OOC: HOMG, PC is finally back! It took s-o-o-o long...;__; *Whinecling* IC time! ^0^
Not as much as muscle moved on Velin as he witnessed Cress' self-righteous little rant, but it didn't take a genius to notice that the deep, blood red color of the strand at the front was slowly but surely seeping into its neighbors, "Hmm, peculiar." he echoed in his usual impassive tone, "For one so young you seem to have a very poor memory, Cress. I am the one in charge of discipline within this little unit, so unless I am mistaken that would make you the one out of line, seventh apostle." there was a distinct tinge of distaste in Velin's gaze. He had never been fond of this particular apostle and his taste for bravado, and judging by the way it was acting the feeling was mutual, "I thought that not even you could misinterpret a simple command of 'fetch', yet you certainly took your time..." his gaze intensified, "Need I remind you of the five virtues of an apostle?" he raised his right hand, extending one claw-like nail at the time as he counted off the words, "Efficiency. Punctuality. Reliability. Devotion. But above all..." the last nail shot out at lightning speed, "Discipline." he gave Cress an appraising look, "Oddly enough, you seem to have forgotten all of them. Oh, well..." he lowered his hand in a gesture that seemed to suggest dismissing the matter, but in a blur of wionus-propelled motion the first apostle had closed what little distance had remained between him and Cress, his right hand grasping the apostle's arm right above the point where the glove ended and the five, blade-like nails digging into the unprotected skin, accompanied by a sickening sizzling sound and the smell of burnt flesh.
"Perhaps you shall have an easier time keeping them in mind now that they are branded into your skin." Velin remarked casually, releasing his grip to reveal a set of five charred cuts at the spots where his nails had entered; he hadn't cut through to the bone - that would have been wasteful - but they were certainly deep enough to be quite unpleasant, "The mahstion in those cuts will linger for about two days. For that time, I would suggest that you do not attempt to heal them." he continued conversationally, retracting the nails to their usual state and still addressing Cress from over his shoulder, "Contemplate on why you received them and we might avoid such inconveniences in the future. I will expect a detailed report of your subpar performance on this mission within the day. As for you..." he cast a disdainful glance at Villa, "I have been asked to inform you that your contribution to today's experiments was most unsatisfactory, so I would suggest that you go and work on your meditation exercises. There has been talk of terminating failed projects and I should hate to find either of you on that list. Good day."
With that, Velin strode off down the hall without sparing as much as an additional glance for either of the two, the blood red color in his hair slowly retracting in favor of the usual gray and the black pendant around his neck swaying back and forth in queue with his movements. The threat to Villa had been a complete bluff, of course. She was far too valuable a resource to squander. After all...she could remember. Weak and pitiful though she was, she was still Velin's best bet at regaining his own memories, but there was no need to tell her that...after all, thinking that you were fully replaceable tended to do wonders for people's job motivation.
Cress, however...Velin's hair briefly took up a light, reddish tinge as the insolent seventh returned to his thoughts, but he soon calmed himself again, pausing by the strategy room and walking over to the center of the room where he lowered himself into a sitting position, his eyes narrowing to the point where they really weren't more than two stripes of blue in the dark, his standard meditating position. Cress served a purpose too...he was loud, rebellious, and foolishly open about it. In other words: he was a perfect scapegoat. A tiny tinge of teal briefly entered one of the strands at the front, yes: if there was one thing you could count on it was that Cress Alberto Tylonstus would create a scene wherever he went. And as it so happened...a scene might yet turn out to be just what Velin needed.
"Fay! Fay, wake up!"
Faewyn blinked, slowly adjusting to being back in the real world. She found herself lying on the floor, her chair toppled over and a sizable bruise on her left arm, which - Faewyn gathered - she had fallen down on, a worried Reece crouched over her.
"Wha-what happened?" Faewyn mumbled, absent-mindedly rubbing the bruise as she got back to her feet.
"That would be my question." her friend replied, "Everyone else woke up from their visions just fine, but you kept twisting and turning; you even knocked that chair over. What happened in there?"
"It's...sort of blurry." the girl half-lied, giving Reece a faint smile as she rose to her feet, her glance traveling to the others to forestall any further inquiry, "I'm alright, though, really. I-I guess it was just sort of overwhelming." the soldier didn't look convinced, but seemed content to drop the matter as Reid spoke up, inquiring what they should do next.
"Yeah, I'd like to know that too." Faewyn, who had completely missed Mistral's announcement, chimed in.
"Oh, you're going to like this one." Reece replied, grinning, "To you guys and anyone else who spaced out through that; we're going to Beta. Mistral's instructions, no less."
Faewyn's eyes widened, a blissful little smile spreading across her lips, "Really?" she asked, but then a thought struck her, "We? Reece, are you..?"
"Of course I am." Reece replied vigorously, before realizing that perhaps this was slightly uncouth as he turned to address the rest of the group, scratching his head, "I mean, I know we haven't even been properly introduced yet and I'll be the first to admit that I'm still really confused about this whole thing, but I'd still like to help if that's alright with you." he addressed his plea primarily to Reid, who appeared to be the leader of the group, "I mean, apparently I have one of those whatchacallits inside of me too, and by the sound of things it would appear that you need all the help you can get. Besides..." he cast a sideward glance at Faewyn, "Friends of Faewyn's are friends of mine, and Reece Everard never leaves a friend in trouble. My glaive is at your service."