Léda was a normal orphan, raised by nuns, just living her boring little life spiced with teen drama. That is until one night she witnesses a man killing two who attacked her... Wait... Why was she attacked? And by who? Who knows, not her for sure, n...
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"That just went neatly for you," Léda snorted as they stepped out to the hall, leaving the chilling office of Volkov behind. "Why didn't you just tell her where to shove it?" She stopped with a huff. "I mean, it couldn't be anymore obvious being my Pracawhata is the last thing you want to do." She was aware she got the name of the title wrong but she could care less after she'd just witnessed Raiden turning from Mr. Don't-mess-with-me-or-else into a brainwashed puppet.
"Praeceptor, instructor if you like," he corrected her with an even voice. "There's a chain of command, Léda." His face was as stoic as ever but his eyes were flickering dangerously. He might not allow himself to voice his rage but it was there, she could see it; she could see it in the way his spine strained, his hands tightened into fists, the vein under his ear pumped angrily, colouring the base of his neck. "You get an order, you do as you're told. You don't think. You don't argue. You don't talk back."
"Not brainwashed at all," she commented, not backing down. It was obvious in spite of his words, he was upset. Why not just admit it? "So if she was to tell you to jump from the top of the roof, you'd just do it?"
"Yes," he answered simply, without an ounce of hesitation.
"You're all crazy," she gaped at him. Did they actually brainwash people here? Did they give them some kind of drugs to make them compliant? This was unreal.
"There's an order to keep us safe, to stop us from falling into anarchy. You'll see over time that this is how things have to be," he explained before grabbing her arm and starting to pull her after him. His grip was not painful but she felt it. She felt the strength behind it. Léda knew even if she tried, she couldn't slip out of his hold.
"I don't want to see a type of order where I can't make my own decisions. I'm not some kind of brainless doll to just push around as you like." He tightened his grip on her, as if sensing her instincts were screaming her to run.
"Your eyes have been opened, you saw them. From now on you're even more of a target because you know what to look for. Are you telling me you could overlook what happened last night? Forget those Maerors?" He turned to her, the golden circle around his iris practically glowing in the dim light. "These rules are here so we can fall in line against the enemy. There are more important things than free will when it comes to life and death." He was right about one thing. She'd keep expecting those freaks to hide around any corner, to jump at her and... take her soul, or kill her. But was she willing to sacrifice her free will, her independence for nothing but survival? Was surviving life was life at all? Would it worth it in the end?
"Who is this Dativas or what?" Léda couldn't answer him without getting into an existential argument and this wasn't the right moment for that. He loosened his hold on her arm but didn't let go entirely. They started walking again. She'd have to put up with this whole insanity until she found a way out of there, Léda realized quickly. Maybe if she acted all compliant, she'd have an easier job to get free.
