Xaviers!

"Well, not usually. A lot of people pretend to be nice or polite when they're in public, just for the sake of getting along."

"And even though I don't try to pry, I get reminded of that all too often."

"I guess I also had to learn the hard way that what you look like isn't who you are. Like, isn't even related in the slightest."

"I'm still struggling with that, but I suppose with your abilities, that's a thing you have to get used to quickly."

"Well you're... more honest than most, if that helps."

"Life's too short for excessive bullshit," she says, starting to cook some sausage over the fire.

"It's refreshing, really. I mean, nobody's completely open, but the people who are more open are worth sticking around."

"So you're saying there's no more mystery left?" Tereza smirks.

"...can I plead the fifth? That's a Yank thing, but the crime shows assure me it's quite useful."

"Well, considering I'm Russian and you're Irish, I'm not sure it really applies," she grins.

"Then I shall choose whatever answer gets me sausages."

"As if I wouldn't feed you," she says, offering one of the hot sausages to Sam.

"Far be it for me to insult the cook," she chuckles, tossing the sausage from hand to hand as it cools.

Tereza starts munching on one herself while setting up some other skewers with vegetables to roast, "So now that you've got almost a whole semester under your belt and you seem more comfortable in your own skin, have you given any thought to what you'll do after university?"

"God, I think if anything I'm less sure."

"With what's already happened, I'm fairly certain I'll be pulling hero duty until I physically can't anymore." She stares into the flames for a bit, "And I think I'm mostly okay with that."

"...could be a long time, with the way you heal."

"That's the bit I haven't quite come to terms with yet. Not sure I'm prepared to live for potentially several hundred years, if Isolde is any indication."

"Sounds like it'd get bloody lonely."

"I imagine that contributed to her insanity."

"Are we supposed to feel sorry for her? Honestly?"

"Yes? No? I don't know. She's confusing. I want to hate her, but there's some part of me that can't help but feel sorry for her."

"Well she's obviously... crossed a line, aye?"

"Something like that. I'm not sure what her game is, but I'm not going to worry about it."

"That's probably for the best. You don't owe her anything."

"A punch in the mouth maybe, but that's about it."

"...you'll have to invite me to spectate, you know." She snorts.

"So you won't just sense it and come to watch?"

"If it happens too quick, I might miss something."

"I have a feeling that if I start punching her, it will be quite some time before I stop."

"Well there's no need to tease," she smirks.

"Although, I thought you really liked the new me, so maybe she earns a brief punching reprieve for that?"

"I can... like the overall results even if I don't like the distress she's caused you," she says carefully.

Tereza waves the carefulness away, "You can speak your mind bluntly, you know that, right?"

"...well alright, I guess I just... like seeing you turned loose. It's like I can feel the wolf in you even when you're human," she says as she reaches out to run her fingers along Tereza's thick hair.

"Every time we hold hands I can feel the potential for claws there, for things that rip and tear. Every time we kiss I sense the weapons there, waiting to happen."

"And that's... very attractive to me," she says, now blushing.

Something about that confession seems to click with her. Tereza's irises flash yellow for a moment and she leans up to kiss Sam, her hands leaving off fidgeting with the fire to pull Sam closer.

Sam for her part doesn't need to be asked twice, her fingers curling into Tereza's hair as she kisses back eagerly.

Her own hair grows longer and wilder in her reverie, black feathers woven in among it.

((Fade to fun, food, fun, and black...))

Something wakes Sam up in the middle of the night or at least it seems like she's awake. She finds herself curled up next to Tereza, snuggled into a joined sleeping bag set without a stitch on. Tereza is sound asleep, not snoring in the slightest, so at first Sam isn't sure what awakened her. Then she hears it, carried to her on the breeze:
"Offerings given to the Phantom Queen,
Offerings duly accepted by the same,
I call on the Battlecrow,
For I would have words with her,
That a bargain may be struck."

Some part of Sam understands that the words aren't English and they're not even modern Gaelic. They're something older and those words thrum with power.

Sam frowns, sitting up.

"...whoever you are, this isn't funny."

"No offense is meant and no humor intended,
but the rules must be observed."

The voice is closer now. Tereza seems to still be sleeping soundly, even Sam's voice hadn't awakened her.

Sam looks with some concern to Tereza, but slips out of the sleeping bag.

As she climbs out of the tent, what looks like a long gown of black feathers emerges from her skin as she looks around in the night air.