find Haru here. I’m surprised you haven’t heard of what’s happened.” She told him gravely, her tone conflicted. She wasn’t sure what to make of her brother’s imprisonment. The situation was understandably complex. ”He’s been jailed for assaulting myself and Xyxer.” she said, wistfully staring at the old family photo. The fact that she used his first name was one that caused many people to flinch, as if it were a forbidden name. Perhaps Altar would do the same. ”It’s a very long story, but the short of it is that I was not in this chair a few days ago. It was a massive misunderstanding that triggered the attack, but it was likely premeditated. My brother had no love for Xyxer.” She explained shortly. ”You’ll forgive me if I don’t want to go into detail. I understand that he is your friend, but it’s all rather fresh to me.” She said, sighing as she turned her chair back to him. ”I’m sorry.”


(8327)

The girl let out a simple reply, her formal etiquette and posture quickly slipping, her features filled with surprise. It seemed she knew him, at least somewhat, most likely from stories Haru would have told her.

The boy would smirk at the sarcasm in the girl's voice. The formal tone of their impromptu meeting had certainly not been to his liking. "Fair point. I suppose not actually meeting someone makes their existence fade from your memory, if all you have are stories and the occasional namedrop." the boy would say. It had been short, but the way she spoke, the sarcasm and dry humour, it reminded him of Haru. Well, it reminded him of Haru before he had taken the hat. After...

The girl made her way over to an adjacent wall and looked upwards, the young ANBU's eyes following her own as she gazed, somewhat longingly, towards what the boy could only assume to be an old family photo. There were two elders, an adult, and of course two young children. Everyone was happy. The boy would not move from the chair, but would commentate over to the girl. "It's a great picture, Aryll. A nice, happy family."

Family...
"You're a monster! Stay away from me! Get away!"
"You killed them, Altar. You killed them all. You don't deserve to speak the word family."

"I see you harbor more demons than just me." The cold, cynical voice of the passive aggressive Chomei wormed it's way into his head. The beast didn't enjoy its new rooming, that's for sure, and it made sure to try to make Altar's life a tad worse. While not as overtly antagonistic as Kalamity, Chomei was something he didn't have complete control over. And that thought scared him, just a little.

"Welcome to the family, bug boy. You can't be any worse then Kalamity."

The boy would shake his head free of the voices and thoughts that plagued him, returning his attention to the rather new, rather young Hyuuga clan head. "I'm sorry for what happened, Aryll. I know condolences don't do much, but you have mine."

The next words from the girl's mouth, the boy knew. Following that, however, was a complete shock that, for a few seconds, flipped his world upside down. Haru had... attacked his sister? That made no sense. He could see the man attacking Xyxer, but the sister he had sworn to protect, the sister he had loved more than anyone? And either Haru or Xyxer had put her in a wheelchair. This... the situation somehow got worse by the second, deepening for each word the young girl spoke. The young ANBU's face would quickly turn somber, trying to imagine how the event could have gone done, albeit with gaps everywhere.

"Of course, don't force yourself on my account. What you've said is plenty." the boy would say, running a hand across his mouth, dropping it again to speak. "I knew Haru hated Xyxer, but... god, Aryll, i'm sorry."

This had happened while he was away. Perhaps while he had been away investigating the nuances and fighting the giant insect now housed within himself. But still, he should have been there. He should have been there to help, or stop the fight, or something. Events in the village supercede those outside of it. If he'd had been there...

Was... was he the reason Aryll was in a wheelchair?

Altar’s smile shone through his previous discomfort. It seemed he didn’t have the same airs and graces that she and Haru were trained with, and likely he didn’t expect the initial welcome that he had received. Aryll far preferred to keep things casual anyways, but she’d had formalities drilled into her all through her life. It was a part of her. It had been a part of Haru, as well. She wondered how often, if at all, Altar had seen that side of Haru. It wasn’t her place to ask, nor was there any reason to, so she merely pushed these thoughts aside. His agreement with her sentiment would be answered with a short nod, as she didn’t really have anything to add on the subject.

As she looked upon the photo, Altar commented on it. What a happy family they were.
”I’m all that’s left.” She said vacantly. ”C’est La Vie, I suppose.” She sighed. It wasn’t worth moping over anymore. She’d spent the entire day, the entire week, doing just that, she wasn’t about to let it get to her still. She watched Altar’s face as he reacted to her words, and it seemed he knew of Haru’s fate, but not of the circumstances behind Aryll’s own… Predicament. She shrugged. That was life.

He, thankfully, didn’t make her recount it. Still, he seemed confused by her words, and so she clarified for him, so as not to damage her brother’s reputation further. He couldn’t say she never did him any favors. ”It was an accident. Haru didn’t mean to harm me. Still, his carelessness cost us both dearly.” She shrugged. That was the last peep Altar would get from her on the subject.

She crossed the room, retrieving a coat from the hanger.
”This has been nice, but I was actually just about to leave, so I hope you’ll forgive me.” She said, pulling the white coat over her upper body. She pondered retrieving a blanket, but that seemed too childish. No, she decided the coat was enough. As she opened the door, intending to show Altar his way out, she realized how annoyed she’d become with pushing herself around the city. Perhaps she could call in a favor. ”Actually, uh, would you mind giving me a lift? I need to get dinner, and my arms are tired as hell from this thing.” She said, gesturing towards the wheels of the chair. ”You’d be welcome to join me.” She added.


(8757)

When the girl commented that she was all that was left of the family in the photo, the boy would bite his tongue, not wanting to make the situation more depressing or dire than it needed to be, and he certainly didn't want to try to make the situation about him. Loss was comparable. Pain was not.

"I know that feeling all too well. You're not alone, Aryll." The boy settled for broadcasting the thought rather than saying the words out loud. This was her time to mourn and move on. Not his to interrupt.

As the girl moved to leave, the boy would rise from the chair, putting his hands in his pockets once more. "Of course. Thank you for having me, you're a gracious host." the young ANBU would say, sheepishly rubbing the back of his head and moving to leave.

And then he heard the girl's secondary remark, asking if he could help her along, casually inviting him to join her for the meal. "Oh, yeah, sure. I'd hate to intrude on your meal, though." the boy would say, barely finishing his sentence before his stomach let out a loud groan, the hunger pangs kicking in. The last time he had eaten was... just after leaving Void after the fight. Food sounded ridiculously good now. "Oooooor maybe I would. Food sounds good." the boy would say with his trademark smirk on his face, grabbing the wheelchair and gently rolling it out the door, stopping to close the door behind him before continuing on towards the more food-centric parts of Kirigakure.

The boy knew little about the food shops in the village, preferring to cook his own meals from raw supplies most of the time. He was raised to be self sufficient, and after he had left he had little choice but to be completely self reliant. Stemming from that was an intense love of cooking, so he rarely 'ate out' anywhere. Knowing that, the boy behind the wheel, so to speak, would slow his pace and look around more carefully.

"Is there anywhere you'd like to go in particular?" the boy would say, before drifting back into his thoughts. More recently, he'd been eating Nekoda's... attempts at cooking. She wasn't exactly bad at it, but she lacked experience. She tried to make up for it with tenacity, but tenacity couldn't cook meat to perfection. What it could do was cook it raw or burn it to a crisp.

"I can hear that, you know! I'm trying!"

She was puffing out her cheeks. He knew it.

Kalamity, on the complete opposite hand, took little interest in being self sufficient. Perhaps it was the demon's lackadaisical attitude, or his thorough belief that he was invulnerable so long as Altar lived, but he took no interest in typical human matters or needs. What he DID enjoy were games. And not only did he enjoy them, he was good at them. Kalamity could work through elaborate puzzles, solve riddles, and could probably almost beat Altar at chess.

"I was two moves away from a check. It wasn't my fault your bishop didn't cross my mind."

Once again, the boy would shake himself out of his thoughts, and assuming Aryll directed him, he would follow her directions. If she didn't, well, the boy would simply follow whatever he thought smelt the best in the square.

The irony of the situation would unfortunately be lost on Aryll, but were Haru present, and were he able to read thoughts (Actually, he could, come to think of it, but were he present to read Altar’s thoughts…) he might have grinned, for he and Altar had been in this exact situation before, when Altar was mourning the loss of Youta. Unfortunately the man wasn’t there to take pride in his student’s growth, nor was he in a position to take pride in anything at all, really. Regardless, it was good that Altar had learned when it was time to allow mourning and not to interrupt, even if he had something valid to say. As Altar rose, Aryll would hold the door dutifully, nodding politely at the man’s compliment.
”My brother always slacked on his etiquette, but I was not given such leniency.” She said gravely, smiling lightly. ”A true Hyuuga treats their guests with the utmost grace.” She said, in a smooth, almost singsong voice.

”Of course, then we sucker them into pushing us up a hill to get food, so it evens out.” She added, switching back from her facade of decorum. She was quite good at it, and the amount of discomfort that her formalities gave Altar was amusing, to say the least. His agreement to come along was welcome, as Aryll hadn’t had any company for quite some time, and she knew Altar was a family friend, so perhaps he’d be out for more than just her money or her influence. As Altar pushed her down the ramp, Aryll leaned back in the chair, relaxing, for the first time in, well, a long time. She didn’t get to bum rides very often.

Anyways, while Altar had little experience with the restaurants of Kirigakure, Aryll knew practically all of them. Perks of the diplomat-warrior lifestyle, she supposed. Stroking her chin in thought, she pointed to her right, directing Altar to turn and head up that street. She didn’t particularly know where they were going, but that was a good direction to start in, since the market was that way.
”What do you like? There’s this place Xyxer took me once, I don’t remember what it’s called, but they served something called “Mum’s Sp… spag…. Spaghetti? I think that’s how you say it. It was really weird, like noodles cooked in tomatoes, but it was interesting. They even let dogs eat there, it was crazy. There was this cute little cocker spaniel and a mutt eating there, it was adorable.” Aryll said, going on a weirdly specific tangent that seemed to be a near fourth wall break born of a reference born of another reference. Internal citation for the win.

”There’s plenty of good street vendors, though.” She said, thinking on the horribly unhealthy and terribly delicious food that street vendors had to offer. ”There’s a place with really good Takoyaki, or Yakisoba if you’re more into noodles. There’s Ramen everywhere, if that’s your thing, but I’m not particularly fond of it. Ooh, ooh, there’s also an Ikayaki place, if you like seafood. I suppose there’s also the bakeries, the ones that got moved from Tengakure, but street food sounds pretty good right now, I won’t lie.” Aryll mused. It was clear she was already pretty much completely comfortable with the situation, as she eagerly named off all the possible foods. It was also clear that Aryll was a major foodie, which was quite unbelievable given her slender physique.

”Anything jump out at you?” She asked expectantly. After all, she’d practically been talking to herself for a few minutes now, assuming Altar had let her ramble.

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