Ranking

Two

Uma didn't get a wink of sleep.  A Duel was set for that morning.  If Osric didn't punish her, Nathel certainly would after the Duel.  At the moment, Uma's was feeling too frazzled to care.  Last night's terrifying experience pumped adrenaline through her blood, her eyes unable to shut.  At last, the sun was peeking his first rays into view.  Uma's eyes flickered across the clock on the wall across from her bed. It read 5:23 AM.

Finally.  She slipped from her bed, unaffected by the sudden cold as she stripped off her nightgown and stepped into the standard uniform--black leather jacket, black pants, and black boots.  As a requirement from the Pales, she pinned an ashen, pallid green scythe to the lapel of her jacket.

After finishing her morning routine, Uma opened her door and exited her room, braiding back her golden locks.  Osric was there, leaning against the wall by her door and smirking up at her tall stature.  "My, my, my, don't you look well rested."

Uma said nothing as they began to walk through the gloomy corridors to the dining hall.  Osric moved beside her as a Mentor should: slightly ahead of the pupil, occasionally nodding at the lower-ranked people they passed.  Casually he brought up last night's events.  "Did you hear something last night?"  He looked pointedly at Uma.

She stopped walking.  So did Osric.  Uma held her head high, staring at his dark glasses, the pits, the burns, the scars that marred his face.  "A whipping is nothing."  

Osric simply turned his head away, seemingly satisfied with her answer.  Such was the way of the Pales; any indication of emotion was crushed and punished.  In what way depended on Nathel's mood.

The two reached the quiet dining hall and went their seperate ways.  The moment Osric left, Nathel replaced his spot. Studying Uma's pale face, Nathel's voice and young angelic face were cool and calm, but the angry redness at the back of his muscled neck betrayed how he felt.

The expressionless mask still on his face, Nathel grabbed Uma and pinned her to the white wall by her throat.  "Little girlie didn't get any sleep, did she?  Well, neither did I.  I swear, if you didn't have a Duel today..."  She let him choke her, hands dangling lazily at her sides.  Uma felt a mirthless smile fighting to come on to her lips.  Do it.  I dare you.  Her indigo eyes were challenging, clearly amused.  His dark brown ones held their own challenge: I dare you.  I dare you to lose this Duel.

Nathel's grip unclenched and Uma fell on her feet, unwilling to give him the satisfaction of seeing her collapse.  How someone so young could be so cruel a Horseman, she didn't know.  As he left, she scanned the dining hall.  No one had looked up, but they all knew what had happened.  For the first time in her thirteen years spent with the Pales, Uma couldn't help but wonder what it was like outside the Four Horsemen families, without Duels to the death, without oppression.

But she did know what it was like outside all this brutality.  Once.  When she was six years old.  That Uma was dead now, a wisp of her past.  She wasn't supposed to remember the innocent little girl who woke up one morning covered in her own parents' blood.

Heading for Alock's table, Uma slid down, disregarding breakfast.  She wasn't in the mood to talk.

~

"Do you have your swords?  Knives?  Everything you need?"  Alock was making his inspection again.  Uma could have laughed at the way he nagged her like a mother bird.  But when was the last time she had laughed?  She had but a handful of emotions in her life, happiness not one she was familiar with.

Uma reviewed the little information she knew about her opponent.  

Afflitation: Reds.