"My lord," Raynare says, "could you please repeat yourself? Because it sounded like you just ordered me to babysit a teenaged boy."

Azazel, Lord of the Grigori, and one of the most powerful entities in existence, pouts like a schoolgirl.

"I told you, Raynare, he has a Sacred Gear. If it awakens while he's still human, the results could be catastrophic."

"So what?" she asks. "One tiny, pathetic mortal kills a whole bunch of other tiny, pathetic mortals, and in another city it's Tuesday. If you want to study his Sacred Gear so badly, why not order me to seduce him and bring him here?"

Raynare shrugs, and the smooth arch of her shoulders would have brought a lesser man to his knees. Even for a Fallen Angel, she is beautiful. Azazel does not even notice. He regards his subordinates as somewhere between siblings and children, as much as some of them might wish otherwise.

"Honestly, you wouldn't even have to bother with that. Send someone like Dohnaseek to abduct him, or hire one of the human gangs to do it. That solves all our problems: it gets you your Sacred Gear, and it doesn't waste my time."

"Raynare," Azazel says, and she stiffens, because there is just the slightest hint of displeasure in his tone. He is not a violent master, nor a strict one, but Raynare fears his disappointment more than she does death itself. "You need to stop doing that. If I wanted his Sacred Gear, I would have told you. If I wanted you to seduce him, I would have made that clear. If I wanted him abducted, I would be talking to someone else."

Azazel sighs. It's little more than an expulsion of air, but it still manages to strike Raynare like a punch to the gut.

"Look," he says, not unkindly, "I know you want to impress me. I even know why. I was old before God spun you from starlight and the aether. You can no more hide your thoughts from my eyes than you can return to Heaven."

Raynare flushes, and looks away.

It is not an expression that should ever be seen on the face of a creature like her. Raynare is a Fallen Angel, a millennia-old supernatural existence once forged in the image of God Almighty. The slightest curve of her body suggests a seduction greater and more passionate than any human could imagine: and Raynare has a great many curves indeed.

She should not look like a woman on the verge of tears; a woman whose heart is the process of being torn to pieces.

Azazel reaches out, and places a hand on her shoulder. It is kind, and gentle, and not at all the way she wants him to touch her.

"I don't love you the way you want me to, Raynare. I value you as a subordinate and a person, but not as a lover. Not because you are not worthy of it, but because, well…"

He shrugs, and looks almost sheepish.

"You know why I fell, don't you?"

She does; she has simply become very good at ignoring it. When an angel is born, they are granted a purpose. It is a truth burned into their soul, the literal reason for their existence. A cosmic imperative that governs their words, their thoughts, and their deeds.

In many ways, an angel is little more than a creature of obsession.

That does not change when they fall. Even as the act of rebelling against God taints them with irredeemable sin, stains their wings black and casts them from Heaven, they do not lose their sense of purpose. It simply shifts focus.

Azazel fell for lust, and that is now what rules him. Not just for women, but for knowledge, and everything that comes along with it. He has shaped the entire progression of human society: it was the Grigori under his direction that first taught the races of men about warfare, weaponry, and magic.

It is not a secret that the fastest advances in science usually come through conflict – when there is a great and pressing need for as many breakthroughs as possible. Azazel knows this, which is why he introduced it to humanity on the broadest scale possible.

Azazel wants to know, and it is only recently, with the experience of another two or three thousand years living amongst the mortal races, that he has realised how much of a monster that has made him.

But that is not the reason he cannot love Raynare. He is a creature of pleasure beyond all else, and if Azazel thought she would please him, he would take her. Not violently, not unwillingly, but in the end, she would be his. There are very few forces on this Earth—or even below or above it—that could deny Azazel something he truly wanted.

The problem is that Raynare loves him. Azazel does not have time for love. There are too many things to learn, too many women to settle for only one. He has had a hundred harems in his lifetime—probably more, in fact—but all of those were formed entirely based on lust, and populated mostly by humans who would only be beautiful enough for a couple of decades (it is a cruel and callous truth, but a truth nonetheless).

Raynare is a Fallen Angel; she will not die except through violence, and it is not in Azazel to be faithful for eternity.

"Loving me will only ever bring you pain, Raynare," he says. His words echo through the air with the sort of certainty that only ever comes from experience. "It's not worth it."

For a moment, she looks defiant, but then the fight slips out of her like the tears sliding down her porcelain cheeks. Raynare turns to leave, to get out, get away, but Azazel's hand is still clamped on her shoulder. She can no more resist his strength than she can lift a mountain.

"I know it hurts."

Azazel's voice is gentle, and it makes her want to scream. He has never known a love like this – how can he possibly understand how she can barely breathe under the weight of her grief? How can he understand the way her limbs feel as fragile as glass, like she will shatter if she has to spend one more moment in the face of this humiliation?

"I can see it in your eyes," Azazel says softly, like she is a wild animal he does not wish to startle. "This had to happen, Raynare. You have been far too reckless lately in your attempts to gain my favour. I do not want that; not only because it endangers our Faction as a whole, but because it endangers you. All I want is the loyal, dedicated Raynare who was one of my most-trusted subordinates."

It is blatant manipulation, and in that moment she hates him for it.

"Is that all I am to you? Just another minion under your command?" Raynare is a woman scorned, and the fires of Hell would have been a welcome reprieve from the heat of her voice.

"Yes," comes the blunt reply, and Raynare flinches as if struck. "You are a Fallen Angel, a member of the Grigori, and that means you answer to me. I know it is cruel, but that is the truth."

His next words are far less harsh; they match the tone he speaks them in.

"But do not think I do not care for you. I care for all those who march beneath my banner. You are the family I have chosen to call my own, and that means more to me than you probably understand. I do not like seeing you in pain, Raynare, especially when I am the cause. It is simply that it would be far crueller to leave you be, to wait until you end up killing yourself in some fruitless attempt to impress me.

"You do not need to waste your life like that, Raynare. You impress me most when you are the woman I can trust to do what I need done. I am not telling you not to love: my sort of callousness is not in your nature. You will always love more deeply and thoroughly than I am capable of comprehending.

"Just… try and pick somebody else."

"It doesn't work like that," Raynare says. Her voice sounds like heartbreak.

"I know," is Azazel's reply, "but I have nothing else to offer you. I can't give you what you want, and my only other solution is something even Samael would have scorned."

"What is it?" Surely, Raynare thinks, surely anything would be better than having to live like this; than having to wake up in the morning and know that you Fell for nothing at all.

"I could tear out every last fragment of your love for me, raping your mind and soul in the process. If the slightest thing went wrong, you would end up somewhere between an emotionless robot and a drooling cripple. That is, of course, if you even survived the process in the first place."

Raynare's horror must have shown on her face, because Azazel is quick to speak again.

"I have learned a great many things over the course of my life. Some of them I wish I could forget."

He is lying, though Raynare will never know. Knowledge is knowledge, and Azazel will never regret obtaining it, regardless of how monstrous the applications might be. After all, a few hundred years ago, a ritual originally designed for trapping an enemy's soul in an eternity of torture turned out to be the necessary base for creating an artificial Sacred Gear.

"We both know that is not an option," Azazel says, squeezing her shoulder almost awkwardly before finally removing his hand, "so all that is left is for you to, well, get over me. Take as much time as you need; I can find someone else for this mission."

"No." Raynare's head is bowed, and her body is shaking, but her voice is terrifyingly steady. She could have been talking about the weather. "I'll do it."

When she looks up, the tremulous corners of her smile cut him like a blade.

"I might as well be good for something, right?"

This time, as she turns to leave, Azazel makes no move to stop her.

Later, when the reports filter in about Raynare's room having been utterly trashed, with parts of the floor melted to slag and fist-shaped holes punched through the wall, he simply shrugs and tells them that he'll get somebody to fix it later.

When the woman who calls herself Amano Yuuma steps through the gateway of Kuoh Academy, she can feel the wards slide across her skin. This is the heart of Gremory-Sitri alliance's territory on the mortal plane, and they would not have left it undefended even if it wasn't home to two of the Satan's little sisters.

Raynare has no illusions that they do not know she is here. Had it been anyone else calling this place home, she might have been able to fool them. She is an infiltrator, a spy, and a seductress, and that has been her chosen role for two millennia. If Rias Gremory and Sona Sitri had not been tied so closely to the Maou, she could have walked right past them and they'd never have known she was a Fallen Angel.

Raynare is very, very good at her job. There have been times where she has held deep cover for longer than the Gremory and Sitri heirs have been alive - combined. But that does not matter; not when she would be trying to sneak past barriers cast by the Leviathan herself. That is the reason she is not trying to sneak at all. This close to something so precious to entities like Sirzechs Lucifer and Serafall Leviathan, Raynare's only hope of survival is to make it very clear she is not a threat.

It is not the first time she has been forced to play that role, either.

Less than five minutes after she has signed herself in at the front office—spinning a story to the receptionist about absent, hardworking parents and how they trusted her to take care of herself—a call comes over the PA. It seems Amano Yuuma is required in the president's office. Something about easing her introduction to the school.

Raynare chuckles. It is remarkably unsubtle, but, impressive pedigree or not, she is still dealing with teenagers. They will always be impatient. And, in their defence, this close to the seat of their power, they do not have to be subtle. There are two full peerages on this campus, and only one of her. Raynare is not mighty; she does not bleed power, slipping from her skin like smoke. Not like Azazel, or even Kokabiel.

She has always been more of a lover than a fighter, and within a ward schema like this, the facts will be patently obvious: she is not dangerous. Oh, one-on-one, she could probably take any of her potential opponents. She does, after all, have literally thousands of years of experience over them.

But she does not have the strength to level a city to ash, and that is what she would need to win the fight she is trying so hard to avoid.

She makes her way through the halls, noting the—rather incompetent, really—attempts to stalk her, both by some of the Heirs' peerage members and a few obvious perverts. Including, it seems, the boy Raynare is here to supervise. Wonderful.

It is not that Raynare has any particular problem with perversion. She is, after all, a Fallen Angel, and beyond that, she was—is—in love with Azazel. She had no illusions that a blushing virgin would have anything to offer him that he had not already sampled a thousand times before. No; some of the things Raynare has done and enjoyed are not even physically possible for a human being.

But she has no interest in being appreciated, even at a distance, by stupid little boys. She is beautiful, and she knows it. Raynare is stunning even by the standards of a race that go out of their way to make sure of the fact. It is a weapon she wields better than any other. She does not need the hormonal affection of a teenager to tell her that.

Eventually, she reaches the door to the President's office, which is guarded on either side by two Devils who would look intimidating if weren't for the fact they were still in their school uniforms. They open the door as she arrives, and the boy's fingers flex, as if wrapping around the hilt of an invisible sword. Raynare ignores him entirely. She is not in the mood to be threatened by children.

Inside the office sit Rias Gremory and Sona Sitri, flanked by their respective Queens. It is an impressive display of solidarity. And strength. There is enough power in this room to level it thrice over. More than enough to kill her in such close quarters, without a sky to escape into.

Raynare slides into the only available chair with the sort of languid grace that a man once described as basically everything he wanted out of life, and throws her feet up on Sona Sitri's desk. She could not look more at ease if she was being fanned and fed grapes by a harem of nubile young men.

"So, kaichou," she asks, the curl of her lips making a mockery of the title, "was there a problem with my enrolment?"

Impressively, the girl's reaction is little more than a tightening of her expression and a twitch of her hand. Her Queen is nowhere near as restrained; or, at least, her expression makes it quite clear that if Raynare does not remove her legs, they will be removed for her.

From her body entirely, if need be.

Gremory raises an eyebrow, and the black-haired Devil to her left laughs demurely behind her fingers. It does not fool Raynare in the slightest. This is a room a hairsbreadth from violence, held back only by curiosity. They do not know what a Fallen Angel is doing so deep within their territory, and they are intelligent enough to try and figure it out before they kill her.

"What are you doing here?" Sitri asks, recovering what little of her composure she lost in the first place. It is a blunt question, but then again Sona Sitri strikes Raynare as a blunt sort of person. They're expecting her to lie: that much is obvious.

It's cute that they think they'd be able to tell. Raynare has been lying for longer than Japan has been civilised. If a bunch of teenagers—supernatural or not—could see through her so easily, she would have died a long time ago. But, as it happens, she has no need for lies. They'd just make her job harder.

"Issei Hyoudou. Second-year student at Kuoh Academy, newly enrolled this semester. Apparently a pervert, if the fact he was stalking me through the halls meant anything. I'm sure you know all about him, considering his Sacred Gear is leaking as badly as his dignity."

Raynare shrugs, a motion far too sensual for the schoolgirl whose appearance she currently wears.

"Or maybe you don't. It doesn't matter to me. I'm just here because Azazel doesn't want him going crazy and slaughtering half this city before somebody puts him down."

"And you expect us to believe that?" This time, it is Gremory who asks the question.

"If I was here to recruit him, do you think I'd bother coming to your school? Look, girl, I've been doing this since before the Dark Ages. Give me five minutes and I could have him licking my boots clean while dressed in a maid outfit and singing the Spice Girls' Greatest Hits. I actually proposed a similar idea to Azazel, but he decided against it. Now that I've seen Hyoudou myself, well, you can imagine my disappointment."

"Say we believe you," says Sitri, and Raynare almost laughs at how serious she is, "about Hyoudou, and about your orders from Azazel. I still don't see why we should let you stay, or attend our school. We are aware of his Sacred Gear, and we have been watching him. There is no reason for your Faction to interfere."

"Do you know how many years we've been at war with one another?"

Raynare sighs. She is not a diplomat. Respect and politeness can go fuck themselves; she's no longer an Angel, and she doesn't want to be. The woman she has become is rude, arrogant, and free. Free to lust, free to love, and free to wear wool and linen in the same outfit. Why did she agree to do this in the first place?

Oh, right. Because Azazel broke her heart, and she still couldn't stop herself from trying to impress him.

"Of course you do. You're the heirs of the Gremory and Sitri clans. The respective little sisters of the two most famous Satans your race has ever known. You probably bleed politics and shit intrigue. Or try to, anyway. So ask yourselves: why would Azazel send me? I am, as you say, unnecessary."

There is a bitter twist to that last word that she cannot quite manage to hide.

"Don't bother answering," she says, "because I don't actually care what you think. Azazel wants peace. It's been thousands of years since the Great War, and we're still only shadows of what we once were. We used to be great. We used to have pride.

"Even a hundred years ago, I could have walked down the street of any human city you'd care to name, and they would have dropped to their knees and venerated me like I was God Himself. Now, they'd just take my photo with their phones and ask me who I was cosplaying as. As if any character their pitiful little minds could conjure would possibly compare to me.

"Azazel sent me because we will never come to an agreement if we don't have any reason to talk in the first place. You can watch me watching Hyoudou, and see that's all I'm doing. Then you can tell your siblings about it, and maybe they'll actually listen to Azazel the next time he proposes a conference to discuss peace between the Three Factions."

Raynare is lying, of course. Azazel only ever told her to watch Hyoudou. But it has been almost a week since he rejected her, and she's had nothing better to do over that time than think. She knows Azazel dreams of a world without violence. If she's honest, it's a dream she shares. Raynare likes being alive, and it's hard to stay that way if any minor conflict can potentially boil over into a full-scale war.

If the Three Factions ever fought one another again, Raynare would probably be one of the first to die. Her strongest light-spear can destroy half a wall; Azazel's would do the same to half a continent, and he is far weaker than some of the monsters that exist in this world.

It's not like she's planning it just for his attention. It's enlightened self-interest, really; war is always worst for the footsoldiers, and even if Raynare can fly, she still qualifies. The collateral damage from a no holds barred fight between beings on the level of Azazel and Kokabiel can annihilate armies; it happened before, in the War.

Raynare has hated God for a very long time, but she is still thankful that He decided her talents were best used as long-range artillery instead of for wing-to-wing combat. She would not have survived the chaos otherwise.

"That is an… interesting proposal," Sitri says, "but we will need some time to consider it. We will deliver our decision tomorrow; for now you may attend class. Do not approach Hyoudou - we will know."

Raynare shrugs easily, her acceptance a nonchalant thing. I obey because I feel like it, the motion says, not because you control me. By the tightening of the Sitri's Queen's fingers, the message is received loud and clear. Gremory and her Queen are far more boring by comparison - they seem mostly amused by her behaviour.

A pity, but Raynare will crack them eventually. She always does.

She slips her feet off the desk and stands.

"Thank you for your time, kaichou," Raynare says with a jaunty wave. She speaks with all the gushing giddiness of a schoolgirl meeting one of her idols. "I'll see you tomorrow!"

That got a reaction out of Gremory: another raised eyebrow. Has she never heard of acting? Sure, even disguised as a teenager, Raynare looks like somebody crossed sex kitten with Gabriel's slutty sister (as demeaning as the descriptions might be). It's not like Gremory—or Heaven forbid, her Queen—can talk. They're lucky they're Devils, or else they'd be needing a chiropractor by the time they turned twenty.

But if they think that means Raynare doesn't know how to be a teenager, well, they've got another thing coming. And not in the way Hyoudou would probably dream of.

She opens the door, ignoring the guards on the way out the same way she ignored them on the way in. Just before she's fully out of the room, Sitri calls out to her.

"Amano-san," the girl says, completely serious, "don't forget to pick up your schedule from the reception; I believe your first class is mathematics in Room 4-A. And remember: Kuoh Academy will not tolerate slackers. Education is important, and I will see no student, however temporary, waste theirs!"

Raynare is lucky she's moved far enough past the guards by the time Sitri finishes speaking that they can't see her face, because she is utterly nonplussed. And a little bit furious. For God's sake, she's older than the stones that make up this building. She needs an education as much as she needs a colonoscopy. Probably less.

Who does Sitri think she is?

...the little sister of Serafall Leviathan, She Who Froze The World, a literal Satan, and a woman so overprotective only a madman would think of speaking to Sitri without permission, most likely. Raynare has to remember that. She is walking a tightrope above quicksand and lava, except the tightrope is spiked. And on fire.

One wrong move, and she will be so thoroughly murdered that even her memory will no longer remain.

She collects her schedule from the office, noting absently that it doubles as a contract circle under the right circumstances—now that's clever—and makes her way to her first class. As Sitri said, it is mathematics, and unfortunately it seems she shares it with Hyoudou. She inhales, tasting the scent of his magic. It smells like fire and war.

It smells like a dragon.

...well, shit. Now she fully understands why Azazel wanted her to keep an eye on him, and why he hadn't wanted her to bring him in. Sure, Twice Critical is a dime a dozen, but putting him and Vali in the same room would not end well for anyone. Well, except possibly Vali, the battle-hungry maniac.

Raynare introduces herself to the class as, "Amano Yuuma-san, please take care of me," and sits down. In a seat at the back of the classroom, right next to a window.

Now she regrets ever humouring Kalawarner and watching some of those cartoons—she can hear the woman's voice in her head right now, telling her they were anime, not cartoons, you uncultured swine—she so favoured. Because here Raynare is, the relatively mysterious transfer student sitting in the back of the classroom, and gazing out the window because the class didn't interest her at all.

God damnit, she refuses to be a stereotype!

The class passes relatively slowly; it's trigonometry, and Raynare can do it in her sleep. Human magic revolves around geometry - you can't draw a good ritual circle or pentagram without understanding far more than just angles. Raynare has seduced a great many human magicians for the Grigori's cause, and she's found the simplest way to get their attention is to pretend to be interested.

She gets called to the board once, to show her understanding of a concept. She solves the problem using principles they haven't even learned yet, just to show off, and returns to her seat to dumbfounded silence. That is the way it should be. Amano Yuuma is a pathetic shadow of Raynare of the Grigori, but they should still regard her with awe. She is far more worthy than they will ever be.

"So smart and so hot!" she overhears—as do half the class, given how loud he is—one of Hyoudo's fellow perverts exclaim. "Does kaichou have competition?"

"Kaichou has no competition," snaps back the third, "and she never will!"

They descend into an argument over whether she, Raynare, is more attractive than Sitri. It's funny, in a sad sort of way. Yes, Sitri is beautiful, very much so - especially if you're into the strict, domineering type. But she couldn't seduce herself out of the Second Circle of Hell (and not only because the Leviathan wouldn't let her). That's what they don't get, these children. They'd drool over Sitri in a swimsuit, but there are women out there who could get the same reaction with little more than a smile.

The class ends, eventually, and so does every one that comes after. All of them are ludicrously simple; Raynare has lived the history they learn, watched as the languages they speak evolved over millennia, and had she any interest, she could qualify to teach the sciences at any university they'd care to name. Azazel is a scientist, and she has spent a significant proportion of her life trying to impress him.

One of the first things she did was make sure she could keep up with his tangents about how spiritual resonance was similar to quantum entanglement, and how he thanked the Lord for the correspondence. Raynare is nowhere near his level of brilliance, and she has never been any good at inventing, but she's acted as a sounding board almost more times than she can remember.

There is a reason she was Azazel's first choice for this assignment, even when she is nowhere near his mightiest tool; even when he had called her out on her erraticism just minutes after explaining what he wanted her to do. When Raynare sets her mind to something, she does it well. She will succeed, or die trying. Her determination—some people might call it simple bloody-minded stubbornness, but some people are idiots—is her single greatest strength. And her greatest flaw... if she had any.

But she doesn't. Obviously.

When she finally leaves the school, five people have already asked her out. Five people have also been brutally shut down so thoroughly they will probably not confess to another person for years. Yes, Raynare is trying to be good. To do good. But she is not nice. Especially not to some mewling mortal whose nation is younger than her hairstyle.

It would be exceedingly strange for the girl who calls herself Amano Yuuma to make her way to an abandoned church right after school (or at all, really). So she doesn't. Instead, she visits the mall, browsing with no intention of actually buying, and disappears into a restroom.

A couple of minutes later, Raynare emerges. She is taller, older, and even more beautiful than before. She could pass for Amano Yuuma's older cousin, if she had to, but the resemblance is not particularly obvious beyond the colour of their hair. Illusion has always been Raynare's greatest talent; she is above all things a creature of deception.

Her wings—as demeaning as it might be—are still veiled from sight, but now there is no mistaking that she is something beyond human norms. Gone is her school uniform and accompanying mien - she strides through the crowds like a panther, all arrogant strut and lithe danger. Know your place, her walk says. You are beneath me.

Eventually, she arrives at the church, and slips past the threshold with a tingle in her veins. God has no real influence here, not in an abandoned church in the middle of Devil territory, but even the memory of his presence has strength. And Raynare is still an angel - Fallen or not, she was forged from Light, and it can never abandon her completely.

When the doors close behind her, Raynare unfolds her wings with an almost-carnal sigh of satisfaction. It hurts to keep them concealed.

"How was your day at school, dear?" Mittelt calls out from her place lounging amongst the pews; her smile is as mocking as her voice. "Did you meet any cute boys?"

"I saw a few you might like," Raynare replies. "Though most were out of their diapers, so probably a bit old for you, eh?"

"Why you," her compatriot growls out, clenching her fists. Raynare honestly doesn't know why she tries. Mittelt has never been able to match words with her, and angers far too easily. They have an interesting relationship; they snip and snipe at one another almost constantly, but Raynare has saved Mittelt's life almost as many times as Mittelt has saved hers.

That doesn't mean they like one another, deep down. This isn't one of Kalawarner's shows, where they'll profess their undying friendship when their backs are against the wall and they're halfway to dying. Mittelt thinks Raynare is an obnoxious, stuck-up bitch. Raynare thinks Mittelt is, well, an obnoxious, stuck-up bitch. They are far too alike to ever get on, especially when Raynare has Azazel's favour and Mittelt does not.

But they do respect one another, and when you've lived as long as they have, that's enough.

"Where's Dohnaseek?" she asks, and Mittelt shrugs. Typical. The man is as shady as his fashion sense, and about as reliable as her laptop's battery life. But he's the best of them by far at blending into human society, and has so many underworld—not Underworld—connections he could write a phonebook and still have some left over.

Raynare descends the stairs - lo and behold, Kalawarner is watching something on the television she's plugged her laptop into. The woman is the only person here she's actually friends with, but Raynare knows better than to interrupt her at the moment. It'd only piss her off; Kalawarner holds grudges better than anyone she's ever met, and over the most trivial of things.

With nothing else to do, Raynare strips off and collapses onto her bed. She ate at the mall, and keeping up the pretense of being an ordinary, harmless schoolgirl was, if not mentally exhausting, then at least mentally boring. All she wants to do now is sleep.

Tomorrow she'll find out whether or not her gambit has succeeded.

So.

This is a thing.

Everyone loves Raynare, right? Or maybe that's just me.

Anyway, I suppose I'd best make a few things clear. The first is that, if it wasn't already obvious, this is an AU. I'd say it was an AU in multiple ways, but really everything diverges from a single fact. In this universe, being hundreds or thousands of years old means something. That includes Azazel noticing something is off with one of his servants and deciding to do something about it. And a bunch of other things that aren't obvious yet.

The second is that if anyone is concerned by some of Raynare's thoughts, no, I will not be bashing any of the cast. Bashing is dumb. Don't do it. What I will be doing is trying to write my characters as faithfully possible, and that means Raynare is arrogant and looks down on people. Even if she shouldn't. Especially when she shouldn't.

(Seriously, Raynare is so easy to write for. She's arrogant with an inferiority complex. I might as well be writing myself).

There's probably something else I'm missing, but if I get any reviews it'll probably crop up then. We'll see!