Kor played:

Crimson and Demona

"Look, enough of this. We need to talk."

She'd really, really grown tired of the endless slog. Denied her usual simulation-changing tactics, forced to walk like a mortal, she'd been moving from sim to sim aimlessly, denying each one before exiting and reconnecting, forcing the randomizer to put her someplace new and different. No less than thirteen sims - and each one trying to kill her. The quicksand was too predictable - though the jets of flame were surprisingly efficient at catching her by surprise. She'd tailored him to prefer to manifest an avatar that was humanoid and thus interactable - why wasn't he here yet?

Was he hiding from her?

"Right, you piece of shit a-life, come out and let me have a look at you or I'll shut this whole place down!" Keeping her temper had never been one of Jen's particular strong points, and treating EIs with respect was about as easy for her as pulling teeth given that she didn't even treat her human acquaintences with respect. No, she'd do this her way - with threats and bullying.

So of course she found herself whisked away, yanked unceremoneously from the swamp and deposited roughly on a cold marble floor. She was on her side, reeling from the rapidity of the swimswitch, staring at a pair of feet that looked like they were cast from the same marble as the floor save for the human color and texture to them. Impulsively, she spit upon them, trying to maintain a sense of ownership over the server.

That was a very, very bad mistake.

She was yanked upwards roughly by the hair and thrust away from the avatar with haste - he didn't seem to care where he put her, just away from him, away from his precious form with her nasty, vile spit and the germs and the chaos of it all, the filth inhereit in human beings. She could FEEL his contempt surrounding her like carbon monoxide - making her a bit giddy and lightheaded, or was that the force with which she hit the wall? A sensor warned her that such action was a bit too rough, likely to cause her heart rate to spike and thus alert her parents, but she didn't seem to care, not with her head reeling the way it was. The temperature around her plummeted, leaving her feeling naked and vulnerable, her teeth chattering. She clenched them, refusing to give him the pleasure of seeing her discomfort even as her avatar broke out all over in goosepimples.

Jen struggled to get to her feet, so she could berate the a-life; she didn't see what hit her, struggling to find his form among al the cold white marble in this... temple or whatever it was. She only felt the jolt of it, pain spiking down her from the crown of her head to the tips of her toes; distantly, she was aware that she'd fallen to her side, curled into a ball. No, that wouldn't do at all. As the pain faded, she climbed to her knees, feeling herself go cold inside, her world narrowing to one small yet overriding goal: Get. Up.

The trick didn't repeat itself; instead, something she only later connected with the form of a foot connected with her ribcage, sending her back down to her side. "My, my. This *will* be interesting." His voice curled aroud her like a cat demanding attention, purring with a voice made of cold iron and thunder. Demona spit on the floor to spite him before speaking, herself:

"I'll always get back up."

"We'll see about that."