It was a bright day. Even for the chill of winter, it was decently warm. Darla's body was cold, though. She sat in the snowy woods, on her knees. She wore only the basest of clothing- pants and a long-sleeved shirt. No jacket or accessories- not even the shawl she received from Aoi. There was a good reason for this- a good reason, even for the fact that her sleeves were rolled up. One directed to hide her scars, by her parents of all people, typically did obey if they were like Darla. So, what reason would she have to disregard those demands? For sitting in the snow, even?

It was a very elementary situation, as anybody that happened to witness the scene would understand, and perhaps lose their most recently ingested meal of the day.

To her right was her tool kit. Needles, tweezers, small files, miniature scissors, blades fashioned similar to scalpels. These and many more were there- most located on a small white sheet, square in shape, a few inches away from the clean kit. All the tools on the sheet had been used- and some were red. To her left was another sheet, similar in color, make, and shape. Upon it rested undeniably red masses of what was undeniably flesh, making it an undeniable canvas to keep the meat clean. Another canvas, two inches “above” the meat-canvas, was host to a number of white pieces, tinged red. Ivory bones, some whole, some cut, rested. Neither canvas had their hosts tossed about haphazardly, though. Each piece of meat and each bone was carefully organized on their respective canvas. It was chaos given order. Grotesque beauty. Her final canvas was “above” the tool sheet, empty. It was intended to be utilized, along with a cleaning solution, for her hands and her tools.

Darla's hands were fairly pale. But their complexion was obscured. Crimson painted the smooth surfaces. Spots, especially on her fingers, were damp. Most areas were dry or smeared. This, of course, was not her blood. Not her meat, nor her bones, either. If she had become that self-destructive, that desirous of an eternal slumber, Aoi would have found out long before the execution of her plans. Even if not, and she was able to perform the act, it would have been quicker. She was no alien to pain. She grew tired of it, not in the sense that she hated pain, but in that it was boring. Death itself had begun to bore her, really, but it was a stepping stone to slumber, if she ever got to that point.

A slight jerk. She retracted her left hand and set the thin nail file down onto the tool sheet. Then, with both her left and right hands, she carefully tugged and broke a small bone away from the mass in front of her. Extreme care was needed. Not for herself, but so that the bone did not damage anything else down there. And to prevent the blood from staining anything. After placing the bone down on the sheet, near other similarly-shaped pieces, she utilized the mostly-clean back of her left hand to rub her chin, the back of her right rubbing her side to drive her sleeve up a little further. Several scars, standing in contrast even with her pale skin, were visible. Especially over her wrists. In fact, over the veins, the scars multiplied with alarming frequency. And that was just what was visible.

It was then that she surveyed her work so far. In front of her, the snow had been cleared. In the patch of dead ground that was laid bare, a rabbit laid, sleeping still. Its sleep, however, would be eternal. Darla was kind enough to grant it a cure to its boredom- the eternal dream. More than that, she was merciful enough to make its death instantaneous- a single needle through the heart. The rabbit's appendages were stretched out for the sake of making the chore easier- in that no blood would drip on them. Each was kept straight by needles on either side of the appendage, thrust into the ground. Needles running between the tips of both needles in these cases kept the legs neatly pinned to the ground. This ensured that the risk of blood splatter dropped.

The rabbit's torso was neatly cut open. Her scalpel had performed its duty well. The flaps of hide were stretched to either side, pinned to the dirt with more needles. This allowed her to work to proceed with relative ease. Most of the blood had been extracted already. In the spread opening before her, only bits of white, bones that had yet to be removed, and small bits of meat, more embedded in the extremities, remained. It seemed that it was just about time to take the scalpel to the legs. Removal of bones and flesh from the limbs typically was annoying. This was because Darla was very picky about the neater details. She could even be called a perfectionist, though this definitely suggested much more was wrong about her, considering what it was she was doing.

All this time, though, she'd been focused on her work. Her mind had done little in the way of unnecessary thought. It was only as she stared at the half-done rabbit that she considered what to do with it. Aoi had several rabbits already. She had no desire to give these to other people, though. Nobody else would appreciate her work like her sister did. So what else could she do? Sewing was possible, sure, but a rabbit did not provide enough fur for anything worthwhile. The bones could be converted into small, cheap accessories if she desired it. The meat, clean unlike that of the rabbits she used poison on, could be experimented with in food. What remained was the vessel itself- the corpse. Stuffing it was simple.

But stuffing it normally was boring.

Then it struck her. It was an idea similar to the toys little boys had. Why not turn the rabbit into an action figure of sorts? With moments, the girl's mind had pieced together numerous works of fiction. Roger, the Bunny Warrior had been conceptualized. Some might have praised her for coming up with something so quickly- she already had a back story and everything- but it would have been empty praise. Everything about him, about Roger, was taken from other media. The number of references she had utilized to cross-stitch the story exceeded one hundred. She could not create. She knew that. What she could do was twist and replace. Hers was an act. It was a faker's creation. Media was filled with cliches and rip-offs. Roger's story was no different- only the cliches varied from just Japanese works. They encompassed Chinese, German, African, French, and American popular culture within the first few seconds. As the ideas cultured and melded together, she had taken generic plot devices and popular ideas from most of the civilized world.

Her mind wandered for a few more moments. The “creation” of the story was nothing but a pile of ripoffs. It was not creation, but an amalgamation of existing concepts. Either way, she had no intentions of sharing it. Roger was before her. And now had a goal in mind with him. He would stand on his hind legs, clad in mail and holding his blade and head high. It was a cruel way of toying with the dead. But that was Darla's plan. It almost made her excited. It was different.

And the biggest irony? Roger's vessel, the corpse that held his conceptualized existence? Was actually female.

Notes: A bit long. A bit morbid. But you liked Darla, so I imagine you'll enjoy. Others might be a bit creeped/weirded out, though.

Winter...that time again. There would be no escaping the hollow feeling in her chest, but she could lessen it at least. Her usual companions were nice and warm in their shelter, out of the seasonal weather, so she would have to visit them later. She could still happen upon a stray or two, or more as the case sometimes was. The brisk air and a good, long walk might help distract her from pensive thoughts as well. The more connected she could be with nature, the more likely she would be able to succeed, not to mention, the less likely she would happen upon someone else from the schools, lest she have to try and pick herself back up fully.

Which was why she was wandering about the Spican forestry, clad in a more simple blue kimono, of a heavier fabric to keep at least some of the chill out; she needed crisp air, not hypothermia after all. She was not without her signature butterfly clasp - or more specifically, one of the clasps as the only one she favoured had left her possession, along with a little piece of her. With all that being said, she still lacked footwear, but her feet calloused enough that the ground failed to bother her as she moved. The silverette was fully aware that she had to keep moving though, or else her extremities would still cool too rapidly. Alternating between brisk walking and a half-step dance, Chiharu was pleased to note that it was remarkably peaceful amongst the trees and snow, letting the coolness invade her skin, invigorating her and pushing the past nicely out of her mind. Not a person or soul in sight; a little saddening since that included any butterflies that she might befriend. She seemed alone with her less than perfect plan to wander the icy forest.

Seemed, that was, until she caught herself up, spotting another figure in the distance. Her step slowing immediately, the Miatorian tilted her head, azure orbs attempting to understand what exactly the figure was up to. Drawing closer, she quietly slipped across the white blanket, eyes widening the nearer she came to the veritable surgical operation taking place. From here, the stark contrast between red and white was unmistakable, and the tools laid out around the girl supported a nasty conclusion - an animal, dissected for some purpose or another. From what she could tell...it was as if she were making the poor thing into a kind of toy, and given the place and tools around, Chiharu doubted, even with all her optimistic lenience towards others, that the rabbit had died of natural causes prior. Despite trying not to reveal herself, a gasp slipped through her shocked composure, easily audible in the otherwise silent forest.

Well crap. She'd stumbled upon something quite disturbing - or rather, someone - and she couldn't even hide. She was not so naive as to think the world could function without violence, but violence against an animal, especially one who posed so little danger in most cases, was an unbearable thought for her; if it were to turn against the little ones even...Chiharu shuddered visibly at the thought. In a fearful, near heartbroken voice, she called out,"W-What....what have you done to that poor creature?!"

Notes: Yes, she is wearing little more than a kimono outside in winter. She's weird like that. Hopefully the emotional background stuff isn't a bother; it's part of what defines her recent personality.

A voice drew Darla out of her concentration. Very faintly prior, she believed she did process some degree of the snow crunching. It was fortunate that it was a human and not a beast. A wild animal might have put her under with her being distracted. And that would be horridly ironic. Slowly retracting her hands from both her tools and Roger, she sat straight. Luckily, she had not begun on the limbs just yet. She was still observing her handiwork- but just about ready to continue. And then, slowly, as if her neck were stiff, she turned to look towards the source of the cry of outrage.

Her eyes were disinterested. Her expression was exceedingly dull. For a moment, she was silent. That was because her lips were half-stuck together, and she eventually pulled them apart with a little effort. Letting out a slight cough to ensure that her vocal cords were functioning, she tilted her head to the side. If anything, she looked curious. Then it dawned on her. Not everybody was openly able to hunt animals. Include that this was, in fact, Japan, and that it was a girl, presumably another student going by body size and voice level, and it made perfect sense that this action was seen as crazy, wild, or just plain wrong. It was part of the reason she never shared her details with Aoi.

Still, nobody had ever walked up on her while she did her work before. She was typically very careful and picky about how she did it. The fact that someone did arrive was both interesting and unique. The fact that, rather than stopping her, she simply shouted, was another. Was she too afraid to come closer- did the kimono girl think that she was some psychopathic devil with blades? Or perhaps she did not trust in her own abilities while clad in such a cumbersome outfit? Either case was possible. Fear was evident. That voice was enough to suggest that. But she also seemed sad. A nature lover. A natural enemy to Darla, even though she could not care less.

“If you come closer, you would not have to ask. But since you refuse, I suppose I will elaborate for your sake. After giving the rabbit an instant death caused by a needle through the heart, I cleared a space for my workshop. Then, taking a scalpel, I cut around the point which the needle entered. I had to be careful due to the fact that the blood had not settled yet, and could easily stain the fur. After cutting enough of the hide and making cuts, I could peel the hide back and pin it to the ground for the sake of keeping the blood off of it. Now, I doubt the specifics at this point matter to you, so I'll summarize it. I removed the organs and major muscle meat, as you can see on that canvas there. I also cut through and removed the bones that could receive this treatment, and they are located there.”

The girl gestured at the appropriate canvases as she spoke. She was slightly annoyed at having been drawn from her work, but she noticed herself being passively aggressive. Was it because her private work was being seen by another? Or was it because this was a stranger that bothered her? Or. . . was it a meaningless act of aggression towards a nature lover that, at the root of things, rejected her actions and her method of making gifts? Honestly, Darla did not know. It was vexing. It was confusing. It was new, though. She desired further knowledge on this. . . emotion? She needed greater clarity of her own personal workings. Her self was a greater mystery than the world's workings. Her mind was unknown to her, though the minds of others were easily deciphered through observations. It was a truly sad state of affairs.

“If you were looking for motivations, though, I suppose I will give you a logical reasoning behind my against this 'poor creature'. For starters, the meat is clean. Though people consider it game-y, I did have intentions of trying it and using it for cooking. Next, the bones can be salvaged for tools or for accessories, dependent upon my mood. And, of course, the body itself is perfect to stuff- no different from what hunters do in other regions. Taxidermy, you understand. You cannot claim that I am wasteful, can you? I'm utilizing everything I took the life from. I'm not a pleasure seeker with a penchant for killing animals.”

That was half-true. Animals were technically different from birds. She was needlessly cruel to birds. So, by technicality, she was being honest. Not that the kimono-clad stranger needed to know any of the details. Then, a slight smile curled her lips. Darla couldn't read her own expression, but she had an inkling of an idea. Her smile was sarcastic, somewhat cold, and very confident.

“Besides, at the roots of things, Astraea Hill is a Catholic foundation. This means that they, on some level, support the contents of the religious document, the Bible. An excerpt from the first chapter of the first book clearly dictates one thing. God gave man the permission and the right to rule over the earth. In fact, it specifically states- in some degree of variation, dependent upon your translation- 'subdue the earth, and have dominion over the fish of the sea, and over the foul of the air, and over every living thing that move over the earth'.” She paused. She felt exceeding amused over herself. Slowly, her gaze turned back to her rabbit. She did not expect the girl to leave yet, but she believed she could split her attention without any loss of quality on her work.

“Or will you tell me that I cannot use such things as justification for my choice of actions? Do you have an argument to still make? I may not be looking at you, but I am still listening. Say what you want. I will hear you. And I will respond.” She actually felt full of herself now. Not because of simply believing that she'd shattered any logical damnation for her actions, but because she imagined, on some level, her logical analysis probably hurt the nature-lover.

Perhaps she was a vindictive sadist?

The initial response she received made her worry intensify, as the other girl seemed so utterly unabashed, uninterested and not at all worried about what she was doing. Barely holding what composure she had left, the dancer grimaced as an explanation was launched into, detailing things rather rationally and scientifically. At least it had been a painless death, but still...

Of course, she had no time for such thoughts to grow, as her train of thinking derailed with the incoming flux of information that the brunette spat out at her. Her body still reacted somewhat, the subtle rise of revulsion creeping into her features as her azure gaze followed the explanatory gesturing, unable to stop herself from seeing the innards and other components of the rabbit neatly removed and set aside. Somehow, she kept her stature still, though she was frozen to the spot, a look of horror still etched upon her features.

A look of horror that slowly warped into confusion, contemplation and ultimately a saddened and somewhat repulsed expression. "I...cannot say whether you are right or wrong, as it's not my place, nor within my knowledge. An otherwise innocent creature though..." A small shiver ran through the dancer, as she tried to settle the jumble of thoughts in her mind; on one hand, the girl had proposed a rather apt and logical explanation, to which she had little to counter with. On the other, she did much adore nature and its makings, including the creatures - she still ate meat of course, but not without pensive thought concerning the treatment of the animals. It was a complicated way to live life but she could not help the feeling that arose when she thought of animals slaughtered, such as the image that came to mind with this rabbit.

"It does seem cruel in some ways, I suppose, is what I'm saying." Chiharu's normal composure was returning, transforming her back into the unusual, good-natured Miatorian who did not want to press her views upon another, but at the same time, disliked that a life had been taken here. "A life nearing its end is one thing, but a life cut short...Can you say that that potential for life has not gone to waste?" Despite herself, she had drawn a few steps closer, her innate curiosity and desire to resolve things getting the better of her.

Darla found herself disappointed when the nature-girl didn't shout or debase her. She could not understand why,but she found herself so dearly desiring to anger this girl and make her look the part of the fool for it. While the kimino girl did cut off her previous chances to verbally jab at her, Darla found that her new explanations were no less viable to be prepped, loaded, and fired- no different from a .45 loaded in a Magnum that was aimed for a person's head. The fact that the nameless girl had yet to run or physically lash at her was good. This gave her more time to decipher her feelings while still giving a good lecture that, she believed, would cause emotional turmoil in the girl.

“It's amusing that you bring up innocence. Truthfully, such a quality is only found in an existence with a higher intelligence. What is a rabbit? A rabbit is a creature that acts on baser instincts. Food. Sleep. Copulation. The last of the three it does plenty of. It does not consider its actions. And, if left hungry enough, it would gladly eat living flesh to sustain itself. Such is its level of intellect. In others, a rabbit can neither be guilty or innocent- it does not consider its actions or motivations, and, as such, has no moral whiplash upon which to derive feelings.” Darla paused only for a moment. Half to let her words sink in, half to shift gears to a new line of progression. By that point, her hands had begun moving again, carefully working on one of the hind legs, opening it up slowly.

“In regards to cruelty, I'd like you to take a moment and consider the flow of nature. Nature is not entirely beautiful. Nature is not entirely safe. Given a chance, nature would overrun and consume humanity. That said, a rabbit is a part of that equation, so lets observe natural causes of death, inflicted and suffered by nature. The snake bites a rabbit and inject its with venom. Some venoms don't kill. They paralyze. Your rabbit would slowly burn to death in the snake's stomach acid. The owl hunts a rabbit and snatches it from the ground, cruelly clawing into it and ripping it apart with its beak. Even nature would snare a rabbit and allow it to starve to death, a slow and painful death.”

“In every one of these cases, the rabbit is not fully utilized. Yet, I gave it a swift death. It feared not in its last moments- I knew not of my intents. It died peacefully and without pain. And unlike pleasure seeking murderers, and similarly unlikely the rabid beasts of the earth itself, I intend to utilize every part of this animal. If anything, I gave this animal more mercy than the nature that acts as its mother. I gave it more love than the creatures that would gladly consume it without a thought of appreciation. Furthermore, I gave it a purpose greater than simply 'being food', as such would ultimately be its fate one day.” A second logical round had been fired. Her chamber still had one more, though, and the gunpowder in her head was ready to let it loose. Perhaps it was an innocent desire to regurgitate information. Perhaps it was a desire to convert a person's beliefs. Or perhaps it was simply a desire to crush this person. She did not know. She wanted to know. But, at the root of things, she did not care which drove her- she simply wanted to know which.

“Tell me, miss. Do you eat eggs? You speak of potential for life, but consider what an egg is. An egg is the cradle of life for some lifeforms. The fish. The bird. The reptile. As well as several others, these creatures give their urges to multiply the form of eggs that carry their young. If you consume an egg, then you're suggesting that, in line with your argument, that you're wasting potential for life far greater than killing a grown rabbit. Nay, you're slaying infants that have yet to be born- an egg-equivalent of abortion. One might argue that the egg is not fertilized, and that this argument is invalid. But you know it to be true, do you not? On top of that, the average human being- and we'll narrow it down to just Japanese for sake of brevity- consumes various eggs, fish, land animals like chicken, cow, or pig, as well as various others dependent upon the cook or the location in which they order food. Farm animals are much worse, don't you believe? They're breed, fed, and slaughtered all for the sake of being food. There is no remorse or concern for these animals. They're money waiting to be made.”

“Ultimately, back to rabbits, the most potential this creature has is limiting the food supply for other animals in the area, as well as multiplying and drawing numerous other youths of the same sort into this world- more beings that desire simply to eat, sleep, and screw with the nearest willing creature. Notice, I said 'willing creature'. A fun fact about rabbits is that they do not necessarily copulate with intentions of multiplying. They are, actually, bisexual, and will perform acts of sexual gratification with other rabbits, regardless of gender. Back to the point, removing one rabbit inhibits their growth as a population, which, in turn, helps preserve the food in the area for other rabbits, or other creatures. It's no different from nature's own activities, and it helps preserve the ecosystem in these woods.” She was exceedingly pleased. She was confident that, whatever this girl argued, she could, in some way or another, completely and utterly rip it apart with her knowledge and logic. Even if the other was unaware or immune to the viciousness, her progression on each statement made her almost giddy on the inside. These feelings, while not necessarily alien to her, were rare and did not usually stem out from what she considered to be an argument. Part of why their exact cause still escaped her.

By then, despite having been giving a veritable lecture on her actions and the various bits of how it helped things in the long run, she had already removed most of the muscular tissue from the leg, working on the bones by that point. Actually, her movements were mechanical by that point, as if her body was moving on auto while her mouth acted on its own, giving its spiel. She'd never held a conversation while performing her work before, but, like anybody that had taken up a craft, she supposed that this was a natural result of practice and skill.

Well this was certainly...different. Each point she brought up was being looked it, picked apart and then countered in each little detail, all through logical analysis and facts pouring out as if the person before her was some kind of encyclopaedia. Despite her attempt to remain otherwise, this situation was quickly becoming fascinating. Morbidly so, but still. She was right, however; from anything but a theistic view (and even then, there were issues such as the dominion raised prior) innocence was really nebulous and at best, could only apply to those who could actually have morals, such as humans. So too, was the brunette right about nature's harsh reality, as much as Chiharu was aware of the brilliance and majesty of it. Everything seemed to have a dual nature at the least. It was...saddening, to think that way, but much more pragmatic.

Before she could chime back in, a question was posed, to which she shook her head - she actually didn't eat eggs, for much of the reasons raised. Admittedly, the silverette was aware of the farm animal area, and it was something that played heavily within her still developing system of beliefs, still changing as her understanding of the world changed. As it was now. The tidbit about lapin sexuality was somewhat tangential but still an interesting side-note to keep tucked away.

"I...cannot argue with that. A swift, painless death is indeed much less suffering than a lot of other ends within nature. Although I have to wonder, is less suffering indeed better? Perhaps there can be some form of development through experiencing suffering, after all. It would not necessarily apply to all species though, I suppose. Anyway," Taking a small breath, the silverette found, much to her surprise, that the revulsion and morbidity of the situation was quickly falling away. This person certainly had a way with words, at least from a rational view point. "I have no right to admonish you, unless of course something of this was prohibited legally, though I am doubting it is so. There is no...malicious intent, given your explanation. It's just rather shocking to witness, but perhaps that's a lesson I needed to learn through experience."

The faintest hint of a smile graced her features, her composure having returned for the most part. It seemed while they had been conversing, the brunette had continued working with expert skill. "Pardon my rudeness, on both accounts. I am Chiharu Aohana." With a small curtsey, the Miatorian found herself unfrozen and with only a few moments' consideration, she came much closer, kneeling in the snow to observe the girl's work with an unbiased curiosity. If anything, at least this kept her as distracted as she'd hoped to be on her walk.

The girl drew closer, speaking further. Her reasoning had seemingly died. In other words, Darla's means to entertain herself were dwindling and fading like a snowball in the depths of hell, if not quicker. Her reasoning was being supported. In other words, she had effectively converted the kimono girl. Upon coming to that conclusion, her interest really had disappeared. In other words, her merciless hounding was not spurred on by a desire of creating a like-minded individual. No, if anything, it was a very unfortunate and otherwise unintended side effect. She found herself filled with dread. Lethargy. She was sleepy due to a lack of interest. Sleepy enough she would not mind just stopping everything and laying down, embracing a cold sleep and dreaming forever.

Proximity came, as did an apology and a name. Chiharu's presence did little to stop Darla's movements, at least until she finished with the leg, withdrawing her tools and hands before setting the files down and pressing her hands to the snow, somewhat to clean them. For a moment, she was silent. It seemed that her lack of interest had adversely affected the speed of her thoughts. Or, rather, now that she was depressed, she did not feel motivated to think as quickly. That really was sad.

“Now you sound like an author that justifies sadistic activity towards their creations, claiming it was for the sake of character development. While suffering can produce a degree of refinement in an individual- much like heat and pressure creating a diamond from filth- it is, by no means, something that produces the same results in all sentient beings. That said, such would only apply to humans. Humans, however, are not as functionally similar as any two rocks. Quite the contrary. Humans have differing levels of stress resistance. What will not phase one, may bend the other. The one that bends may recover, while another that bends may warp. Finally, it may even break the individual.” She paused. And then she thought about herself. The fact that she was drawing a similarity to herself disgusted her.

“Writers that utilize this method of development are often either sadists, or they, themselves, are broken in some manner, depressed, or have gone through it themselves. Similarly often, those that support this logic suffer from the same condition or conditions.” That was her final jab unless Chiharu granted her something interesting enough to respond to. Otherwise, it was just tire her further. Her depression had grown to the point that she was undeniably aware of the numbness and chill in her legs.

Slowly, she turned her neck, looking up. Her expression was unreadable. Not because it was neutral, but because it was simply empty. Even her eyes lacked life at that point. “Tsuriya Darla.” She noted, responding to the introduction with her own. “Saint Miator student, fourth year.” She cut off the need to answer the likely-next topic. Her gaze slowly filtered down, back to the rabbit. Roger deserved the attention she had been giving her before. But Darla simply could not muster the interest. If she did truly run her body of auto, if she did truly shut her mind off, that would be dangerous. Yet she needed to continue to prevent any unnecessary questioning.

Slowly, her still-bloody hands reached for the scalpel again. The chill was starting to affect her more seriously. It crept from her lower legs to her thighs, then her waist. She really was cold. And partially because she simply didn't care at that point, she left her sleeves rolled up. Even if Chiharu saw the numerous scars over her arms, what would she do? No, rather, what could she do?

"I did not mean it to be so simple, no. Blanket suffering does little to improve; but suffering can give way to growth, in some cases, depending on the degree of suffering for as you've said, people are different." No need to convolute a point they agreed upon - in fact, as soon as she'd started seeing things from the other's point of view, or more adequately put, once Chiharu's own system of thought adapted to new information and she was 'converted', so to speak. For now anyway; she was constantly changing, like the wind as it passed over different surfaces.

The silverette was following well enough to be aware that she was being jabbed at, but it did not bother her - she was far to used to it, and to be perfectly honest, in some ways the assertion was correct. Not that she would admit that aloud in present company; their interaction so far pointed towards the brunette being quite willing to appropriate such information for her own uses - if something could come of the admission anyway.

Introductions were short, as much as she expected, but it was important to the dancer that she maintain a courteous disposition. "A fifth year, of the same school." Short and concise as Chiharu's attention was being drawn away from exactly what they were saying, to the figure of the girl in front of her and what she was working on. The sight of blood still repulsed her somewhat, but not anywhere near as much now that she entertained a different light over the situation. However, azure orbs hovered over the girl's arms as she worked, recognising the pattern of scars over the skin, increasing in frequency towards the wrists. Oh dear, that was not a good sign. Somewhere, deep down, the normal instinct to help tried to rear its head, but the logical part of the silverette pushed it back down - she honestly doubted there was any way she would be of help. Especially given how she had been latel- Damnit, she'd started thinking about it again!

Mentally shaking that line of thinking far, far away, Chiharu's attention shifted again, now to the quickly encroaching coldness spreading through her legs. If she stayed like this for much longer, they'd probably go numb. She needed to move, get the blood flowing again. Speaking of which.. "Are you not quite cold by now? Surely your limbs would be nearing on numb if not already..." She did know an excellent way for getting the blood flowing again, after all.

The scalpel made an exceedingly quick, though obviously measured, cut from the base of the other hind limb to the paw. Where she had been taking her time before, she was speeding the process along. She could still manage the same level of quality as before, though- of that, she had some degree of surety. Swapping the scalpel to her other hand, she retrieved a pair of tweezers, beginning a process of cutting the connections between muscular tissues and carefully removing each major chunk of meat. Though the process was roughly the same as before, the speed was three, maybe four, times what it had been prior.

She needed to finish before the chill caused her to shake. If that occurred, then she would not be able to finish her work. And, likely enough, by the time she would have recovered, beasts would have come to consume the remains of Roger, anyway. Words fluttered from Chiharu's mouth to Darla's ears. Was it an observation? Was her body shaking? Or was it a simple guess based on the cold? Darla did not want to stop to observe herself. She imagined it was the last of the three, anyway. As if in response, she opened her mouth, letting out a steamy sigh. It was not to voice her displeasure in the question, but to illuminate the folly of such a question. Her sigh was long, and the trails of steam that flew up either side of her face should have given plenty of an answer. It did feel nice on her cheeks, though.

The meat was removed. Next came the bones. Scalpel and tweezers went down. Bone file came up. Sawing began.

“The cold will not kill me yet.” Came the first response. “Even if it would, I have work to complete. So long as I finish before my hands shake, things will be fine. Otherwise, this effort will have been a waste of my time.” Effort, to others, may have only included the physical trials one went through. For Darla, though, she meant both the physical act of taking care of the rabbit as well as the mental and emotional act of dealing with Chiharu. Prior, she would have been fine. After that unceremonious submission to her opinions, though, simply talking with the girl was trying. It would not have been so if they had never argued before, though. It was similar to how a child's emotions would be if they were excited, only to have their expectations, hopes, and dreams mercilessly shattered. They would be worse off that way than they would if they had never had the hope to begin with- and that was where Darla was now.

“One would think that someone dressed as yourself would have more an issue with the cold than I. Going by the bulk of your figure, I think it is safe to assume that you're not wearing thick fabrics underneath that kimono. You're likely the colder of the two of us, despite the fact that you're standing.” A shift of attention. Her words were mostly just that, though. She doubted a person that was standing, with full circulation going down her legs, would honestly be colder or worse off than herself. After all, her legs were pressed to the ground, and she was sitting on them on top of that. She was no martial artist. Her body was not exactly used to seiza. The circulation to her lower legs was crippled in that pincer strike between stance and cold.

“Regardless, if that was a subtle attempt to request that I stop, then I refuse. There's nothing I can do to fix this problem aside from stepping inside. The effort would be too great without me finishing this. And I can't finish while stretching my legs out, trying to bring feeling back to them.” Had frustration shown in her voice? She was not entirely certain. She felt the embers of annoyance beginning to burn inside her for some reason. Was it Chiharu and her question, or was it the fact that she reported to her? Or was it just her own situation? She hated her curiosity at times. At others, she hated her condition, her “genius”, because it caused her to be so estranged. She acknowledged that what was simple to others was exceedingly complex to her. Likewise, what was simple to her was no different than a conundrum on existential proportions for the average individual her age. Or one twenty years older.

She was moving quickly, very quickly. Or her hands were, anyway; she'd sped up her process. Even though the silverette had only witnessed a small portion of the work beforehand, she could tell that much. Yet, there was still a significant amount of precision, as near as she could tell. Darla was certainly skilled at this, and it made her briefly wonder how many times she had done this before. Darned morbid curiosity.

Cut off before she could comment on the first answer, the dancer found her comment would be irrelevant anyway as the brunette was determined to finish, well aware of the effects of the cold creeping in. To be fair, it would be a waste of time and effort, but even so, there was only so much abuse the body would take. One of the reasons she didn't want to languish too much, staying too still and letting her circulation diminish. Mind you, the observation made by the brunette caused her to giggle softly. "You would likely be right. It is not particularly warming, when staying still anyway. Least of all when kneeling like I am right now." She did seem to be taller, and the other was distracted with her work, so perhaps that was why she'd made the mistake there.

Shaking her head lightly about the request to stop, Chiharu's gaze shifted back from the work to Darla herself, a bit of concern creeping into her expression. If she was determined to remain in the cold to finish, then the silverette would stay to make sure she didn't pass out or some such. That being said, she really did need to start moving again; she couldn't feel most of her legs at this point. Getting to her feet and lightly brushing off the snow from her skin, the elder Miatorian intuitively began to twirl, swaying a little as she began an impromptu dance, albeit one that wouldn't take her too far from where she'd been kneeling, so that she could keep an eye on Darla.

Darla only faintly acknowledged the words that came from Chiharu at that point. Her mind was sluggish because she wanted to sleep. With what synapses she could muster, though, she altered her intended course with the final stages of Roger's completion. The body, below the front limbs and head, was entirely empty. Cleaning still needed to be done, of course, but the fact that she'd done all of that while on the ground with only her kit said something. Bad things, but they were things.

She'd likely have to wait on the head for later. Her body would likely fail her if she worked on that part as things were- the head was too time-consuming, and the distractions, combined with her current lack of drive, only reinforced that prediction. Taking the scalpel again, she made quick jabs directed at both of the front limbs. They were reckless, but, due to the angle, they split the limbs open cleanly. With the tweezers in her other hand, she proceeded at that same pace from before, plucking the meat from both limbs rather than swapping to the bones- she would save the dual-limb bone removal for last.

But her senses did not entirely block out the sounds of the snow crunching. Chiharu was moving. Going by the rhythm, it was something similar to a dance. Really? Was this weak-willed girl- this weak-willed, older girl dancing in the snow? Were she not pressed for time or concentration, she really would have commented. And it was just as that thought occurred to her that she realized she managed to remove the remaining meat. The need for concentration dropped as she swapped tools for the file once more.

“This is only a guess based on the sounds of the snow, but are you dancing?” Her tone was not curious. It was incredulous. She, for a moment not even lasting a second, tried to determine a reason for it before remembering the complaints about growing cold. Even so. Dancing? Why not just walk? Why not run? Actually, the continued presence did raise an entirely different question. “Actually, more importantly, why do you linger? Your interest has certainly dwindled by now, yes?” She was applying her own logic to another person. If it were Darla, she would have left by now. Certainly, other people were different, but she could not comprehend how her actions could inspire one's continued interest- especially when they were drifting about aimlessly.

It wasn't like the kimono girl was giving her undivided attention. So, really. Why was she lingering?

Ahhh, that was definitely working; she could feel the tingling sensation coming back to her legs now, along with the warmth of her blood flow. Of course, it likely looked weird, or at least highly unusual, given the circumstances and the fact that she wasn't moving very far from the same central spot. She needed no external music for this, as there was rhythm enough inside of her, most likely a result of her constant dancing.

Of course, Chiharu was still making an effort to keep an eye on the brunette, since that was for the most part, her reason for still being here. That being said, she was still at least partially intrigued by the meticulous process through which Darla transformed the rabbit into something quite different. However, she was still getting accustomed to the sight of blood and exposed flesh, so she did not look too closely, too often.

The questions asked didn't stop her from moving, though she slowed slightly to answer. "Indeed, I am. I linger because, well, to be perfectly honest I wish to make sure that you do not pass out or something of the like. Though I am still a tad intrigued to see how this turns out." Smiling faintly, the silverette continued to dance, her azure gaze still coming to rest on Darla and the rabbit periodically.

So, going by Chiharu's answer, it seemed that the girl thought herself capable of helping her, should something bad occur. That was all well and good, but Darla had no intentions of leaving herself in that situation- of going down into that shape, or allowing herself to owe another person. She had never been in debt- at least, not in the sense that could be reasonably repaid, as she was, technically in debt to her foster family- but, while it was an alien experience, she had little desire to be restrained by the whims or wishes of another like that.

Another long sigh escaped her lips. She was annoyed on top of tired. Rather that sawing, the file became an effective bone-breaker at that point, as she applied regulated amounts of force onto each major junction of the bones. This would probably be her last effort to find animals until spring. And then, she'd probably look to find a new location entirely. The Spican forest was no longer sacred, it seemed. That became the verdict as she started pulling the broken bones away.

“I can assure you, I have no intentions of dying right now.” If not for the fact that it was a stranger, she would have pointed out that dying was boring by that point. But, even so, the way she phrased it probably could be misconstrued. She was too annoyed to clarify it, though. “Though I can't say I understand what it is you want to see. The meat has been removed. The bones are being removed. All that remains is cleaning the contents of the head, and that's not happening here.” To have that much of her craft watched by another was. . . disconcerting? She had no wish to have someone watching over her as she performed the other steps.

She wrapped the canvas with the meat, then tied it. The previously organized meat was just pressed together into a ball of flesh, hidden by the canvas. Similar treatment was given to the bones. A small bottle with an antiseptic solution was pulled out and used in conjunction with the clean canvas- first for her hands, then for her tools. The sensation of the chilly air on her damp hands was almost painful. Tools were slowly relocated into her small kit. Another canvas was taken out before the kit was sealed, and she carefully folded it around the rabbit. All that remained at that point was getting up and leaving.

. . . which would probably take a while. She shifted slowly to draw her legs from under her. She pulled her sleeves back down, then proceeded to grope at her thighs, then lower legs. Sensation still prevailed in the upper reaches. It was the lower area that had the issues.

Well, at least there was that - she didn't have to worry about the girl just giving up and letting the cold take over. Not that that was a huge worry in the first place, but it was one less thing overall still. Her dance slowed to a stop as she refocused on the brunette, tilting her head slightly in an inquisitive manner. "Understanding what goes on and how it transforms from one state to another is still a learning experience. I take it, however, that it would be imposing upon you to request watching this progress all the way through, so I shall refrain." Perhaps it would be smarter to keep quiet, but Chiharu had never been able to stop her honesty really. Even if it meant depreciating herself, she would talk aloud her thoughts to an extent.

Still, she was not about to leave; her reason remained valid in her mind if not in practice. The silverette would ensure that Darla returned without an issue, even if it would be a mild bother to the girl - that was just how she was. Speaking of which, her azure gaze fell upon the slowly shifting form of the brunette who was packing up and making a move to leave, or so it seemed. It dawned upon her a few moments later that the groping of her legs was to measure or regain the feeling in them.

Despite knowing she would probably receive a negative reply, Chiharu still made an offer to help. "Are you alright? Do you need any help getting up again?"

Note: Couldn't really get much else out, sorry. If it's an issue, let me know.

Hearing a person display some interest for her work left her feeling a bit conflicted. Not between good and bad sensations, but in the sense that she could not determine if she felt annoyed or depressed. On the one hand, she felt somewhat violated- probably in the way a normal girl felt when her bare body was on display for someone that had zero business seeing the sight. On the other, she felt a thick gloom over herself, probably what a normal person felt when they found their beloved pet dead.

And Darla could not decide which sensation was stronger. Or the underlying reasons for either. The direct cause, of course, was Chiharu. A cough escaped her lips, steam billowing as she shifted about, and she drew her legs under herself in an awkward squat. She mulled over her emotions for a moment before slowly shaking her head. An offer of assistance was unnecessary. Getting up would not be a problem. Staying up would. She let another breath out through her mouth before pursing her lips together.

“I'm fine. It just takes time.” She responded, eyes directed to the snow some feet away in front of her. The offer was really more a bother than not. For some reason, it only bothered her more. She could not determine exactly why. While contemplating, she struggled to rise. Her lower legs buckled, and her bottom collided with the snow. A second and third effort repeated the failure. Sensations gradually returned, though. Not enough to be of use yet, but enough that her brute force method of breaking the ice would work eventually. A fourth and fifth attempt soon followed, mind gradually speeding up as her thoughts focused specifically on her own emotions.

Like a child with a puzzle, she went through the various stimuli she'd experienced since the appearance of Chiharu. Her method of organizing the data was no different than her strategic diffusion of the silver-haired girl's oppositions. Still repeating the physical motions as she dissected their exchange, from point to point, she turned her gaze to meet Chiharu. And she felt her annoyance growing. Just looking at her seriously bothered her. And then something in her head clicked. She blinked. Her body stopped moving while her gaze focused on the other girl.

And then, her eyes went wide.

Utilizing media to draw up similarities, she realized what spurred on her animosity. Dissecting and toying with the dignity of animals was a special thing for Darla- or it used to be, as it was as close to outright murder as she could legally get. It had become routine, but she continued to do it just to do it. It was her special past time, or quirk. It was a secret. A normal girl might have enjoyed picking her nose, watching some strange, niche, or socially questionable series, masturbating, or baking despite having an otherwise masculine outer appearance and personality. And then Chiharu appeared and discovered her secret. Her animosity was her retaliation- verbal whiplash rather than panic or physical outbursts. Chiharu discovered it. More than that, she accepted it once it was logicized. Translating that to a normal situation, that was acceptance of a forbidden or embarrassing secret. In other words, Chiharu accepted that socially questionable pastime of hers.

Discovery and acceptance. They were typical and cliché plot devices in stories, and, yet, they just occurred in reality. It was not staged. It was purely coincidental. And it occurred to her. Darla managed to understand what it was that had driven her. And it interested her greatly. It was new. Better than when she was verbally whipping out at Chiharu, really. Her heart had even skipped a beat. That was what it was. She had not felt it when she gave her body to men. Nor did she feel it when others saw her scars. Even her falsified bad greats did not inspire the emotion she had finally identified.

It was embarrassment.

Seconds had passed. She remained as still as an ice sculpture. Gradually, her eyes reverted. The epiphany had worn off. Her discovery was valid, though. And the emotion prevailed. Chiharu had discovered her secret, and, through Darla's arguments, had gone so far as accepting the secret. It was her own brand of embarrassment. That was interesting. Immensely. Slowly, her lips curled into a slight smile. A quiet “Huhu” escaped her lips before her gaze slowly redirected itself towards the snow before her. “That's interesting.” She noted more to herself than to Chiharu, becoming distinctively aware of the warmth in her cheeks. Was it that her embarrassment was tangible? Or had the cold finally caused her body to react? A different mystery for a different time.

She tried standing once more. Another, then a third attempt. Each was a failure, but her legs had some semblance of feeling now. Another few tries and half-stumbling would be possible.

“Do as you wish. Should your desires lay with observing my macabre art, then indulge yourself until your heart is content. Who am I to inhibit another's drive to satiate their interests or desires?” And that was her acceptance. Her admission for Chiharu to partake in her secret. Self-discovery came about in the most unexpected form at the least of likely times. Fatigue no longer plagued her, either. Her mind was back into its prime.

“Of course, I take no degree of responsibility for the knowledge you attain. Nor will I claim to share the guilt of your sin of knowledge seeking. The fruit is there, hanging before you. You've admitted your temptation. Whether you partake in it or not, ultimately, is your decision.” Grandiose was the only fitting description. She had likened her sharing of the macabre to the act of the serpent tempting Eve with the fruit of Knowledge. Was it sacrilege? Was it wrong? Was it ridiculous? Perhaps, to each, the answer was a yes. She cared not, though. She was pleased. She'd felt something new. She understood herself better.

While it did not change her opinion of Chiharu too greatly, she was, at the very least, grateful.