Kyra

Kyra wasn't entirely sure if she was afraid of heights, or just afraid of heights in situations such as the one she found herself in. Rickety old bridges over gaping crevices, in the middle of violent storms, while being chased by hellish mobs... yeah, that would likely be enough to scare anyone. So it was no wonder that she was trembling as she reached the other side, so much so that she nearly dropped the sword still clutched in her wet, frozen hands. Her breaths came and went as short puffs of air, her chest never expanding far enough to move the fabric plastered to her skin. Was this panic

Another ping, another incoming message. Like the others, Kyra chose to ignore it, focusing all of her attention on Warren instead. It would be rude to read her notifications in the middle of a conversation, regardless of her work, or the importance of the discussion taking place. But the doctor knew better than to take her eyes off of the man seated across from her - body language often spoke louder than words, and she didn't want to miss a thing. Warren, interestingly enough, was far more forthcoming than she had expected. More than she was used to. And it took an effort of will to keep the s

The waitress' arrival caught Kyra by surprise. An odd thing, given they were in a restaurant, and waitresses arriving was a part of the typical experience. But the girl's familiarity with the man seated across the table was something Kyra hadn't expected. Selecting a place at random, only for Warren to have a relationship with the owner? Did he frequent all of the eateries in this part of town, or did she just luck out? Well, regardless, at least she now had confirmation that his name was Warren. Unless... it wasn't. And he'd simply given a false name to everyone he met. She studied him,

The threat was enough to send a pulse of cold panic through her. How could it not, given the gleam in his eye, like light off the blade of a sharp knife. Not to mention the absolute certainty with which he spoke the words. If nothing else, he believed them. And a man who believed he could commit violence, regardless of whether or not he truly could, was still dangerous. She’d seen his acting skills at work, and despite his long and storied middle school theater career, he wasn’t THAT good. No, Dazn meant her harm, in one way or another. If he couldn’t bring down her health bar, he could s

The pen clattered to the desktop, rolling over once before coming to rest atop a sheet lined paper. It was covered in neat, precise cursive, detailing the many observations that Kyra had made during and after her most recent session. Phrases such as "discussed implementing new mechanisms for coping with anxiety", "addressed concerns from last session," and "investigated source of abandonment issues" devolved into "noted increased tension at mention of speaking with another professional," and "observed numerous attempts to shift closer, and multiple 'accidental' points of contact during welcome

She inclined her head as the scout introduced himself. "It's a pleasure, Mr. Hackman. It would be a more of a pleasure were it under different circumstances. But I suppose beggars can't be choosers." Despite the truth that wove through her words, she couldn't help the smile that flickered across her face as the party request populated. Raindrops dripped from her hand as she lifted it to press the accept button. There was strength in numbers, and she would gladly take any strength that the universe offered to her. This is such a bad idea, that little voice insider her head chided for the h

The dark-haired man materialized at her arm. Though his voice gave her a start, she had a tight enough hold on control to keep from showing it. Whether it was the stranger’s skills, the distractions around them, or the overall off-kilter feel of the floor, she hadn’t noticed his approach. That likely didn’t bode well for her, given that most things that might sneak up on her could easily end her life. She would have to pay more attention. And if she survived this ordeal, she would seek out someone to help her get stronger for instances just like this one. “I appreciate the help,” she told

"The barricade! It's going to fall! They're getting through!" Shouts rose above the catchy K-pop, high pitched and spiking with panic. Kyra swung away from the Player she'd been tending to, her lavender gaze searching through the rain for the source. All around her, others did the same, pausing in their efforts to watch, horror-struck, as the barricade bowed dangerously. "Wha-what's happening?" stuttered the young man in her arms, his eyes wide and glazed, his health bar only a tiny crimson sliver. "Just another wave," Kyra informed him, her smile warm, her tone even, even as s

How did the saying go? Like water off a duck's back? Whatever it was, that was what happened as Oz's darts struck her, and simply fell away. Did the man truly think he might offend her by flinging such insults? As if she had never been accused of canned responses. If she weren't so skilled when it came to keeping her mask in place, Kyra might have laughed aloud. He thought he scared her? He didn't even come close. She worked with middle schoolers. Tick. Tock. Tick. Toc

Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. The tip of Kyra’s pen tapped in tandem with the clock that hung above her head. A made-to-order model, the ornately carved wooden leaves circled the brown and bronze face in a comfortingly familiar way. The piece was identical to the one that her mother had bought for her father in Germany’s Black Forest. It hung in his study until Kyra was eleven, when he had replaced it with an original Cézanne, and Kyra had freed the clock from the donation bin. The girl had squirreled it away until she might have a home of her own. The genuine article still sat in a box beneath

"A rumor?" Kyra echoed, interest coloring her tone and flashing in her amethyst eyes. "I've read a number of theories on the various message boards. I may not venture out much, but I enjoy the unknown, and the stories of the Players who explore these rumors." Though she didn't quite cross into "kid in a candy shop" territory - Kyra was far too proper for that - she did shift eagerly from one foot to the other. "If you'll have me, I'd be interested in finishing whatever it was that you and Lessa started." The woman paused long enough to survey her surroundings, a faint line tracing her brow as

Even as a small smile crossed Kyra’s pink lips, she regarded the man more closely. His shrug screamed nonchalance, but something in tone suggested that single statement held significance. Was this a man who gave up easily when it came to understanding others? Or had Lessa given him ample reason to throw in the metaphorical towel? Curiosity tugged at the edge of her consciousness, even as her conscience told her to leave it alone. Just as a doctor couldn’t diagnose every injured man on the street, neither could Kyra psychoanalyze every stranger she came across. Besides, this Player’s mind was h

At the sight of the heavily armored woman, Kyra felt a weight of her own lift from her chest. Lifting a hand in silent greeting, the woman closed the distance between them in short, crisp strides. The heels of her knee-high boots clipped smartly across the wooden bridge, further announcing her presence as she neared the pair. When she slowed to a stop, she clasped her hands delicately, and offered Lessa a small smile. "Thank you, Lessa, for agreeing to meet with me." Her words flowed like rich honey, sweet and warm, and without break or hesitation. If she had any qualms with standing outside t

If the woman's odd antics weren't amusing enough, her question coaxed a grin from Kyra. Reaching up to shift her long silver hair from her face, she studied Quip for a moment. "Perhaps you're thinking of a psychiatrist," she countered gently. "They have the medical degree, and have a much easier time prescribing medications. Psychologists, on the other hand, deal primarily with the emotional and behavioral aspects of mental health. While we're certainly able to diagnose patients, and make recommendations, it is rare that we will hand out drugs." Did she have to quote Quip directly? No, but she

Amusement came into Kyra's eyes, and the faintest blush warmed her cheeks. "No," she assured Quip, waving off the notion with a gentle flick of her wrist. "I assure you, there is no boyfriend involved. No relationships at all, aside from what I've established through my work." The comment, it seemed, was the perfect segue into Koga's initial question. But what was the best way to phrase her answer? More than a few people had let Kyra know that she was "wasting her time," and "aught to get a real job like a blacksmith or alchemist." Something to help the frontlines? Were you to ask her, Kyra wo