The light was blinding.

In absence of darkness, the light was blinding.

The last thing she knew, she was... fighting. She was wounded, slowly getting more and more exhausted. Then again, so too was he. What she had done had been good enough to at least stall the Castle from moving as it had often done, and further refinement of the technique would be able to lock down the Castle's engines altogether. But as much as she had claimed the desire to 'test' her theory, she could not deny the opportunity granted to assail the Count himself.

Fire scorched and blackened the stone around the great hall. Body parts, some smoldering and some not, were strewn haphazardly--Dracula's soldiers. The whip had done much, but as strong as she was, she was still human--still beholden to their limits, even if hers were the peak. Dracula did not adhere to such weaknesses, though he had his own.

Crimson filled scelera held a baleful look as he flung flame from his fingertips, forcing the woman to evade and take cover behind a broken pillar before she returned the favor--holy-imbued flame. The battle had devolved into the two circling one another carefully--both hesitant to close in on the other for different reasons. But it was inevitable they would.

That was the last thing she recalled--they seemed to lunge at each other at nearly the same time, Sonia with her whip, Dracula with his claws. But just as they were to begin the final clash, she was here. This place that others called the 'World Tree'. That the thing that she came through was something they called a 'Vine' but it was also something akin to a gateway, a portal. She acknowledged, and even memorized every little detail, but she was still in a state of disbelief, as much as distrust. The kindness given to a stranger like her was not something she was expecting, nor did she trust. So she gleaned as much as she could, learned as much as she could without volunteering anything more than the basics.

Then in the dead of night, she was gone.

She was gone until she chanced upon that place with the strange robots, and the equally strange people. The white-haired one... she looked so much like she was alive, but given what the others said, she could consider them not unlike a golemn. A homunculus. A created being. Her and 9S... they would have to be carefully considered. As would Emily--that one she saw not once, but twice, though that hesistation at an 'unfair' fight in Stillrun was incredibly naive.

Josuke, that young man... what gave him that ability to control that almost astral-like projection? He wasn't the only one--Holly, that girl.

She scribbled in her notebook at the table she sat at even now. The barkeep, a woman herself, had been kind enough to give her a private booth. She sketched little details. Faces, such as Dante's, weapons that he and others wore. Dorian. That strange wolfman with a not dissimilar disposition to her own.

"Hey lil' lady, you look like you could use some company."

She didn't look up, though the barkeep yelled over the din, "You really should give her some privacy, she's over there for a reason."

"Ah, 'm not talkin' to you, I think this pretty thing can speak for herself."

It's then that the woman stopped writing with her pen--a marvelous invention, she concurred--and met the eyes of the barkeep. One part, apology. The other part, regret.

"I'm here alone, and I intend to be alone. Please respect that." came Sonia's words. "Now why on earth would someone so... /pretty/ be wantin' to do that? You're not some kinna freak, are ya?" The stink of ale became all the more obvious at that point, and he glanced down at her book. "Because I have more important things to be doing. Leave me alone." This came with a coldness, a rattle of a viper threatening to strike.

"Ah, fuck that," he spat, pulling himself right into a chair next to her, "You and I're gonna get to know each other, and the last thing you need to be doin' is fuckin' around with a book, bitch--" As he reached for it, his fingers never quite made it. Because his hand stopped. At least, to Sonia it stopped, before she collected both book and pen, stowing both beneath her cloak and swiftly rose, heading for the exit. The clarity of the alcoholic, however, mistook her sudden disappearence for something that needed to be chased, immediately prompting him to look about for her, but finding nothing, headed to the barkeep "'ey... where was that lady that was over there?"

A thin, easy smile from the redhead manning the bar. "What lady? You had a few too many in you Paul..." Oh he would argue this point. But Sonia would not be there to see it. It was easily a situation that could have turned ugly, and she would've been forced to injure him. A fool he was, a drunkard most assuredly, but until otherwise.... he remained innocent.

... on the other hand, if his drunken overtures became something worse... well, that's why she lingered near the tavern. Just in case. The innocent may make mistakes, but there was a line that, when crossed, would annul such innocence. Something she hoped would not happen.

A skyward glance at the moon. People should act better than the monsters she hunted.