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"David can find something in any word you say. He can divine things from your sentence structuring, the words you choose for use. Exercise caution around David; he's clever." A light little grin appeared on her face as the thought struck her and she sat suddenly staring pointedly into the distance. Presently she raised a hand, held it before her until a single drop of rain was forced into her palm, and all at once the flurries of snow were drifting down lazily, contrived weather. The chill came down with them, the sharp freeze of the spirits acting on Antha's will. "It's pretty, don't you think?" she asked softly, leaning forward so that the snowflakes became entwined with her crimson hair, glittering like little jewels, "When it snows, people will either crowd a dozen public places or run out to frolic in the flurries, distracted, with not one eye upon them."

"It's a chain reaction." Vikteren's thoughts disturbed her only slightly. After all, what more could one expect from them. "Normal people execute one another on a daily basis. Beings who dare to walk in deserted streets often find themselves in confrontation. Why? Because they draw out the more undesirable creatures of the human race." Silently she grabbed Vikteren's hand, her mind somewhere off in the distance with the umbra, in an old, filthy apartment where a man watched the children playing. It was disgustingly cliche, but that was Antha's intent as she forced the image into his mind. "Sleet and Persephone are devils, plucking children and innocents from the streets to drain the life from their withering flesh. But if you're going to kill a living, breathing being, isn't it best to pick one just as wicked as them?"

"As part of the human race, more or less, we do the best we can. All one may do is use what they know and pass their judgement and pray it is for the best. Every creature that thinks does it every day of their life. But what can I say---I don't pretend to be good. I'm a wicked creature and I know it well. " Her eyes darknened clouded, and all at once, unnoticed to her own self, she gripped Vikteren's hand tightly, forcing her memories and even her very feelings back into the deepest recesses of her mind . It's all we can do... Dizzy, she felt she would fall from the window. Certainly it wasn't a pleasant idea, and so she gripped the walls and scrambled further back into the room, just a little too fast so that almost immediately she was tumbling backwards from the windowsill and down towards the stone floor.

She grabbed onto him the moment she felt his grip on her hand, dizzied, feeling the slight absence of blood strongly. Antha was naturally too weak a person to overexcite herself when something was amiss. Such being the case, not a moment after she had finally steadied herself she fell back to the cold stones of the floor, legs folded beneath her pitifully. "I never asked for it," she whispered softly, hazy eyes gazing steadily down to the floor and then to Vikteren. "I never wanted it either. But..." A little sigh emitted from her and her gaze went back to the floor. "I didn't want to drag them away. My cousins---my b*****d brothers and sisters by Julien---my family. And then they just broke. They fell apart like little dolls in my hands and there was something about it, like it was right, and I didn't know what to do." Of anything that could have run smoothly through her mind, Antha could think only of how glad she was that Aaron wasn't around to hear her. "That's what you wanted to hear, right? That I'm guilty?"

She was a bit shocked when she looked up at him again, her head clearing from the haze. "I didn't kill them," she said, surprisingly calm for the words she spoke, "It was my fault, I'm certain, that their deaths came about but it wasn't I who did the deed." Quietly she took his hand and returned to her feet. It was as she rose though, reluctant as she might have been to do it, that she forced into his head a rapid stream of images, too quick to catch the entirety of them. Slow enough to watch Lawrence with the broom in his hand, beating the gasping figure under the bed, to see the half-blood Nanette hung from the high ceiling by rope, yet too quick to see who who it was Antha had knocked to the floor or why Illium was sobbing and bloody on the floor. She couldn't possibly stress enough to him what it was he was getting himself into by lurking around her.
Antha made sure her balance was decent before she let go again. This time she even felt well enough to call Singe to her, invading his mind so violently that he would have no choice but to wake up. After all, Antha was dreadfully tired of waiting.

"Of course," she answered instantly, a broad smile directed at Vikteren. A smile from Antha that was not wicked or secretive or utterly fake, merely bright as this one was, was a considerably rare sight. "But Mikael doesn't like using the front doors." She paused, her eyes only for Singe suddenly, to put a hand on his head and work her fingers through his thick mass of dark red hair, teasing him. "So unless you want us to leave without you, I suggest you get up, ducky dear. Who else is going to take me?" There was a fake look of concern on her face, a pout almost, roughly masking a smile.