Monday Morning (A few hours earlier)

Fyn attended the only private school in town, one that her parents persisted on and despite herself she was able to receive a scholarship to "Morris-Dale Private School". Her parents have never been happier and the occasion was enough for her to receive a first hug from her mother, Rainbow. 

"I knew you could do it, kid!" her father, Isaac rejoiced.

Fyn's first few weeks at Morris-Dale were spent like any other fifteen-year old, "attend classes, lunch and end the day with PE class or sport practice." One particular Monday morning Fyn woke up in a cold sweat. Her body jerked to the sound of a beeping alarm which read 06:00am. She tried not to think too much of it and carried on as per usual. Morris-Dale was within walking distance, Fyn rounded the corner to the entrance and only to be met with a bare chest. 

She stood awkwardly facing a bulk of flesh that towered over her, one that had faint trail-like hairs against it and moved in short rhythmic breathes. The torso suddenly scrunched and folded in, Fyn realized the person was now directly looking at her. 

"If you're merely going to stare, at the very least take a proper look at the good bits." He remarked in a husky voice and motioned with a hand to his chest.

"Unless... you were thinking about something else, somewhere else." he continued with a coy smile.

 Fyn's eyes widened in disbelief and before the conversation could go any further she hastily walks away. 

"Hey..." he exclaimed heartily, with pursued lips and furrowed brows Fyn muttered fiercely, "People ordinarily have those type of conversations with their friends... I am not your friend," she ended sternly.

She proceeds to walk in an almost sprint and leaving him behind with a facial expression Fyn would have been weary of; or even feared, his face contorted in pleasure

Present time

The footsteps halt instantly and so did Fyn. Her apparent attempt to slow down her now heavy panting only made her panic more. Her nervous system is promptly sent to survival mode, Fyn registers her surrounds through swollen eyes. She merely lays crouched against a toilet bowl and bruised knees up to her chest, crouched against a toilet bowl and bruised knees up to her chest, cautiously using one hand to push against the wall to open the door. 

"Locked" she begins to fiddle with the handle.

Soft flower-petals trickle against Fyn's forehead, startled she looks up and only to find the cause of all this, the reason she was in this mess; the howling demon, Salis.