Phoenix Island

Catalina stood in the back of the crowd, flexing her fingers, and before she knew it her pale blue gloves were fraying. She saw the shorter woman with solid color eyes punch a hole in the wall, and shivered. Not only did the pale redhead see the damage, but she heard the metal creaking as it buckled. Soon after a golden man stepped forward, and said something she had a hard time understanding. Vaughn now waited impatiently for the next person, and it looked like she would have to be that person. She didn't know how to show her powers though, nor did she understand what at least one of them meant. Her bare toes curled up and a twitch started in one of her long muscled legs. The one thing she knew she could show became the one thing she wanted to do.

Placing her folder perfectly squared where the floor met the wall and well out of the way of other people's feet; for even if she didn't know why she couldn't stand for it to get messy, she finally pulled away and stepped forward. "I'll be next." On her way up, she peeled off her frayed gloves and tucked the remnants in her darker blue sash belt. Slowly it was revealed she had no fingernails or even the nail beds to show she ever had any, just strange vertical cuts on the tip of each thick finger including her thumbs. She pushed her headband back and flexed those fingers again, exposing copper-colored claws sticking out from each of those cuts or pockets really, as she poised to run.

Ignoring any comments, she retracted her claws and ran full tilt from one end of the room to the other, since she was supposedly faster going in a straight line. She felt energy and power in every stride, and whooped occasionally to release it. Hair and clothing fluttered in her wake, knocking the hat off a boy. The hat drifted in her path, but almost before she realized there was an obstacle, she was over it. "Maybe that's what cat-like reflexes mean," she thought out loud. Without knowledge of what a cat actually was, she could not understand what was like a cat.

She thought she got another hint when she stopped right in front of Vaughn without ever appearing to slow down. Her porcelain pale skin barely flushed from the exertion, but her breathing was a bit faster. After a few moments to get her breath back, her golden eyes met his completely normal ones and she stated carefully, "My file also says I can hear sounds other people can't and see perfectly on a dark, cloudy night, but I don't know how to show those things." When he made no comment, she retrieved her file, and returned to the back of the crowd.

At the farthest southern point in the knot of recruits, Michael Arborly was doing his best impersonation of a potted plant, or some other innocuous piece of scenery. He had just paid witness to the best that the group had managed to scare up so far - a psychic, apparently some sort of red-haired fortune teller type, a girl with strange eyes who caused severe structural damage to an inoffensive piece of wall, a girl with cat's eyes and (if she was to be trusted) cat's reflexes, a man with the power to control wind, and a girl who could make swords out of her own blood. A disturbing talent as far as Arborly could tell, but presumably useful in multiple situations - not the least of which being in a fight.

The girl with the blood-swords was making a bee-line for the group against the back wall of the gymnasium, near where Arborly stood. Keeping his mouth shut - as was his nature - the explorer began to search the myriad pouches on his clothing, one by one, until he came up with an old first-aid kit; one of multiple useful things he had found on the combat harness that he habitually wore fastened over his leather coat. From the pouch he produced a roll of gauze bandages, several cotton pads in sterile pouches, and a utility knife to cut the bandages into manageable strips. As he returned the pouch to his combat harness, he wordlessly stepped away from the ragged group of men and women that had surrounded him, his feet gliding across the floor of the gym - an act that was seemingly impossible, given his rugged, utilitarian footwear.

One of Arborly's hands moved up from his side, and siezed Kasna's forearm with a firm grip. The other hand set about the business of dressing the wounds on the back of the girl's palms, first setting down the cotton pad, then adding a somewhat tight wrap of gauze bandage, which he secured with what looked like office staples. His movements, although not graceful or well-practiced, were quick and efficient, and soon he had finished his business. Moving ghost-like across the floor, Arborly began to return to his place against the wall.

He was about halfway when Vaughn noticed him beating his retreat. "Hey you! Cassanova!" The commanding officer shouted in his rough voice, obiously directing his shouts towards Arborly. The explorer stopped for a moment, turning his head to the side and in the general direction of the officer - although he wasn't looking directly at him. "Yeah, I'm talking to you," the soldier barked.

Arborly turned, still saying nothing.

"Strong silent type, eh?" Vaughn growled, evoking a few sparse, airless laughs from the people against the far wall of the gym. Arborly shrugged. Vaughn scowled and generally looked cross, waving Arborly to the front of the room. A moment of panic crossed Michael's mind - how was he supposed to prove himself? He couldn't really do anything. He couldn't dent a wall or make a deadly weapon out of his own blood. He couldn't summon the wind to do his bidding, or show the future in a few words. He could barely load and fire a gun. So what was he going to do?

Arborly stepped in front of Vaughn, who - despite Arborly's large frame and fair height - seemed to tower over him as a skyscraper would look down on the streets below. "So what do you do?" Vaughn asked, in a half-mocking fashion. Arborly, despite his evident reservations, spoke his next words calmly, in his usual slow, careful fashion - as though he was looking for the word even as he said it: "I'll need you to turn off the lights and step into the crowd."

Vaughn sneered. "And what are you going to do?" He said, laughing. "Go off and piss yourself in a corner?"

Arborly's gaze was defiant. "You're going to hide. I'm going to find you."

Vaughn stared, his sneer frozen on his face. "Fine," he finally grunted, "I'll bite." Arborly nodded and closed his eyes as Vaughn turned out the lights, then made himself scarce, fading into the crowd effortlessly.

Arborly opened his eyes. The world was tinted in deep shades of black, the gray shapes of people visible amongst the ebon shroud of darkness. The explorer stepped out into the crowd of new recruits, boring a hole straight through them, until he caught sight of a camouflage jumpsuit and Vaughn's confident face. One hand reached out and settled itself on Vaughn's shoulder.

"Found you," Michael said. Vaughn's face didn't change expressions as he nodded, dismissed Michael, and went to turn on the lights. This time, Arborly returned to his portion of the group unimpeded.

Maria watched as one by one the others showed their talents, a myriad of freakish powers that left the watching crowd whispering and shuffling to see more. They didn’t bother concealing their interest - of their disgust - at times there was even a smattering of applause, though it was obvious whose powers stood out from the rest. The girl whose blood turned into weapons, the guy who could teleport, the glowing BFG, the list could go on. Those whose powers were just a little more unique than the rest. After the ‘Cassanova’ (at said remark Maria couldn’t help an amused smile creep onto her face), played blind mans bluff with Vaughn, she watched from her place against the wall as the golden boy from before approached the blood girl. Maria raised an eyebrow at his advance, his eyes alight with a glint that even in her current blank state she knew meant a little more than friendly advance. In the background a few of the more hesitant people in the crowd had taken to the stage, their talents impressive enough but nothing like the first handful. Clearly balls and mutation powers came hand in hand.

Vaughn who had been watching the procession with an almost comic look of boredom, yawning regularly and his eyes glazed and dull. Though they weren’t quite through the rest of the number he suddenly burst into action, striding to the front and sending the young woman standing there flying back into the crowd ”That’s enough of that bullshit! You get the picture I’m sure.” Glaring at the crowd for an uncomfortably long moment, seemingly pondering what to shout about yet, he eventually growled ”I want everyone to pair up, do some practise, work out the kinks. I’m sure you’re all just be best pals.” With that he let loose a final snort of disgust and sloped off into the corner of the room where a chair and a copy of GUNS magazine rested. Maria grinned. She knew it.

She looked round as people began pairing off, some more comfortably than others, her eyes quickly scanning the faces. In a slow, thoughtful movement she removed her sunglasses with one hand and ran the other through her blonde pixie crop. There was no point hiding it, if she was going to have to actually interact with somebody than they’d have to get over her eyes. Instantly she felt slightly more uncomfortable, anxious to get back under the slightly darker and infinitely safer protection of her shades, but outwardly showed no sign of hesitation. Chin held high she waited against the wall, refusing to make the first move, but her face wiped off it’s usual signs of aggression. Eyes downcast she waited for everybody to pair off first, for the remaining guy or girl who’d drawn the short straw, uncomfortably aware that she was hardly prime partner material. Not that she cared or anything, no, of course not. She kicked the back of her pumps against the wall behind her, accidentally gouging another hole in the metal. Of course not.

People begun shuffling about almost instantly. If it wasn't for the tragedy of their situation, Isaac would find the fact that all the pretty girls got snapped up like kippers by a bear. What the hell [/i]is a bear[/i]? The thought disturbed him a little, but he pushed it aside. The tall golden-skinned guy made a bee-line straight for one of the girls. Isaac already had an instant dislike for the guy. It was irrational, but something about the guy just drove up his hackles. Shit, he might even start hissing. The brief chuckle - Was that me? - startled him. He hadn't laughed much since he had come around in the medical bay. A teenage girl who had been approaching him - She had Telekinesis... - stopped when he started laughing. A muscular young guy swept over almost instantly. This time Isaac didn't laugh.

He turned around, scanning the rest of the crowd. His eyes swept over a short, stocky guy with a broad grin plastered over his face. Isaac didn't remember seeing him, but the guy reminded him of a boiled sweet. Sickly sweet and ugly. The thought didn't fill him with much joy. The guy strode over with a clammy - Isaac just assumed this, however - hand outstretched and -

Isaac slipped out of the crowd with minimal fuss, re-appearing at the edge of the group with the tiniest of breezes ruffling his clothing. He turned around before the confused looking man could locate him again. At which point he realised he was about a foot away from the petite blonde who had gone first. Startled, Isaac took a few quick steps backwards, barely able to cover his fluster. Shit. Now I have to speak to her. He had been hoping to avoid pairing up entirely.

"Hi."

The lack of enthusiasm in his voice was startling evident even to himself. A pang of guilt struck him unexpectedly, and he relaxed a little. Take two.

"Hiya," - Still a little forced, but at least amicable - "My name is Isaac... and I'd appreciate it if we could just act like we are getting along so that prick doesn't bother me - us - I suppose."

He sure hoped he was right about the girl being as displeased with this place as himself. If not, he was going to have to do some explaining to Vaughn when she spilled her guts about his foul mouth. As an instinctive after-thought, Isaac stretched out a hand.

"Try not to break it."

He hoped the joke didn't give her ideas.

After the girl who made weapons from her own blood demonstrated said power, Catalina felt like she couldn't breathe. Her claws came out again as she tightly wrapped her arms around herself, squeezed her eyes shut, and faced the wall. Blood! Why did it have to be blood? She shuddered and grimaced when an acidic taste burned the back of her throat. She didn't notice much of anything after that, but she jumped when Vaughn shouted again. The old man was always shouting, and it was not pleasant to her sensitive ears. She shook her head and rubbed her ears, sans claws. The foul taste faded for the moment, but still she stared at the red puddle.

She resumed flexing her fingers until a slightly taller man snuck behind her and said in a very strange voice, "Hey, sweets." Immediately, she spun around, with claws exposed, and hissed at him. The guy wisely backed up, and she saw he had blue scales on his face and hands. "Whoa, sweets! The boss..." He flicked his thumb in Vaughn's direction, and continued, "The boss says we're supposed to pair up to practise."

"Don't call me that! If you continue, I want nothing to do with you." To confirm her point, she rammed her shoulder into his chest to push him out of her way and marched down to a pale and unusually tall guy who seemed to be avoiding people. Well she didn't feel like being around people right now either, especially people who called her "sweets." She growled under her breath as the name passed through her mind.

When she got closer to the abnormally tall man, she noticed he looked unkempt and her hands started twitching again. She wrinkled her nose and looked back over her shoulder at the blue-scaled guy, but the pink-haired girl caught him before she could change her mind. Both of them were smirking at her, which didn't improve her temper. Turning back around, she sighed to calm down. Her fingers didn't stop twitching though. "Hi, mister, I'm Catalina. And you are...?" She didn't reach out to shake his hand like some people would, but she was trying to be pleasant.

For a while, Arborly stood off to the side of the group, undisturbed. As always, people gave the unimpressive tracker a semi-wide berth; not because of any specific deformity or sense of foreboding, but rather that he was just the kind of thing that was ignored and given space - like any piece of furniture. He stood in silence, observing the dregs of the group go up and strut their stuff, remaining stoic and unmoved by the displays.

Then Vaughn gave the order for people to group off and mingle. Arborly, by nature, avoided this command like the plague. No-one approached him, and he remained in his spot, not speaking and barely moving. He seemed to blend in with the wall behind him, in fact, literally becoming a part of the scenery instead of looking like one. His sharp eyes observed the crowd for a while, before finally losing interest. The explorer slowly leaned back against the wall, until eventually he fell into a doze. He stayed like that for a while, just resting his eyes and thinking, when a voice split into his conscience.

Arborly looked up. A girl with red-blonde hair stood before him. Something about her seemed familiar, but the explorer couldn't quite place where he'd seen her before. Arborly gave the girl a flat look, slowly coming to terms with the fact that yes, indeed, she was talking to him. More specifically, she expected a response. Unfortunately, she wasn't going to get much.

Michael pushed off the wall slowly, his back popping. "Arborly." He grunted simply, also not extending his hand. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he finally acknowledged that she was the girl that came directly after the golden giant. The one that could run really quickly. He wasn't realy impressed.

"Arborly, nice to meet you." She tucked her file under her arm and clasped her hands together to hide the twitching. "The boss says we're supposed to practise our powers, but I already said I don't know a way to do that. If there was something we could search for, it would be different. These papers here say I can do a lot of things, but not many of them work well in this place." She unclasped her hands, took a step to the side, and spread one of her long arms out in an expansive gesture over the gym. Quickly, she pulled back to face Arborly again and clasp her hands. "All I could think of was running, which was nice for a while, but I don't want to run right now."

Realising she started rambling, she turned away and looked around at the other pairs. The blue-scaled guy was showing the pink haired girl something with bubbles, and she was watching him like he was the only important thing in the world. Catalina gagged at the disgusting display. Unfortunately, most of the others were doing the same thing, except a couple. A dark-skinned guy was talking to the short girl with weird eyes, and they were both making faces at the golden man. Cat chuckled, so she wasn't the only one, but the girl he was talking to wasn't all starry-eyed over him. It was the girl who made weapons with her blood! Catalina shuddered. She didn't want to think of that still-present deep red puddle.

Again she wrapped her arms around herself, and looked at the wall. A nice flat metal wall was much better than a messy, smelly, and incredibly unpleasant puddle. If her hair wasn't red, she might dislike the color. Red, gold, copper, and white were her colors. She was born with very bright colors, but wore darker colors. Turning back to Arborly, she noted his colors were black, grey, and pasty white. All were very bland colors, which makes perfect sense if he doesn't want people to notice him. She already figured that out, but his height was notable. She thought she was tall, but he was half a foot even taller.

She turned away again, realising she was staring, but she was quite certain he was not the most important thing in the world. She didn't think highly of him. He was dirty, and she didn't like dirty. "So what do you do, Arborly?"

In response to Catalina's first greeting, Arborly nodded again. He still wasn't relishing the thought of the team exercises; the prospect of teamwork in itself didn't appeal to him, and the fact that it was expected that he speak to his team-mates made it that much worse. In the past, Arborly had found speaking with others an almost painful prospect, and the awkwardness hadn't lessened over time.

The explorer followed Cat's line of sight over to the other groups. A few caught his eyes right off; namely the people who had led the demonstration. The wind-guy and the wall-puncher were off in one corner, looking awkward and not altogether sociable. Arborly felt a mild amount of sympathy for them; although they were making an effort to speak with eachother, they seemed just as antisocial as the explorer himself. In another corner, the blood-girl whose hands he'd bandaged was being hit upon by what appeared to be a red-haired golem of a man with uniformly yellow-tan skin (Arborly refused to call it "golden"). The explorer cringed mildly, watching the exchange drag on for what seemed like hours.

Cat's next question caught Arborly off guard; mostly because he was lost in his examination of the crowd. The explorer made a few lumbering steps as he turned back towards Catalina, then tilted his head slowly to one side as he pieced a sentence together in his head. "I see things," Arborly said finally, "in the dark. And I can find my way very well."

"Then, I guess neither of us can really practise anything, at least until we leave this room, which I really want to do. I want to know where we're supposed to sleep and eat and everything. I know I don't want to go back to that cold room where I woke up." and I really want to get away from the blood. Horrible, terrible blood. She tossed her head from side to side, and clutched her middle. Something very unpleasant was trying to push its way out of her stomach through her mouth, and that acidic taste was back.

Catalina tried to focus on something else, because she didn't want another smelly puddle on the floor. She had a sense that whatever this unpleasant thing was it would stink. Red, gold, white, copper, blue, green, purple, yellow, orange. Each word flashed its meaning before her eyes, unusually bright. She blinked a few times until all the colors settled back to their normal intensity. It appeared to work, but she didn't trust herself to speak yet.

Instead she leaned against the wall behind her and closed her eyes for a moment. Other conversation rolled over her like water, much calmer than the roiling inside her. She let it surround her in a bubble, and hopefully settle her stomach. She licked her lips, suddenly feeling like she needed water. She opened her eyes and glanced around the room again. Vaughn appeared to think something in his magazine was funny. She shook her head, more gently than last time.

Her golden eyes fell on the girl, whose mess troubled her so much. Something didn't look right about her. She looked a little shaky on her feet and put a hand against her forehead. The girl pulled something from her pocket and made a face while swallowing it, but Cat wasn't sure she looked right afterwards either. Cat looked back to Arborly, and then the girl. He was trying to avoid people before she got there, so he most likely wouldn't mind if she left to do something about that girl.

Why should she do something about the girl though? That girl made a mess that she was still fighting the affects of, and to get to her, Cat would have to go past that mess again. "I hate that blood. I can't wait to get away from it. I want to get out of this room with the blood. I want a nice clean room without it." She was muttering mostly to herself and started pacing like a caged animal. "I also want to know what's going on with that girl. But the blood, I hate the blood."

Arborly watched Cat warily. His booted feet - again, with unnerving silence - began to move slowly across the floor, keeping his back against the wall, propelling him away from the girl. If she needed anything at this present moment, it may have been a shrink.

Eventually, the explorer found himself surrounded by the crowd, hidden within its womb by the mass of moving bodies that shifted back and forth like a single, symbiotic beast. Men and women alike demonstrated their powers - invisibility, levitation, Michael even swore he saw a girl breathing fire - and through it all, the quiet adventurer wove his path, not once coming in contact with a single other person. Eventually, he had crossed all the way to the far side of the gym, looking down at the manila folder he had kept in his hands through the whole experience. (The thought didn't occur to Arborly, but he had been holding that folder when he had sought out Vaughn earlier in the display, as well.)

Arborly sat and leafed through it slowly, examining his psychic evaluation first - that crisp, white piece of stationery with the evaluator's signature at the bottom. He looked it over, bit by bit, shrugging at every new piece of information. These tidbits didn't really interest him one way or another, so eventually he discarded the folder and leaned his face forward against the haunches of his legs, not really thinking about anything, until he eventually fell into a doze.

Arborly had been dozing, the files spread out in his lap, when William's shout went up from the crowd. Although there had been a lot of shouting going on, none of them carried the same urgency as this one, and the room went, for the most part, into a stunned silence. The explorer's hand shifted to his first aid pouch as he stood and moved, again with unnerving silence and accuracy, through the crowd to the source of the shouting. The dirty-looking tunnel rat gave William a gentle shove to the side, holding up his medical pouch as he looked at the fainted form of Kasna.

'This could be a problem,' Michael thought, slowly kneeling down in front of Kasna and opening his pouch. The bandages he had applied previously were soaked through, the padding rendered useless but the Ace bandages holding them in place still effective enough to be used. Although most modern first aid techniques said that it was bad for the person performing first aid to remove dressings soaked through with blood, Arborly was raised on the school of thought that any garment soaked through with anything wouldn't be able to absorb and would therefore be useless. Pulling two more pads from the kit - which, Michael noted with slight dismay, seemed to contain less and less - the explorer gestured for William to come over. In his slow, plodding voice, Arborly said:

"Apply pressure to her forearms... Not enough to stop bloodflow entirely, but enough to... Slow it down." Waiting patiently, the explorer readied the gauze pads, prepared to work quickly to prevent any more blood loss. As a precaution, he removed and prepped two more pads, just in case the bleeding was worse than it looked. This was unlikely, and Arborly hoped it wouldn't be the case, but a tiny little thought wormed up through his subconscious at that moment. A voice; strong and commanding, carrying a light accent that the explorer couldn't pin down, said "Rule One: Better Safe than Sorry." He didn't know who this voice belonged to, or where it came from, but it made sense, so Arborly followed this simple creed.

What now then, indeed? Arborly waited a moment as William seized hold of Kasna's forearm. As he watched the bloodflow slow slightly, the explorer smiled. It wasn't much progress, but still a great deal better than the previous torrent of blood flowing out of her hands, so he would roll with it. If only he had...

Congealant.

The word wormed up from his subconscious in the same way as the previous statement had. Where the hell was this voice coming from? Who did it belong to? Something was strange about it, indeed, but for now Michael just went with it. "Keep up the pressure." Arborly said in his slow manner, moving over to his first aid bag. He briefly picked through the contents, and found that (unsurprisingly) none of this mysterious "coagulant" junk was in there. So he returned to Kasna and William, and then quickly undid the Ace bandages holding the sodden padding onto her left hand. Moving quickly, Arborly wringed out the bandage as quickly as he could, then swapped out the gauze pads, discarding the soaked one as quickly as he could. He secured the double-layer of gauze pads tightly with the length of bloodied bandage, then moved on to the other hand. His fingers, although not the most graceful instruments of dexterity that humanity had ever engineered, quickly undid the clasps holding the Ace bandage, then swapped out the gauze pads in the same manner as he had before. He clipped the Ace bandages down tight, then gestured to William to loosen his grip. "But don't let go completely," he advised, "or else she'll bleed worse. As I said before... Don't cut blood flow, but don't just let her bleed out, either."

Arborly tilted his head over to where William had spoken from. He was squatting, bent-kneed, directly adjacent to where Kasna sat unconscious, his arms crossed upon his knees. The action of turning his head, combined with the shape his body was twisted into at the time, made him look a bit like an owl.

"I am sure that's not entirely necessary," Arborly said, but after a few moments he managed a shrug and a slight scowl. "But... My name is Arborly. Michael Arborly. I..." What could he say to describe his abilities? He refused to call them 'powers', he couldn't do something as magnificent as throw gouts of flame into the sky or turn invisible at the snap of a finger. So what could he say? "... I find things."

It was an apropos description of what he could do, and also of what he had done in the past - what existed beyond the blank slate that his mind had been turned into.

Cat stopped halfway when the golden man shouted and rubbed her ears again. She didn't like blood and she didn't like shouting. There were two things she learned about herself today. She turned around to shout back that finding a doctor was what she was trying to do, but she soon realised that wouldn't be necessary, because she heard Arborly's hesitant voice giving directions. Another thing she knew was that she didn't like dirt either, but she was glad that unkempt guy was there at the time.

Since the ruckus should have grabbed the boss' attention, she backed away so she wouldn't be too close when he started shouting too. Right now she really wanted to be alone, out of the crowd and the noise that was bound to start again. After the golden man shouted everything was so silent, she wondered if her ears were no longer working. Even in that silence, she could still hear the two men's voices. They carried a little in the silent metal room.

She sighed, which also sounded terribly loud to her, and wove through the gawpers toward the men and unconscious girl. Once the blood was cleaned up, nothing seemed to bother her. She was getting a bit tired of the plain grey walls though. Once she knew where to find her room, she would splash paint all over it, or anything colorful she could find. Apparently, she also knew what paint was, but she didn't know how useful that information would be right now.

Finding her way through the people, she stopped and stood by them. The girl looked as white as the sheet she woke up under. Cat shivered at that thought. It frightened her but she didn't know why, just like that picture in the meeting room. "She should probably be in a bed to rest," The pale redhead stated simply. She tossed her head over her shoulder in the boss' direction. "If he ever lets us out of this room."

Cat crossed her arms over her chest because she wasn't comfortable being stared at, even for a moment, but she listened carefully to the golden man's strange accent. It was still difficult to understand, though this time she managed to get his main idea. He agreed with her and was offering to tell the boss if she would stay here with the sick girl. She shrugged her shoulders. Why should she have a problem with that? In fact, it was better that someone whose hearing wasn't so sensitive to deal with the old man who didn't seem to know how to speak at a reasonable level.

Maybe his ears didn't work very well. She chuckled a bit to herself at that thought, and quickly returned to seriousness. "I wanted to talk to him myself before you shouted and Arborly here offered his services, " she paused and nodded to the twisted up figure of said man. "...but I really don't care who talks to the boss." Then she decided to take a seat beside the girl while still remaining a safe distance from the unkempt character. She acknowledged Arborly had a worthwhile skill, but she still didn't like dirt or blood. "If you want to talk to him, go right ahead," she continued, since she wasn't sure the golden man understood that she wanted him to tell Vaughn that they needed to get this girl someplace else.

'Oh... This one, back again.' Arborly thought to himself as he heard Cat's somewhat familiar voice lilt through the small crowd that had gathered around Kasna and the giant. The explorer felt the tiny hairs on the back of his neck bristle as the group grew further larger. He felt that he would have to vacate soon, for fear of panicking a bit. People didn't appeal to him at all, for some reason. Which was odd - everyone else in the room seemed plenty social; it was just him that seemed to stick to the edges.

He was about to make his way back to those beloved fringes of society when the girl stirred. He caught the movement of her fingers from the corner of his eye, and then her voice - faint and raspy, but nonetheless there - met his ears.

"Wh... Who's Arborly..?"

Without turning, Michael raised a dirty, blood-stained hand, splitting it in a "v-for-victory" gesture so that Kasna could tell who he was. He went about zipping up his medical bag for a few moments without noticing that Kasna's eyes weren't open. He grunted out a simple response - "I am Arborly" - then busied himself inventorying his medical bag. He was almost out of gauze pads, and there was indeed no congealant. His Ace bandages had been severely foreshortened by Kasna's wounds, but he still had a good amount of the stuff. As long as nobody else bit their hands open and bled everywhere, he reckoned he would be fine.

Catalina watched the exchange between the girl, Kasna, and the two men. Arborly reacted as she expected from her short contact with him. He did what he had to do and then returned to his own business. She didn't have any prior contact with the golden man, but she had been watching him. So far he was incredibly annoying, though he did have some sense. He asked for, no more like demanded, assistance when Kasna collapsed and now he was going to get help from the one person who hopefully can do the most good.

Kasna woke up, which was probably a good thing, but she was still unwell as noted by her raspy voice. Again that reminded Cat she was thirsty, that was the word she looked for when she felt she needed water. The girl sat up and Cat reflexively reached out to rest her callused hand on Kasna's forearm. The redhead's palm and fingertips felt slightly rough, but her touch was very gentle. "Take it easy. You don't want to hurt yourself." she whispered in a soothing tone like a mother would to her child.

She didn't understand why she reacted that way and nor did she spend a lot of time thinking about it. She did feel a need to think about it, but couldn't put a word to that feeling. They had no memories except of the present, but she at least had nagging thoughts of something more.