Rowan had always been one to throw herself entirely into her passions, and never one to give in easily to distractions, but it seemed that magic was one thing that could draw her attention away from her goals. It wasn’t the most surprising thing, admittedly, but it came at an extremely inopportune time. She gave her unfinished homework another glance and sighed, pushing herself back from the desk. So she’d met two of these “senshi,” as they called themselves. At least two that she knew of. She wasn’t clear on how many there were, and from what Halia had said, there were other magical types as well.
And that wasn’t even accounting for the youma. Or the things she’d encountered that were weird, possibly dangerous, and apparently, somehow, not related to any of that. She had no idea how the people who had a better idea of how this all worked managed it. She did not envy their jobs, even if she wouldn’t complain about having an advantage or two over the youma.
With a huff she dropped back into her desk chair and opened a new document. If she couldn’t focus on her actual work, she could at least try to write out the few things she knew about… whatever someone would call this. All of this. She knew that she wouldn’t be able to make sense of it, but figuring out what she knew would bring her a few steps closer. Hopefully.

She knew that those superhero types existed. The senshi, as Halia had called them. The “Order” senshi, and the “corrupted” ones. Touched by “Chaos,” big C Chaos and apparently distinct from the “little c” chaos of everyday life. She contemplated exactly what that meant. She knew the youma were part of that, somehow. Considering that, and the fact that the humans(?) had superpowers, it might be better that she didn’t know. But unfortunately, not knowing didn’t satisfy her curiosity. Besides, if it was a threat it was better for her to understand it then not, right? Not that she had enough information to go on. Yet. It was obvious that there was far more to this than she could ever grasp with what she had, and painfully, glaringly obvious that she wasn’t equipped to deal with these things as she was. She highlighted the word “youma,” right clicked, and made a note to try hitting one with her car at some point. If nothing else it might be interesting, that is, until it tried to eat her. Besides, it was educational. Figuring out what did and didn’t work. It might not have scientific precision, but it was close enough for her purposes.

Rowan let out a loud, frustrated groan, tossing up her hands dramatically before letting them fall onto the desktop and closing the document. There was little point in continuing this. Not now, maybe not ever. She hated the feeling of uselessness that welled up in her throat and slid downward into her chest and stomach. She reopened the document. “Maybe try a stun gun.”