From the Perspectives of Scarlet, Magnus, and Theodore

Scarlet

She walked past the flock of people: superficial, pretentious, mediocre. With her hands clasped behind her back, her eyes darted back and forth through the whole room: not a single detail missed. She hovered through the end of the room and heard a dark voice slithering its way toward her. It's calling her, urging her to come near. She wanted to get away; but her hands, her feet, and her eyes: they hindered her. They pulled her back. She had to stay, to stay and govern the mindless people inside the room. She had to get away said the voice. She had to let everything go. She had to break free. But with her hands, feet, and eyes was her soul chained in a corner: forgotten, almost vanishing, almost non-existent. Like a shadow, a passing. She passed. Suddenly, then slowly. She let the voice carry her out to the open where everybody could see her, where everybody could see how she broke free from the clasps of her own hands, eyes, and feet. She was considered a vigilante, an outsider. Yet at that moment, all she could ever feel was a complete sense of belongingness and calm. She was alone, and there she belonged.