Wren pressed herself against the cupboard walls, her face still buried in her knees and her eyes screwed shut. The screams and cries were hardly muffled, and twice she had heard a hard slam as someone tripped onto the ground right beside her, only to scream in terror as something yanked them away. She could do nothing but listen, before something stirred inside of her.
Distaste would be an understatement. Rarely did Wren hate something, but the feelings inside her were so unbelievably intense that she couldn't describe it any other way. She could feel the heat before it had spread anywhere near the dining hall. She felt her skin prickle, and the hairs on the nape of her neck rose. This was wrong. Something was very, very wrong. Spurred by this weird, inexpiable hate, the girl nudged the cabinet door open with her foot, going rigid at the sounds that greeted her. The screams were louder, now; under any other circumstances, she would’ve hid again, but at that very moment she had one singular goal; get rid of that goddamn heat. The girl ducked out of the cabinet, her horns lightly scraping the top of the opening. She cringed softly, her nose scrunching slightly. She shook it off, deciding she would deal with her horniness later.
Wait, no. Not her horniness, that was… definitely not the right word.
She staggered up to her feet, booking it in the direction she felt the fire was. Strangely, she wasn’t moving based on any of her senses; she was moving on a feeling, an insight she couldn't describe. She couldn’t tell what it was, but something in her knew where the flames were.
Extinguish it. Extinguish the flames. Eradicate them.
It felt like her thoughts weren’t her own. Wren skidded onto the scene after a particular hard lurch of the ship, her white eyes stretching open as she tried to analyze the situation; virtually everything was on fire. The water sloshing over from the sides of the ship did nothing to extinguish it. She could feel the heat closing in on her, and for whatever reason this filled her with so much frustration that she felt herself trembling.
“Why’d it have to be fucking fire?!” she growled, and on that emphasized word, a small cloud formed over them, and a brief flash of rain came from it, pattering onto the deck. Strangely enough, this rain seemed to be getting rid of the fire just fine, and around her she heard occasional sizzles as steam lifted into the air. She blinked, stunned, taking a step back as she looked up at the now-dissipating cloud. The fire immediately took over the spot of temporary calmness, and her brow furrowed.
Was… did I…?
Before she had a moment to think, she whipped her head around to find one of those fish-men slithering towards her. Her eyes screwed shut and she immediately raised her arms over her face, and she cringed as she felt a wet, webbed hand grab her forearm. This was how she died.
Except it totally wasn’t, because nothing happened after that. Warily, Wren peeped an eye open, and found herself looking at a fish-man, encased in a thin shell of ice. The chill from her skin had shot up to his hand, freezing the moisture all over his body. Her jaw fell open, stunned, before she shook her head firmly to force herself to focus as she shoved him off of her, scrambling away.
It wasn't long before she found the source. She didn't necessarily know why, but that foreign feeling in her body knew it was him. The grey skin, tail, and blazes of fire atop his head were certainly new, but she recognized him as the sweaty workout boy immediately. The feeling of hatred in her gut coiled, as if it were alive, growling and snapping furiously, and her lip curled back almost by instinct.
That second inner monologue that she was positive didn't belong to her dropped the name in her mind, and for whatever reason she accepted it. She bit her tongue as another fish-man-thing scrambled towards her. He was armed, with a big fork. In her panic and confusion, it seemed that Wren had completely forgotten the word "trident". He barreled at her without hesitance, yet whatever gave her the horns and white hair apparently made her ridiculously quick, as she was able to duck past him with ease, reflexes she certainly didn't own before. He whirled around, charging at her again. She was fairly certain that, with these new sci-fi movie abilities, she would've been able to fend him off, but he had a long weapon, and the fire around them was really starting to upset her again. She gritted her teeth firmly, her knees buckling as the fish-man shoved against her chest with the handle of the fork. She yelped in surprise as she fell to the ground, scrambling backwards as he lunged at her with the fork. As the third prong grazed her forearm, she tumbled back, her bare legs being lapped at by the flames. Clenching her fists, she whirled around in the direction of who she could only assume was Katgutsuchi, based on that little voice in her ear. Beside him was a boy with silver hair, and it occurred to her that it might be the boy with the crossword puzzle.
"Can you please do something about your fucking fire problem?!" she snapped, feeling the bitter cold growing in her throat as her voice rang out loudly among the chaos. She couldn't necessarily wait for a reply, as she was quickly preoccupied in wrestling the fish-man for the trident.