A/N: I'm going to try for at least one update a week, but things have been very busy for me lately, so thanks for your patience with this chapter~ I hope you guys enjoy it.
Review Responses:
What2do, and that is why you always review your answers before turning the test in, lol. Thanks and glad you enjoyed it!
Diana Raven, thanks! Glad you liked it!
fanficlove2014, those poor weapons, having to put up with all sorts of crap from their meisters. I'm glad you like Ayame. She definitely has a different way of looking at the world. As for Rei's answer…stress, I guess? XD I've done stupid things on exams before.
Guest, thanks, glad you liked it! Yep, and Maka even made it multiple-choice for them.
AmyNChan, Shelley likes to think this will somehow help her get over him (spoiler alert: it won't). Vayne's last name is actually his last name. It's a reference to the Sword of Damocles, which is a sword that hung on a string above the Damocles's head, so that he had to live each day never knowing when the sword would fall. Vayne is a pendulum, but it follows the same concept. Ayame is like Black Star with girly hormones and a fashion sense sometimes, but she does also have a little bit of Tsubaki's common sense, haha. The slingshotting is kind of what I was going for with the movement they do with the Cloak of Shadows (think 3D maneuver gear in Attack on Titan for reference). As far as Clark goes, well…you're not wrong, but that's about all I can say. Thanks for reviewing, and enjoy the chapter!
Disclaimer: I don't own Soul Eater.
CHAPTER TWENTY
The Primrose Path; Night of the Anniversary
"Ayame, come on!" Rei said, raising his fist and knocking on Ayame's door. "We're going to be late!"
From the other side of the wooden door, Rei heard a series of thumps and crashes, like drawers and closet doors banging open and shut. "Ugh—one second!" Ayame yelled from the other side. "This dress is—agh!"
"You mean you're not even dressed?" asked Rei, glancing at his watch. "Ayame, we're supposed to meet the others in ten minutes!"
"Shut up! I can't breathe—ugh, this dress was made for a boy! A tall, skinny boy!" He heard the sound of rustling fabric, followed by another frustrated shout from Ayame. "Forget it!" she yelled, and then he heard the familiar ringing sound of Ayame shifting into a weapon form, followed by the sound of metal hitting the floor. A moment later, Ayame's door opened a crack, just wide enough to allow her to stick an arm out and throw a tangle of blue fabric at him. He caught it, realizing that it was a dress, one that was just a little too small in the—er—chest area to fit Ayame.
"Just give that to Clark! It's his color!" Ayame said, slamming the door again.
Rei held the dress at arm's length, frowning at it. He raised his fist, prepared to knock again, but Ayame opened the door before he could, wearing a scowl on her face and the same gold dress that she had worn to the Anniversary Ball last year.
"You could have just worn that from the beginning," Rei said.
Ayame shot him a glare, sweeping past him and into the hallway.
"Come on, let's go!" she said, as she walked down the stairs. "Weren't you worried about being late?"
Rei scowled, tossing the other dress back into Ayame's room and following her down the stairs. There were just some days when he knew that he was never going to understand Ayame.
They met Morgan and Cassie on the street outside of Clark and Vayne's apartment, both girls wearing new dresses that, to Rei's eye, didn't look much different from the dresses they had worn last year. Morgan's was still dark purple, Cassie's some frilly thing in pale pink. The sight of them, however, did nothing to improve Ayame's mood. Rei stuffed his hands into the pockets of his suit jacket—the same suit jacket that he had worn to last year's Ball, because really, why would he need more than one suit?—and followed along behind her as she approached them.
"Ayame dear, what happened to that nice blue dress you bought?" asked Cassie, frowning at her.
Rei shook his head and made very emphatic 'stop' gestures from behind Ayame's back, but Cassie, as usual, didn't seem to notice.
"Long story," Ayame snapped at her, turning towards Morgan. "Are Clark and Vayne coming to this thing or what?"
"We just got here ourselves," Morgan said, tucking a strand of lightly curled dark hair behind her ear. "You're welcome to go look if you want."
"Yeah, gladly," said Ayame, stalking up to the door with fists clenched. Rei watched her, half of him concerned about the structural integrity of Vayne and Clark's apartment, and the other half of him just impressed that she could even do that much stalking in heels like that.
Thankfully for the apartment, Vayne and Clark had left the door unlocked. Ayame placed her hand on the doorknob and threw it open, taking a step into the apartment. "Alright, ladies! Stop doing your hair! It's time to go to the Ball!"
Vayne and Clark blinked at her from the middle of the room, where Vayne was helping Clark with his tie, holding it with both hands and adjusting the knot. Cassie looked over Ayame's shoulder with obvious interest. Morgan scowled, pushing her away. The color rose to Clark's face as the four of them crowded around the doorway, and he pulled his tie out of Vayne's hold, turning his back to his partner and fixing the rest of his suit by himself. Vayne rolled his eyes, hooking a thumb into the pocket of his vest.
"He's been preening all night," Vayne said in explanation. "He's all nervous about picking up Ophelia."
"I'm not!" said Clark, fumbling with the buttons of his suit jacket. "I'm just—just making sure I'm appropriately dressed! It isn't like—like this is my first date or anything!"
"Sure, buddy," said Vayne, placing a hand on Clark's shoulder with a long-suffering sigh. "Whatever you say."
"What time are you picking Ophelia up anyway?" Rei asked, glancing at the clock on the wall. "Because we're leaving now."
Clark's eyes widened, and he snapped them up towards the clock. "Oh no!" he said. "I'm running late! She's going to hate me!"
Vayne sighed. "She's not going to hate you, Clark. Just get going."
"I—right, flowers! Yes, I should get her flowers. Chocolates—we don't have any of those. Vayne—."
"Just go," said Vayne, placing a hand on Clark's back and shoving him out the door. Rei and the others quickly moved out of the way as Clark stumbled onto the stoop, looking back at Vayne with an uncertain look. "Trust me," Vayne said. "We'll see you there."
"I—yeah, okay!" said Clark. "See you there!"
Rei turned, watching as Clark jogged down the steps and up the street. Vayne watched as well, letting out another sigh as Clark disappeared from view. "And there he goes," he said. "Odds on him messing this up?"
"He couldn't mess it up if he tried," Ayame said. "Ophelia likes awkward."
"Good," said Vayne. "Because Clark's got a lot of it." He pulled the door closed behind him.
"I think it's kind of cute that he's picking her up," said Cassie, as Vayne locked up. "Ethan's just meeting me there."
"Yeah, well don't let Clark hear you say that," said Vayne, slipping his key into his pocket. He looked around at the others. "Shall we?"
They nodded, the five of them walking down the steps and making their way over to the DWMA.
Micah sat at a long table in the castle's great library, his cards fanned out in front of him facedown. He deliberated over them for a moment before selecting one, a smile on his face as he pushed it into place. The smile faded slightly as he remembered what today was—the anniversary of the DWMA's founding. The realization brought with it memories that he thought he had been able to repress—Shelley in a cream-colored dress back when they were students, still all arms and legs and big gold eyes, and Luna, turning heads even then, floating through the crowd of students as though she existed on a completely alternate plane.
The memories brought with them a pang of old pain, he couldn't think of Luna without thinking of darker times, and he quickly pushed the thoughts out of his mind, turning his attention back to the cards fanned in front of him.
"I'm not surprised to find you here wasting your time," said a voice from behind him. Mordred, Micah knew, without even having to look up. He extended his Soul Perception, realizing that Mordred wasn't alone. Their silent shadow stood next to him, dressed all in black as she usually was, her long blond hair forming a curtain around her face.
"Hello, Elaine," Micah said, not looking up.
Elaine didn't respond, but Micah didn't truly expect her to. Whatever madness that had taken her had already wiped out whatever was left of her personality long ago. He doubted sometimes that there was a shred of self-awareness still in there.
"I'm telling a fortune," he said, because Mordred was still looming over him, waiting for an answer. "Do you want to know what it says?"
"No," said Mordred, his tone laced with irritation. "What I want to know is why you weren't downstairs, supervising the training session like you were supposed to. You're the one that recruited that mongrel to our cause. You should take responsibility."
"Grayson will be fine," said Micah, waving off Mordred's concerns as he pushed another card away from the pile, setting it beside the first one. A third followed, and he sat back, pleased with himself. "Are you sure you don't want to know? It's a special occasion, after all."
"I'm not interested," said Mordred.
Micah ignored him, flipping the first card over. "In the past, for our friends at the DWMA—," he said, sweeping his hand in a dramatic flourish before looking down at the card. "Ooh, Judgment. That's a nice one. It signifies a milestone in the development of the soul, walking through fire and being reborn."
"I'm aware of what it signifies," Mordred said in a stiff tone. "But that is not what we're discussing. We're discussing your utter lack of responsi—."
"Shh," said Micah, holding up a hand. "I'm not done. In the present, for our friends at the DWMA…" He flipped the second card over. "The Lovers! How sweet. Harmonious relationships and happiness all around. That's fantastic!"
"Micah—," said Mordred, a warning in his tone.
Micah ignored him, his hand hovering over the third card. "And for the future—."
"Micah," said a sharp voice from the doorway, interrupting him.
Micah jumped to his feet with a gracious smile, offering the woman in the doorway a deep bow. Mordred followed suit, still scowling at him. The only one who didn't bow was Elaine, who turned to watch the door with her usual blank expression. The woman in the doorway was garbed all in black, and although she didn't appear old, at least not at first, there was a certain ancientness about her that was obvious even without seeing her Witch's Soul.
"My lady Morrigan," Micah said, as polite as a courtier. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"
"Flattery will get you nowhere," said the Morrigan, but the corner of her lip quirked up in a smile as she passed dark eyes over him. The smile vanished as soon as it had come, and her expression was stern again. "I seem to recall that you failed in your initial mission."
"With all due respect, my lady, I didn't fail," Micah said, still bowing. "There were extenuating circumstances…"
"Yes," the Morrigan said, interrupting him. "You'll find that I am quite aware of those…circumstances. Today is an important day for the DWMA, is it not?"
"It's the anniversary of their founding," said Micah. "The school will be hosting its annual ball."
"And we weren't invited," said the Morrigan, resting a pair of black nails against her cheek. "How rude of them. I think it's time for another attack. I'm going to give your original mission a second chance, Micah."
"I'm honored—," Micah began.
"Ah," the Morrigan said, interrupting him. "But I didn't say you would be the one to carry it out." She nodded at Elaine. "Do not fail me."
Elaine said nothing in reply, only turned and brushed past the Morrigan, leaving the room. The Morrigan watched them for a moment more before turning to follow her, the library doors swinging shut behind her.
Mordred straightened up, shooting Micah a glare. Micah smirked at him as he rose from his bow, slouching against the table behind him.
"This conversation isn't over," Mordred said, before turning to follow his mother out of the room.
"Whatever you say," said Micah, waiting until Mordred was gone. Once he was alone in the room, he turned back towards the cards on the table. It wasn't as much fun without Mordred around, but that didn't mean he didn't want to know.
"And for the DWMA's future…" he muttered to himself, flipping the third card over.
Micah stared at it for a few long moments. Then, he smiled, a thin, rueful smile that hovered just on the edge of madness. He turned, walking away from the cards on the table.
Death stared up at him from the tabletop, sightless eyes following him even as he left the room.
The DWMA had been transformed for the Anniversary Ball, the entrance hall glowing with bright lights and humming with music and conversation. As they walked up the steps, Cassie peeled away from the group, making her way towards Ethan, who was watching her by the doorway, dressed in a dark-colored suit. Morgan watched her go with a slight roll of her eyes, trailing behind Ayame as she led the way into the hall.
Rei followed along behind her as well, quietly miserable. For some people, the Anniversary Ball might have been the highlight of the year, but given the choice, Rei almost thought that he would rather fight in the tournament again. He was around people that he knew, around the same people that he trained with and fought with and took classes with, but he almost didn't recognize them in their suits and brightly colored gowns, didn't know how to act.
Ayame, on the other hand, had brightened up almost as soon as they stepped through the doors, a grin on her face. The lamplight shone against the gold fabric of her dress, a knee-length cocktail dress with the fabric bunched up around her waist, forming a flower pattern just over her right hip. She had taken her hair out of its usual side ponytail and had done the left side of it up in a stupidly elaborate braid that Rei couldn't imagine was comfortable. She wore a pair of heels high enough that he had no idea how she was walking in them, and had even managed to put make-up on somehow, a touch of gold over her eyes playing against the natural tan of her skin.
She should have looked ridiculous, should have looked so different from the Ayame he knew that he wouldn't want to look at her, but instead she looked so very herself, so very in her element that he found that he couldn't look away, that his eyes kept getting drawn towards her, sending heat to his face and an awkward flutter to his stomach. He clenched his fists tightly, stubbornly looking anywhere but at her and the light in her eyes as they drew to a stop in the center of the room.
"Well," Vayne said, "Here we are."
Rei forced himself to lift his eyes, forced himself to look around the room, to take note of where they were and of the people there, all while avoiding even looking at Ayame. The room was crowded with DWMA's elite, teachers and administrative staff and any meister or weapon actively working for the DWMA within a hundred-mile radius. He caught sight of his parents standing across the room, his dad looking as uncomfortable as he was, of Shinigami standing in a white suit on a raised platform, clearing his throat as he prepared to give a speech. Stein and Marie were already on the dance floor, Shelley sat at a table nearby, sipping at a glass of wine as she watched them. He saw Ethan and Cassie laughing with each other near the food table, saw Clark and Ophelia on the opposite side of the room, Ophelia dressed in white and smiling at something Clark said as Clark floundered, seeming unable to know what to do with his hands.
He saw dozens of people that he knew, all working in some way or another to learn, to keep the world safe, and he felt himself relaxing somewhat, the tight knot that he had been carrying around without knowing it loosening slightly. It was just the DWMA after all. What had he even been nervous for?
"Yeah," he said, looking back at Vayne.
"Well, I'm not hungry yet," said Vayne, giving the food table an appreciative look before turning towards Morgan. He held a hand out towards her with a joking smile, characteristically unselfconscious. "Shall we dance?"
Morgan turned her head to hide her smile, shrugging her shoulders in an overly exaggerated 'if I must' kind of way before placing her hand lightly in his. Vayne grinned, leading her off to the center of the room and Morgan followed, gathering up her skirt off the floor in that prim and proper way of hers as they found an empty spot.
Rei watched them for a while before looking at Ayame out of the corner of his eye. She was smiling, and his gaze dropped to her lips for an instant before he hastily pulled it back, looking away.
"You don't think…" he began, noticing that her eyes were fixed on Vayne and Morgan.
Ayame held up a hand, cutting him off before he could finish that sentence. "Too soon to say," she said, before walking off to the food table. "I'm starved. What do we have to eat?"
Rei settled back against the wall with a sigh a little white later, carrying a plate of food with him. He picked at it, watching the dancers. Ayame had matched him plate for plate before guzzling down a goblet of sparkling (non-alcoholic) cider, slamming it down onto the tabletop like she was at a tavern in a fantasy novel, and (loudly) declaring her intention to dance. She had peeled Clark away from Ophelia for a second, and Rei watched them as they twirled across the dance floor, trying to tell himself that the coiling feeling in his gut was not jealously.
Probably just something he ate, like a piece of bad shrimp.
"Had enough?" asked a voice from beside him.
Rei glanced over and realized that the corner he had chosen to hide in hadn't been as empty as he'd thought. His dad leaned back against the wall, one hand in the pocket of his suit jacket. He was watching the dancers and had a plate of food as well, although his was decidedly emptier.
"Just taking a break," Rei said, looking back at the dancers. His stomach churned again and he grimaced as he regarded his plate of food, holding it out to his father. "Salmon?"
Soul picked up a piece of fish with his fingers, popping it into his mouth. Rei watched Ayame and Clark for a moment more before handing the plate of food to his dad entirely, stuffing his hands into his pockets and leaning against the wall. The song that the musicians were playing built up to a crescendo, and Clark and Ayame spun together breathlessly at the end of the dance, coming apart as the last notes faded into the air. They faced each other, both out of breath and smiling, and Clark dropped into an overly dramatic bow at the same time as Ayame curtsied, the two of them managing to make it look rehearsed as they walked back into the ring of onlookers that surrounded the dancefloor.
Applause rang out from the crowd—the two of them had drawn an audience. Rei watched bitterly as Ophelia slid an arm around Clark's back and pulled him back onto the dancefloor, an appraising look in her eye as she studied him. Ayame made her way back out of the crowd towards him, out of breath, slightly disheveled, and grinning.
"Whew," she said, collapsing onto the wall beside him with her hands clasped behind her back. "That was kind of a workout."
"You looked like you had fun," Rei said, still not looking at her.
"I did," Ayame said. "But I started wondering where my idiot of a partner went." She peeled away from the wall and turned to face him, blinking big violet eyes up at him. He made the mistake of meeting her gaze and now he stared at her, suddenly finding that he couldn't look away.
"Dance with me?" she asked.
His mouth went dry, his mind conjuring up a thousand different ways to tell her that he couldn't dance, that there was just no way—
"A-Ayame—," he said, but was cut off as a hand landed on his shoulder, pushing him firmly towards Ayame. His eyes widened in betrayal, and he looked over his shoulder at his father.
Soul was grinning.
"This is my corner," he said. "Go on. Shoo."
"Thanks, Mr. E," said Ayame, with a nod, taking his wrists in her hands as he tried to pull away. He wanted to break free, but to free himself, he would have to look at her. So instead he gulped, his heart pounding out an increasingly panicked rhythm as Ayame dragged him onto the dance floor.
Soul leaned back against the wall as Rei left, still holding Rei's discarded plate of food. He shook his head, a smile on his face as he popped another piece of salmon into his mouth, watching as Ayame dragged Rei to a stop, as Rei blinked like a deer in the headlights, his hands flailing until Ayame caught one and placed it firmly on her waist. He relaxed against the wall, picking up another piece of food.
He almost felt sorry for Rei. Almost.
"Oh, Soul…" called Maka, from somewhere off to his left.
Crap, he thought, dropping the piece of food he had been eating.
Ophelia giggled breathlessly as the two of them stumbled off the dance floor, leaning on his arm to support herself as she tried to peel off her broken shoe. The heel had snapped mid-turn, and Clark had had to catch her as she fell, holding her up with both hands as they tried to maneuver their way off the floor without running into any of the other dancers.
"I guess this is a sign," Ophelia said, smiling at him as she stepped out of her other shoe, suddenly losing a few inches of height. She picked up both shoes by the straps, dangling them between two fingers and apparently heedless of her bare feet as she straightened up again. "I'm sorry I'm not much of a dancer."
Clark shook his head. "You were doing fine," he said, not sure what she was talking about. "You were great actually. You, uh—." He drew to a stop and glanced at her out of the corner of his eye, realizing that he was rambling again.
Thankfully, Ophelia didn't seem to notice. "Not as good as you," she said, giving him a playful smile. "I didn't know you could dance like that, iinchou."
Clark frowned, his annoyance at the nickname momentarily cutting through his embarrassment. "Okay, you can stop with the 'iinchou' thing," he said.
"Why?" asked Ophelia, smiling in a way that told him she knew exactly how much he hated that nickname. "I like it. It suits you, iinchou."
"If you keep doing that," Clark warned her, the corner of his lip quirking up in a matching smile. "I'm going to call you 'stage manager' for the rest of the night."
"Fine by me," said Ophelia, grinning at him. "The rest of the night isn't going to be very long, I'm afraid. It's been a lot of fun, but I feel like these are my cue to make a graceful exit." She held her shoes up for emphasis, the heel dangling off of one of them. Clark glanced at the exit, listening to the sounds of the party still going on around them. He didn't want her to leave, he realized. He didn't want this night to end.
The words left his mouth before he could think about them, before he could even be properly embarrassed. "I'll walk with you."
Ophelia didn't insult him, didn't make a joke, didn't brush him off and turn to run away the same way some of the other girls in the class might have. Instead she just smiled and offered him her arm, the two of them leaving the party together. It wasn't until he had stepped through the doors and was helping Ophelia negotiate the DWMA's steps barefoot that he realized he had no idea what Cassie was doing, that he hadn't even turned to look for her as he left the room.
"Are you sure you're alright?" Clark asked, as they walked slowly down the street away from the school. "We could call a cab—."
"I'm fine," said Ophelia with a smile, waving off his concern. "It's just a little bit of dirt. I'm a meister. I'll live."
"I—I guess," said Clark, falling silent. He felt some of the awkwardness that had been his constant companion all evening return. He wanted to do something for her, but he didn't know what, and his hands closed and unclosed uselessly at his side. Ophelia seemed to take pity on him, because she smiled at him, continuing to speak.
"My parents used to do Shakespeare in the park," she said. "You want to talk about dirt, imagine me and Yorick playing in the mud all showing because it was raining that day."
"You and Yorick?" Clark asked, glancing at her. Up until now, she hadn't mentioned her partner. He had avoided asking, mostly because he didn't know what he was going to say. He realized that part of the reason he had never asked Ophelia out was the same reason why he didn't bother with Ayame—he'd assumed things about her relationship with her partner that were, in Ophelia's case anyway, probably not true.
At least he assumed so, because Yorick had been at the party and despite glowering at him once or twice, hadn't actively tried to beat him up.
Ophelia smiled as if she knew the path his thoughts were taking, glancing at him. "We grew up together," she said. "Our parents were part of the same performance group. We were theater people. His mom did the costumes. My dad designed the sets. My mom got the big roles. She's a great actress. We were inseparable as kids, so it didn't really surprise anyone that we both ended up at the DWMA together."
"But you're not…" Clark began.
Ophelia laughed, shaking her head. "He's like a big brother."
Something inside Clark loosened up in relief. "Oh," he said, his voice soft.
Ophelia didn't miss his sudden change in expression. "Why?" she asked, looking at him from beneath thick lashes with a look that made his heart stop. "Were you worried?"
Clark froze. "Um—m-maybe," he said.
She tossed her hair out of her face with a shake of her head, still smiling as she walked forward, almost leaving him behind. He hurried to catch up with her. "You're interesting, Clark," she said. "One minute, you're asking out every girl in the class without an ounce of shame, the next you're all tongue-tied. Why's that?"
"I—I don't know," said Clark, feeling the heat rise to his face. His tie suddenly felt uncomfortably tight. Ophelia went on distractedly, as if she hadn't noticed that he had spoken at all.
"It's like…you're putting on a performance," she said. "Like the person that tries to talk to all those girls isn't you, it's…a character you're playing. Believe me, I grew up around actors. I would know. I think the only times I've seen you truly relaxed tonight where when you were dancing with Ayame and when you snapped at me for calling you iinchou." She looked up at him, concern in her eyes as she looked over his face. "Why?"
Clark frowned, saying nothing. His eyes slid away from her, focusing on the road ahead. He didn't know what to say. He couldn't deny what she was saying, but that didn't mean that he had an answer for her either. The answer drifted somewhere at the back of his mind, but he ignored it, knowing that it if he thought of it for too long, it would start to hurt. Instead he said, "Does it matter?"
"Well…" Ophelia said, pausing to consider it for a moment. "Let's just say I like this Clark better."
She stopped and he followed suit, turning to face her. They had reached an intersection, one that he was familiar with. His and Vayne's apartment was a couple of blocks to the right, hers was further up the road. A streetlight illuminated the two of them, lamplight playing with the burnished gold of her hair and the white fabric of her dress. The setting brought to mind another street, another parting, and Clark felt something tighten in his chest.
She took a step back and he realized that she meant to go. "I'll walk you home," he said, the words coming out in a rush, desperately, as if he could stop her from leaving by saying them, as if he could stop himself from remembering that other parting, that other time so long ago.
Ophelia shook her head, and as if she realized that he wasn't truly seeing her, took a step so that she was just out of reach. "It's not far," she said. "I'll be alright."
And then, surprising him, she stepped forward, her lips brushing against his cheek. "I had a good time, iinchou," she said, her eyes meeting his, hovering in front of him, impossibly close. "We should do this again."
Before he could respond, before he could even collect his wits enough to move, she was walking away, tossing him a smile over her shoulder before walking off into the distance, her shoes still slung in one hand. His cheek burned where she had kissed him. He raised his hand to his face, tracing the outline of her lips.
Clark, Ophelia decided, was an interesting person, but not nearly as bad as Rhythm or the other girls made him out to be. All things considered, she thought she might keep him. The thought made her giggle, and she raised her hand up to her face, walking down the sidewalk with her shoes in hand and a lightness in her step.
Yes, she thought, he was definitely interesting.
She wondered when he would invite her out again, or if she would have to be the one to do it.
Something moved out of the corner of her eye, giving her pause. Ophelia drew to a stop on the street, glancing at the shadows around her. Her eyes narrowed as a figure slid down from a rooftop ahead of her, dropping onto the sidewalk, and she quickly put all thoughts of Clark and the ball from her mind, spreading her legs and sinking into a stance.
The figure was dressed all in black, golden hair spilling from her head and shining in the moonlight. She wore a mask over her face, half in white and half in black. Ophelia didn't have Soul Perception, but she didn't need it to know that this woman was dangerous. She exuded danger, the same way a predator might, or a force of nature.
Her eyes darted to the left and right, counting out avenues of escape. Without Yorick, she didn't much like her chances, but that didn't mean she planned on going out without a fight. The woman across from her extended her hand, electricity crackling down her arm and stopping at her fingertips.
Ophelia slowly opened her hand, her shoes clattering to the ground.
The wineglass fell to the ground and shattered, drawing a stop to the conversation at the anniversary ball and forming a steady pool of red that spread over the floor. People gasped, stepping away from it, and Soul quickly grabbed Maka's elbow, pushing her gently but firmly away from the spill.
"What's wrong?" he asked, his voice low as he looked into her eyes. Maka shivered beneath his touch, something cold and wrong settling into the pit of her stomach. She turned towards him, leaning into him and Soul's eyes widened in alarm. "Oi," he said, placing his hand on her shoulder and shaking lightly. "Maka…"
"Something's wrong," Maka said.
"What—?" Soul began.
Maka shook her head, coming back to her senses. She straightened up, her eyes narrowing as she looked over at the party. Aside from the group of startled people around her, most of whom were watching her with some concern, the ball went on as usual. Students laughed, people danced, the music played, and it was all wrong.
Her eyes flitted over the students, counting them even though she knew it was hopeless. She wouldn't miss one or two, not in a crowd of so many. She saw Rei and Ayame, Vayne and Morgan, Cassie and her boyfriend from Class Crescent Moon. All of the students from her class, one after another. She couldn't find Clark, and she couldn't find Ophelia.
She stretched out her Soul Perception again, looking beyond this, beyond the group of people gathered around her, beyond all their brightly lit souls and the energy coming off of them in waves, expanding her search radius to take in the whole city. Her expression grew grim, her hands clenching into fists at her side as she grit her teeth.
"Maka?" Soul asked again. He took a step away from her, waiting.
"Transform," she said, extending out a hand towards him.