Her intense and sharp emotion attacks everyone in a 10m radius of her. All of the students in the room try their best not to react. Binders and pencils are clutched tightly, slowly released so as not to make her realize that she got to them, though she can always tell who she affects. Melody keeps her signal sent for another moment.
"Yeh!"
"Gah!"
"Nghh!"
Smirking at their stifled pains, Melody then lets her halo, currently doubling as a hair-tie, glow a sharp yellow-gold as it hovers above her, slowing growing in size. Small waves of her energy drip off of the ring and float out into the room. After she can see the sweat bead from the nearest student fall to their shoulder, she releases her growing power, letting it die in the air.
After a shared moment of reprieve, the class backs off of Melody and tries to move on with their day. Half a moment of peace passes and Melody sets her books to the corner of her desk. Then, a young brute steps towards the unaware girl, dropping the ground by little with his footsteps as he stomps over.
"Hey!"
Okirk, and his band of thugs, shout at Melody. Slamming down his book bag onto her desk.
SWAKK
Okirk and his friends stop and pose intimidatingly, glaring down their nose-bridges at the seated schoolgirl.
Melody lets out a surprised yip at their arrival, dropping a lock of her hair she had twirled in her hand.
"Kah."
"What do you want?"
Melody's spoken words are less sharp, still pointed, but having a less damaging effect, especially against this ogre-like boy above her now. Okirk puffs his chest, he's not worried about her power at this moment, either lending to her softer image, or the lack of violent energy emitting from her currently. He wears a dark smile, clearly of the mind that he's superior.
"It's true, isn't it? You're the freak who was hanging out with that Cursed…"
Okirk gives a devilish grin to his goons, and they respond in kind, turning their sheepish smiles into truly twisted smiles like their leaders.
"Heh, yeah."
"Freak."
Melody doesn't spare the two a thought or glance, keeping Okirk's intense gaze with her own.
"What of it?"
Glaring beneath her brow, Melody wears her best mean face. Melody has been the target of all sorts of Blessed because of her friendship with Mason. She long learned to turn a deaf ear on their complaints and snide remarks towards her.
"You know what. It gives us a bad name to be seen with the Cursed."
Okirk lips curl upward, wearing his disgust like an accessory. His ogre-like features play well to this disgusted visage, looking like a beast intending to kill for food.
"it's bad enough that we had to give them half of the school, now you want to fraternize with the enemy?"
Okirk huffs his chest up and throws his hands around, infuriated, and showing it. His words spit into the air, loud enough for the class to turn their own attention to him, gathering like-minded thoughts in the process.
"He's right."
"Geez, why doesn't she get that?"
Some thoughts slip through Melody's attempted focus. Then, Melody goes from angry to genuinely confused, or maybe it's baffled.
"Enemy? They're victims, like you and me!?"
Melody's chord is struck. She's never been a fan of the stigma behind Cursed or Blessed. That there is ever a defining side of being good or bad, of having a set of morals and ethics. She has more than met her fair share of Bad Blessed and Good Cursed. The rules of this world suck.
Melody takes a stand, pushing her desk out a few inches, and her chair back into her neighbor behind her.
Okirk reels, taken aback by her ignorance, and afraid she'd come out swinging.
"Pfft. My dad says that when humans witnessed the Angels fall and the Demons rise, some humans even sided with the Demons, fighting to take down our Heavenly Angels. Only real scum does stuff like that."
Okirk crosses his arms, positing the history that his father would tell him about their lineage.
"Yeah."
"Real scum."
The cronies pitch in, and Okirk is laid back in his posture, satisfied. The thugs behind him bump their meaty fists and smile.
"Nrgh."
Melody grits her teeth. This time, she doesn't have to think about activating her Halo, it's lighting up on its own and Melody is ready to reach for it-
"That's enough."
A deep but soft voice croaks out to them, reaching into their thoughts like a faraway but intense command. Wondering looks spring throughout the classroom. Heads angle and tilt trying to find where the voice is coming from. It sounds far, but close. The class shuffles their footsteps about, investigating.
"Haaagh. Goddamn- er, I mean. Uh…. just damn."
The voice continues to echo, sounding a bit further away this time. It plays in all of their heads still, causing some confused chuckles to flutter about the students.
Melody can feel the voice in her head, speaking with content, and then to this sudden unsure and unequipped thought.
"Jeez, how many stairs does this damn school have?"
The speaker, not detaching his hold over their minds, keeps lending his thoughts out, somehow running out of breath as they do. Shared glances and giggles bounce around the room. Everyone is either in awe or waiting to see what this turns out to be.
"Guh. this is ridiculous!!"
The voice shrieks. Just then, down the hallway from their classroom, a thud of books falls to the floor. All of their heads shoot to look at the door.
"What is going on?"
Melody thinks to herself, looking around then joining everyone to stare towards where the voice is supposed to come from.
"Was he talking to us… from down there!?"
Melody can recognize the ability to both cast and listen to thoughts, but also knows full well the limitations normally given to every Blessed.
"He said how many stairs, which means he must've been down on the first floor? That's like 100 meters!"
Melody's thoughts race around her head, wondering about all of the possibilities a person this powerful could bring. Melody expectantly sits with the class, waiting to see this person who would and could talk to them from such a distance. His voice leaves their heads now, and a fainter yelp rings through the empty hall outside their door.
"Gah!"
A ruffling of a jacket and arm sleeves thrash around, the sound plays like a bad improv sketch. After a nervous bit of staring around and wondering what is happening, the students look again at the door, where, surely this voice must be getting closer too soon.
SHEROOOOK
Continued in PART TWELVE…